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Prohibition Bakery

Prohibition Bakery

Tucked away on a quiet street on the Lower East Side, Prohibition Bakery is known for its selection of boozy cupcakes. Yes, they are bite sized, just like those from Baked by Melissa, but even better, they are infused with alcohol!

Starting with the first boozy cupcake it created: White Russian – vodka, Kahlua and espresso – Prohibition Bakery has been coming up with a variety of innovative combinations. Though the menu varies daily, each of the well thought out cupcakes offers a surprising combination of flavors. Currently, the most popular cupcake is the Pretzels and Beer, a sinful and indulgent combination of Bass Ale beer, pretzels, Nutella and white truffle.

Photo by Andre Li

Customers here are guaranteed a fresh and homemade treat, as all of the cupcakes are made in-house by the two owners. Alcohol is piped into each cupcake after baking, giving each one a pleasant sponge-like texture.

Since there is alcohol in the cupcakes, customers must be at least 21 years old to purchase them. Don’t worry if you are not 21 yet, as Prohibition Bakery also sells “virgin” cupcakes that are just as tasty and original as the boozy ones.

Photo by Andre LI

With the holiday season approaching, more seasonal cupcakes are being added to the menu. Though flavors vary daily, the owners have recently offered Mulled Wine – Cabernet Sauvignon, pear brandy and mulling spices, Saucy Pumpkin – Oktoberfest, Divine chocolate, sage and pumpkin – and Shiny Apple – moonshine, apple cider, cheddar. A great addition to the dinner table, these boozy cupcakes also make a perfect gift or party favor.

Photo by Andre Li

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Address: 9 Clinton St (bet Houston and Stanton)
Hours of operation: Tue-Thu: 11am to 8pm, Fri-Sat: 11am to 9pm, Sun: 11am to 8pm

The post Prohibition Bakery appeared first on Spoon University.


Prohibition Bakery – The Proof is in the Frosting

Prohibition Bakery’s White Russian (L), Sangria (R) and Salted Margarita (background) cupcakes

Leslie Feinberg is explaining to me how alcohol affects the baking chemistry of a cupcake when her attention is yanked across the room, where two thickset men in A-shirts and cotton gloves are struggling to lift a just-delivered Moffat oven. Leslie, an ex-bartender and lifelong baking fanatic who “didn’t even know cake mix existed until high school”, cringes as the worker who almost lost his grip on the 400+ pound cube steadies himself, biceps quivering.

Brooke Siem, a former ballerina and a classically-trained chef whose resume includes a stint in the mad scientist kitchen of wd

50 plus a winemaking internship at Long Island’s Bedell Cellars, watches the spectacle wearily with a young entrepreneur’s tenacious, sleep-starved eyes.

“This is our second oven,” Leslie tells me. “The first one didn’t fit through the door.”

And so a bakery is born. Leslie and Brooke, friends since meeting on a January 2011 Birthright Israel trip, started Prohibition Bakery last August. Without a permanent retail location, the pair’s bite-sized, booze-infused cupcakes have so far been limited to NYC’s catering circuit and open-air markets.

This changes shortly, when the door of 9 Clinton Street opens to pedestrian traffic. By staking their confectionery claim on the same block as Cocoa Bar and Clinton Street Baking Co., Leslie and Brooke are–intentionally or not–betting that Prohibition Bakery’s adult treats will stand out in the city’s decadently crowded dessert scene.

After tasting the wares, good luck not believing in them.

Brooke Siem (L) and Leslie Feinberg (R) strategize their business plan. Photo courtesy of Prohibition Bakery via Dessert Professionals Magazine.

I begin a cupcake “flight” with Prohibition Bakery’s Sangria, a faithful nod to the fruits typically in the summer drink: Orange cake, pear brandy frosting, and an apple chip garnish. Its major success is the oozing Cabernet Sauvignon core that somehow preserves the wine’s complex flavor profile.

Next comes Salted Margarita. After bartending at West Village stalwart Tortilla Flats, Leslie “conservatively” estimates she has made over 8,000 margaritas. The cupcake and its bulls-eye balance of salty, tangy, sweet, and a warm finish from doses of tequila and triple sec, testifies to her battle-tested expertise.

The best part of the White Russian is the dark, brooding, bitter espresso cake. As I swallow it, Brooke reads my mind and notes that her culinary training was primarily in savory, so full-throttle sugar assaults are rarely–if ever–her style. Here, the rich and gently sweet Kahlua frosting is a pitch-perfect counterpoint to the cake.

Build a Charcuterie Board Like A Pro

Pretzels and Beer wins the “concept” prize, with a waffle pretzel nesting on a cloud of Nutella frosting, which covers a Bass Ale-infused pretzel cake. The beer’s malt is accentuated by the baking, and the mild hops echo on the palate long after the cupcake is gone. Even more impressive is that this is a “virgin” offering, with the ale’s easily-evaporating alcohol left behind in the oven.

We conclude with an Irish Car Bomb, which may deter Prohibition Bakery’s potential Fenian clientele, but is an amazing cupcake no matter what you call it. Packing the bar-brawl triumvirate of Guinness, Bailey’s and Irish whiskey, it is lush and deep and exactly what you want at the end of a long night on the Lower East Side.

Prohibition Bakery’s Irish Car Bomb (L) and Pretzels and Beer (R) cupcakes

How much hooch is actually in these innovative cupcakes? There are no official recipes yet, but I left Prohibition Bakery and spilled onto Clinton with a familiar feeling:

I could drive right now, but I’m glad I don’t have to.


Prohibition Bakery – The Proof is in the Frosting

Prohibition Bakery’s White Russian (L), Sangria (R) and Salted Margarita (background) cupcakes

Leslie Feinberg is explaining to me how alcohol affects the baking chemistry of a cupcake when her attention is yanked across the room, where two thickset men in A-shirts and cotton gloves are struggling to lift a just-delivered Moffat oven. Leslie, an ex-bartender and lifelong baking fanatic who “didn’t even know cake mix existed until high school”, cringes as the worker who almost lost his grip on the 400+ pound cube steadies himself, biceps quivering.

Brooke Siem, a former ballerina and a classically-trained chef whose resume includes a stint in the mad scientist kitchen of wd

50 plus a winemaking internship at Long Island’s Bedell Cellars, watches the spectacle wearily with a young entrepreneur’s tenacious, sleep-starved eyes.

“This is our second oven,” Leslie tells me. “The first one didn’t fit through the door.”

And so a bakery is born. Leslie and Brooke, friends since meeting on a January 2011 Birthright Israel trip, started Prohibition Bakery last August. Without a permanent retail location, the pair’s bite-sized, booze-infused cupcakes have so far been limited to NYC’s catering circuit and open-air markets.

This changes shortly, when the door of 9 Clinton Street opens to pedestrian traffic. By staking their confectionery claim on the same block as Cocoa Bar and Clinton Street Baking Co., Leslie and Brooke are–intentionally or not–betting that Prohibition Bakery’s adult treats will stand out in the city’s decadently crowded dessert scene.

After tasting the wares, good luck not believing in them.

Brooke Siem (L) and Leslie Feinberg (R) strategize their business plan. Photo courtesy of Prohibition Bakery via Dessert Professionals Magazine.

I begin a cupcake “flight” with Prohibition Bakery’s Sangria, a faithful nod to the fruits typically in the summer drink: Orange cake, pear brandy frosting, and an apple chip garnish. Its major success is the oozing Cabernet Sauvignon core that somehow preserves the wine’s complex flavor profile.

Next comes Salted Margarita. After bartending at West Village stalwart Tortilla Flats, Leslie “conservatively” estimates she has made over 8,000 margaritas. The cupcake and its bulls-eye balance of salty, tangy, sweet, and a warm finish from doses of tequila and triple sec, testifies to her battle-tested expertise.

The best part of the White Russian is the dark, brooding, bitter espresso cake. As I swallow it, Brooke reads my mind and notes that her culinary training was primarily in savory, so full-throttle sugar assaults are rarely–if ever–her style. Here, the rich and gently sweet Kahlua frosting is a pitch-perfect counterpoint to the cake.

Build a Charcuterie Board Like A Pro

Pretzels and Beer wins the “concept” prize, with a waffle pretzel nesting on a cloud of Nutella frosting, which covers a Bass Ale-infused pretzel cake. The beer’s malt is accentuated by the baking, and the mild hops echo on the palate long after the cupcake is gone. Even more impressive is that this is a “virgin” offering, with the ale’s easily-evaporating alcohol left behind in the oven.

We conclude with an Irish Car Bomb, which may deter Prohibition Bakery’s potential Fenian clientele, but is an amazing cupcake no matter what you call it. Packing the bar-brawl triumvirate of Guinness, Bailey’s and Irish whiskey, it is lush and deep and exactly what you want at the end of a long night on the Lower East Side.

Prohibition Bakery’s Irish Car Bomb (L) and Pretzels and Beer (R) cupcakes

How much hooch is actually in these innovative cupcakes? There are no official recipes yet, but I left Prohibition Bakery and spilled onto Clinton with a familiar feeling:

I could drive right now, but I’m glad I don’t have to.


Prohibition Bakery – The Proof is in the Frosting

Prohibition Bakery’s White Russian (L), Sangria (R) and Salted Margarita (background) cupcakes

Leslie Feinberg is explaining to me how alcohol affects the baking chemistry of a cupcake when her attention is yanked across the room, where two thickset men in A-shirts and cotton gloves are struggling to lift a just-delivered Moffat oven. Leslie, an ex-bartender and lifelong baking fanatic who “didn’t even know cake mix existed until high school”, cringes as the worker who almost lost his grip on the 400+ pound cube steadies himself, biceps quivering.

Brooke Siem, a former ballerina and a classically-trained chef whose resume includes a stint in the mad scientist kitchen of wd

50 plus a winemaking internship at Long Island’s Bedell Cellars, watches the spectacle wearily with a young entrepreneur’s tenacious, sleep-starved eyes.

“This is our second oven,” Leslie tells me. “The first one didn’t fit through the door.”

And so a bakery is born. Leslie and Brooke, friends since meeting on a January 2011 Birthright Israel trip, started Prohibition Bakery last August. Without a permanent retail location, the pair’s bite-sized, booze-infused cupcakes have so far been limited to NYC’s catering circuit and open-air markets.

This changes shortly, when the door of 9 Clinton Street opens to pedestrian traffic. By staking their confectionery claim on the same block as Cocoa Bar and Clinton Street Baking Co., Leslie and Brooke are–intentionally or not–betting that Prohibition Bakery’s adult treats will stand out in the city’s decadently crowded dessert scene.

After tasting the wares, good luck not believing in them.

Brooke Siem (L) and Leslie Feinberg (R) strategize their business plan. Photo courtesy of Prohibition Bakery via Dessert Professionals Magazine.

I begin a cupcake “flight” with Prohibition Bakery’s Sangria, a faithful nod to the fruits typically in the summer drink: Orange cake, pear brandy frosting, and an apple chip garnish. Its major success is the oozing Cabernet Sauvignon core that somehow preserves the wine’s complex flavor profile.

Next comes Salted Margarita. After bartending at West Village stalwart Tortilla Flats, Leslie “conservatively” estimates she has made over 8,000 margaritas. The cupcake and its bulls-eye balance of salty, tangy, sweet, and a warm finish from doses of tequila and triple sec, testifies to her battle-tested expertise.

The best part of the White Russian is the dark, brooding, bitter espresso cake. As I swallow it, Brooke reads my mind and notes that her culinary training was primarily in savory, so full-throttle sugar assaults are rarely–if ever–her style. Here, the rich and gently sweet Kahlua frosting is a pitch-perfect counterpoint to the cake.

Build a Charcuterie Board Like A Pro

Pretzels and Beer wins the “concept” prize, with a waffle pretzel nesting on a cloud of Nutella frosting, which covers a Bass Ale-infused pretzel cake. The beer’s malt is accentuated by the baking, and the mild hops echo on the palate long after the cupcake is gone. Even more impressive is that this is a “virgin” offering, with the ale’s easily-evaporating alcohol left behind in the oven.

We conclude with an Irish Car Bomb, which may deter Prohibition Bakery’s potential Fenian clientele, but is an amazing cupcake no matter what you call it. Packing the bar-brawl triumvirate of Guinness, Bailey’s and Irish whiskey, it is lush and deep and exactly what you want at the end of a long night on the Lower East Side.

Prohibition Bakery’s Irish Car Bomb (L) and Pretzels and Beer (R) cupcakes

How much hooch is actually in these innovative cupcakes? There are no official recipes yet, but I left Prohibition Bakery and spilled onto Clinton with a familiar feeling:

I could drive right now, but I’m glad I don’t have to.


Prohibition Bakery – The Proof is in the Frosting

Prohibition Bakery’s White Russian (L), Sangria (R) and Salted Margarita (background) cupcakes

Leslie Feinberg is explaining to me how alcohol affects the baking chemistry of a cupcake when her attention is yanked across the room, where two thickset men in A-shirts and cotton gloves are struggling to lift a just-delivered Moffat oven. Leslie, an ex-bartender and lifelong baking fanatic who “didn’t even know cake mix existed until high school”, cringes as the worker who almost lost his grip on the 400+ pound cube steadies himself, biceps quivering.

Brooke Siem, a former ballerina and a classically-trained chef whose resume includes a stint in the mad scientist kitchen of wd

50 plus a winemaking internship at Long Island’s Bedell Cellars, watches the spectacle wearily with a young entrepreneur’s tenacious, sleep-starved eyes.

“This is our second oven,” Leslie tells me. “The first one didn’t fit through the door.”

And so a bakery is born. Leslie and Brooke, friends since meeting on a January 2011 Birthright Israel trip, started Prohibition Bakery last August. Without a permanent retail location, the pair’s bite-sized, booze-infused cupcakes have so far been limited to NYC’s catering circuit and open-air markets.

This changes shortly, when the door of 9 Clinton Street opens to pedestrian traffic. By staking their confectionery claim on the same block as Cocoa Bar and Clinton Street Baking Co., Leslie and Brooke are–intentionally or not–betting that Prohibition Bakery’s adult treats will stand out in the city’s decadently crowded dessert scene.

After tasting the wares, good luck not believing in them.

Brooke Siem (L) and Leslie Feinberg (R) strategize their business plan. Photo courtesy of Prohibition Bakery via Dessert Professionals Magazine.

I begin a cupcake “flight” with Prohibition Bakery’s Sangria, a faithful nod to the fruits typically in the summer drink: Orange cake, pear brandy frosting, and an apple chip garnish. Its major success is the oozing Cabernet Sauvignon core that somehow preserves the wine’s complex flavor profile.

Next comes Salted Margarita. After bartending at West Village stalwart Tortilla Flats, Leslie “conservatively” estimates she has made over 8,000 margaritas. The cupcake and its bulls-eye balance of salty, tangy, sweet, and a warm finish from doses of tequila and triple sec, testifies to her battle-tested expertise.

The best part of the White Russian is the dark, brooding, bitter espresso cake. As I swallow it, Brooke reads my mind and notes that her culinary training was primarily in savory, so full-throttle sugar assaults are rarely–if ever–her style. Here, the rich and gently sweet Kahlua frosting is a pitch-perfect counterpoint to the cake.

Build a Charcuterie Board Like A Pro

Pretzels and Beer wins the “concept” prize, with a waffle pretzel nesting on a cloud of Nutella frosting, which covers a Bass Ale-infused pretzel cake. The beer’s malt is accentuated by the baking, and the mild hops echo on the palate long after the cupcake is gone. Even more impressive is that this is a “virgin” offering, with the ale’s easily-evaporating alcohol left behind in the oven.

We conclude with an Irish Car Bomb, which may deter Prohibition Bakery’s potential Fenian clientele, but is an amazing cupcake no matter what you call it. Packing the bar-brawl triumvirate of Guinness, Bailey’s and Irish whiskey, it is lush and deep and exactly what you want at the end of a long night on the Lower East Side.

Prohibition Bakery’s Irish Car Bomb (L) and Pretzels and Beer (R) cupcakes

How much hooch is actually in these innovative cupcakes? There are no official recipes yet, but I left Prohibition Bakery and spilled onto Clinton with a familiar feeling:

I could drive right now, but I’m glad I don’t have to.


Prohibition Bakery – The Proof is in the Frosting

Prohibition Bakery’s White Russian (L), Sangria (R) and Salted Margarita (background) cupcakes

Leslie Feinberg is explaining to me how alcohol affects the baking chemistry of a cupcake when her attention is yanked across the room, where two thickset men in A-shirts and cotton gloves are struggling to lift a just-delivered Moffat oven. Leslie, an ex-bartender and lifelong baking fanatic who “didn’t even know cake mix existed until high school”, cringes as the worker who almost lost his grip on the 400+ pound cube steadies himself, biceps quivering.

Brooke Siem, a former ballerina and a classically-trained chef whose resume includes a stint in the mad scientist kitchen of wd

50 plus a winemaking internship at Long Island’s Bedell Cellars, watches the spectacle wearily with a young entrepreneur’s tenacious, sleep-starved eyes.

“This is our second oven,” Leslie tells me. “The first one didn’t fit through the door.”

And so a bakery is born. Leslie and Brooke, friends since meeting on a January 2011 Birthright Israel trip, started Prohibition Bakery last August. Without a permanent retail location, the pair’s bite-sized, booze-infused cupcakes have so far been limited to NYC’s catering circuit and open-air markets.

This changes shortly, when the door of 9 Clinton Street opens to pedestrian traffic. By staking their confectionery claim on the same block as Cocoa Bar and Clinton Street Baking Co., Leslie and Brooke are–intentionally or not–betting that Prohibition Bakery’s adult treats will stand out in the city’s decadently crowded dessert scene.

After tasting the wares, good luck not believing in them.

Brooke Siem (L) and Leslie Feinberg (R) strategize their business plan. Photo courtesy of Prohibition Bakery via Dessert Professionals Magazine.

I begin a cupcake “flight” with Prohibition Bakery’s Sangria, a faithful nod to the fruits typically in the summer drink: Orange cake, pear brandy frosting, and an apple chip garnish. Its major success is the oozing Cabernet Sauvignon core that somehow preserves the wine’s complex flavor profile.

Next comes Salted Margarita. After bartending at West Village stalwart Tortilla Flats, Leslie “conservatively” estimates she has made over 8,000 margaritas. The cupcake and its bulls-eye balance of salty, tangy, sweet, and a warm finish from doses of tequila and triple sec, testifies to her battle-tested expertise.

The best part of the White Russian is the dark, brooding, bitter espresso cake. As I swallow it, Brooke reads my mind and notes that her culinary training was primarily in savory, so full-throttle sugar assaults are rarely–if ever–her style. Here, the rich and gently sweet Kahlua frosting is a pitch-perfect counterpoint to the cake.

Build a Charcuterie Board Like A Pro

Pretzels and Beer wins the “concept” prize, with a waffle pretzel nesting on a cloud of Nutella frosting, which covers a Bass Ale-infused pretzel cake. The beer’s malt is accentuated by the baking, and the mild hops echo on the palate long after the cupcake is gone. Even more impressive is that this is a “virgin” offering, with the ale’s easily-evaporating alcohol left behind in the oven.

We conclude with an Irish Car Bomb, which may deter Prohibition Bakery’s potential Fenian clientele, but is an amazing cupcake no matter what you call it. Packing the bar-brawl triumvirate of Guinness, Bailey’s and Irish whiskey, it is lush and deep and exactly what you want at the end of a long night on the Lower East Side.

Prohibition Bakery’s Irish Car Bomb (L) and Pretzels and Beer (R) cupcakes

How much hooch is actually in these innovative cupcakes? There are no official recipes yet, but I left Prohibition Bakery and spilled onto Clinton with a familiar feeling:

I could drive right now, but I’m glad I don’t have to.


Prohibition Bakery – The Proof is in the Frosting

Prohibition Bakery’s White Russian (L), Sangria (R) and Salted Margarita (background) cupcakes

Leslie Feinberg is explaining to me how alcohol affects the baking chemistry of a cupcake when her attention is yanked across the room, where two thickset men in A-shirts and cotton gloves are struggling to lift a just-delivered Moffat oven. Leslie, an ex-bartender and lifelong baking fanatic who “didn’t even know cake mix existed until high school”, cringes as the worker who almost lost his grip on the 400+ pound cube steadies himself, biceps quivering.

Brooke Siem, a former ballerina and a classically-trained chef whose resume includes a stint in the mad scientist kitchen of wd

50 plus a winemaking internship at Long Island’s Bedell Cellars, watches the spectacle wearily with a young entrepreneur’s tenacious, sleep-starved eyes.

“This is our second oven,” Leslie tells me. “The first one didn’t fit through the door.”

And so a bakery is born. Leslie and Brooke, friends since meeting on a January 2011 Birthright Israel trip, started Prohibition Bakery last August. Without a permanent retail location, the pair’s bite-sized, booze-infused cupcakes have so far been limited to NYC’s catering circuit and open-air markets.

This changes shortly, when the door of 9 Clinton Street opens to pedestrian traffic. By staking their confectionery claim on the same block as Cocoa Bar and Clinton Street Baking Co., Leslie and Brooke are–intentionally or not–betting that Prohibition Bakery’s adult treats will stand out in the city’s decadently crowded dessert scene.

After tasting the wares, good luck not believing in them.

Brooke Siem (L) and Leslie Feinberg (R) strategize their business plan. Photo courtesy of Prohibition Bakery via Dessert Professionals Magazine.

I begin a cupcake “flight” with Prohibition Bakery’s Sangria, a faithful nod to the fruits typically in the summer drink: Orange cake, pear brandy frosting, and an apple chip garnish. Its major success is the oozing Cabernet Sauvignon core that somehow preserves the wine’s complex flavor profile.

Next comes Salted Margarita. After bartending at West Village stalwart Tortilla Flats, Leslie “conservatively” estimates she has made over 8,000 margaritas. The cupcake and its bulls-eye balance of salty, tangy, sweet, and a warm finish from doses of tequila and triple sec, testifies to her battle-tested expertise.

The best part of the White Russian is the dark, brooding, bitter espresso cake. As I swallow it, Brooke reads my mind and notes that her culinary training was primarily in savory, so full-throttle sugar assaults are rarely–if ever–her style. Here, the rich and gently sweet Kahlua frosting is a pitch-perfect counterpoint to the cake.

Build a Charcuterie Board Like A Pro

Pretzels and Beer wins the “concept” prize, with a waffle pretzel nesting on a cloud of Nutella frosting, which covers a Bass Ale-infused pretzel cake. The beer’s malt is accentuated by the baking, and the mild hops echo on the palate long after the cupcake is gone. Even more impressive is that this is a “virgin” offering, with the ale’s easily-evaporating alcohol left behind in the oven.

We conclude with an Irish Car Bomb, which may deter Prohibition Bakery’s potential Fenian clientele, but is an amazing cupcake no matter what you call it. Packing the bar-brawl triumvirate of Guinness, Bailey’s and Irish whiskey, it is lush and deep and exactly what you want at the end of a long night on the Lower East Side.

Prohibition Bakery’s Irish Car Bomb (L) and Pretzels and Beer (R) cupcakes

How much hooch is actually in these innovative cupcakes? There are no official recipes yet, but I left Prohibition Bakery and spilled onto Clinton with a familiar feeling:

I could drive right now, but I’m glad I don’t have to.


Prohibition Bakery – The Proof is in the Frosting

Prohibition Bakery’s White Russian (L), Sangria (R) and Salted Margarita (background) cupcakes

Leslie Feinberg is explaining to me how alcohol affects the baking chemistry of a cupcake when her attention is yanked across the room, where two thickset men in A-shirts and cotton gloves are struggling to lift a just-delivered Moffat oven. Leslie, an ex-bartender and lifelong baking fanatic who “didn’t even know cake mix existed until high school”, cringes as the worker who almost lost his grip on the 400+ pound cube steadies himself, biceps quivering.

Brooke Siem, a former ballerina and a classically-trained chef whose resume includes a stint in the mad scientist kitchen of wd

50 plus a winemaking internship at Long Island’s Bedell Cellars, watches the spectacle wearily with a young entrepreneur’s tenacious, sleep-starved eyes.

“This is our second oven,” Leslie tells me. “The first one didn’t fit through the door.”

And so a bakery is born. Leslie and Brooke, friends since meeting on a January 2011 Birthright Israel trip, started Prohibition Bakery last August. Without a permanent retail location, the pair’s bite-sized, booze-infused cupcakes have so far been limited to NYC’s catering circuit and open-air markets.

This changes shortly, when the door of 9 Clinton Street opens to pedestrian traffic. By staking their confectionery claim on the same block as Cocoa Bar and Clinton Street Baking Co., Leslie and Brooke are–intentionally or not–betting that Prohibition Bakery’s adult treats will stand out in the city’s decadently crowded dessert scene.

After tasting the wares, good luck not believing in them.

Brooke Siem (L) and Leslie Feinberg (R) strategize their business plan. Photo courtesy of Prohibition Bakery via Dessert Professionals Magazine.

I begin a cupcake “flight” with Prohibition Bakery’s Sangria, a faithful nod to the fruits typically in the summer drink: Orange cake, pear brandy frosting, and an apple chip garnish. Its major success is the oozing Cabernet Sauvignon core that somehow preserves the wine’s complex flavor profile.

Next comes Salted Margarita. After bartending at West Village stalwart Tortilla Flats, Leslie “conservatively” estimates she has made over 8,000 margaritas. The cupcake and its bulls-eye balance of salty, tangy, sweet, and a warm finish from doses of tequila and triple sec, testifies to her battle-tested expertise.

The best part of the White Russian is the dark, brooding, bitter espresso cake. As I swallow it, Brooke reads my mind and notes that her culinary training was primarily in savory, so full-throttle sugar assaults are rarely–if ever–her style. Here, the rich and gently sweet Kahlua frosting is a pitch-perfect counterpoint to the cake.

Build a Charcuterie Board Like A Pro

Pretzels and Beer wins the “concept” prize, with a waffle pretzel nesting on a cloud of Nutella frosting, which covers a Bass Ale-infused pretzel cake. The beer’s malt is accentuated by the baking, and the mild hops echo on the palate long after the cupcake is gone. Even more impressive is that this is a “virgin” offering, with the ale’s easily-evaporating alcohol left behind in the oven.

We conclude with an Irish Car Bomb, which may deter Prohibition Bakery’s potential Fenian clientele, but is an amazing cupcake no matter what you call it. Packing the bar-brawl triumvirate of Guinness, Bailey’s and Irish whiskey, it is lush and deep and exactly what you want at the end of a long night on the Lower East Side.

Prohibition Bakery’s Irish Car Bomb (L) and Pretzels and Beer (R) cupcakes

How much hooch is actually in these innovative cupcakes? There are no official recipes yet, but I left Prohibition Bakery and spilled onto Clinton with a familiar feeling:

I could drive right now, but I’m glad I don’t have to.


Prohibition Bakery – The Proof is in the Frosting

Prohibition Bakery’s White Russian (L), Sangria (R) and Salted Margarita (background) cupcakes

Leslie Feinberg is explaining to me how alcohol affects the baking chemistry of a cupcake when her attention is yanked across the room, where two thickset men in A-shirts and cotton gloves are struggling to lift a just-delivered Moffat oven. Leslie, an ex-bartender and lifelong baking fanatic who “didn’t even know cake mix existed until high school”, cringes as the worker who almost lost his grip on the 400+ pound cube steadies himself, biceps quivering.

Brooke Siem, a former ballerina and a classically-trained chef whose resume includes a stint in the mad scientist kitchen of wd

50 plus a winemaking internship at Long Island’s Bedell Cellars, watches the spectacle wearily with a young entrepreneur’s tenacious, sleep-starved eyes.

“This is our second oven,” Leslie tells me. “The first one didn’t fit through the door.”

And so a bakery is born. Leslie and Brooke, friends since meeting on a January 2011 Birthright Israel trip, started Prohibition Bakery last August. Without a permanent retail location, the pair’s bite-sized, booze-infused cupcakes have so far been limited to NYC’s catering circuit and open-air markets.

This changes shortly, when the door of 9 Clinton Street opens to pedestrian traffic. By staking their confectionery claim on the same block as Cocoa Bar and Clinton Street Baking Co., Leslie and Brooke are–intentionally or not–betting that Prohibition Bakery’s adult treats will stand out in the city’s decadently crowded dessert scene.

After tasting the wares, good luck not believing in them.

Brooke Siem (L) and Leslie Feinberg (R) strategize their business plan. Photo courtesy of Prohibition Bakery via Dessert Professionals Magazine.

I begin a cupcake “flight” with Prohibition Bakery’s Sangria, a faithful nod to the fruits typically in the summer drink: Orange cake, pear brandy frosting, and an apple chip garnish. Its major success is the oozing Cabernet Sauvignon core that somehow preserves the wine’s complex flavor profile.

Next comes Salted Margarita. After bartending at West Village stalwart Tortilla Flats, Leslie “conservatively” estimates she has made over 8,000 margaritas. The cupcake and its bulls-eye balance of salty, tangy, sweet, and a warm finish from doses of tequila and triple sec, testifies to her battle-tested expertise.

The best part of the White Russian is the dark, brooding, bitter espresso cake. As I swallow it, Brooke reads my mind and notes that her culinary training was primarily in savory, so full-throttle sugar assaults are rarely–if ever–her style. Here, the rich and gently sweet Kahlua frosting is a pitch-perfect counterpoint to the cake.

Build a Charcuterie Board Like A Pro

Pretzels and Beer wins the “concept” prize, with a waffle pretzel nesting on a cloud of Nutella frosting, which covers a Bass Ale-infused pretzel cake. The beer’s malt is accentuated by the baking, and the mild hops echo on the palate long after the cupcake is gone. Even more impressive is that this is a “virgin” offering, with the ale’s easily-evaporating alcohol left behind in the oven.

We conclude with an Irish Car Bomb, which may deter Prohibition Bakery’s potential Fenian clientele, but is an amazing cupcake no matter what you call it. Packing the bar-brawl triumvirate of Guinness, Bailey’s and Irish whiskey, it is lush and deep and exactly what you want at the end of a long night on the Lower East Side.

Prohibition Bakery’s Irish Car Bomb (L) and Pretzels and Beer (R) cupcakes

How much hooch is actually in these innovative cupcakes? There are no official recipes yet, but I left Prohibition Bakery and spilled onto Clinton with a familiar feeling:

I could drive right now, but I’m glad I don’t have to.


Prohibition Bakery – The Proof is in the Frosting

Prohibition Bakery’s White Russian (L), Sangria (R) and Salted Margarita (background) cupcakes

Leslie Feinberg is explaining to me how alcohol affects the baking chemistry of a cupcake when her attention is yanked across the room, where two thickset men in A-shirts and cotton gloves are struggling to lift a just-delivered Moffat oven. Leslie, an ex-bartender and lifelong baking fanatic who “didn’t even know cake mix existed until high school”, cringes as the worker who almost lost his grip on the 400+ pound cube steadies himself, biceps quivering.

Brooke Siem, a former ballerina and a classically-trained chef whose resume includes a stint in the mad scientist kitchen of wd

50 plus a winemaking internship at Long Island’s Bedell Cellars, watches the spectacle wearily with a young entrepreneur’s tenacious, sleep-starved eyes.

“This is our second oven,” Leslie tells me. “The first one didn’t fit through the door.”

And so a bakery is born. Leslie and Brooke, friends since meeting on a January 2011 Birthright Israel trip, started Prohibition Bakery last August. Without a permanent retail location, the pair’s bite-sized, booze-infused cupcakes have so far been limited to NYC’s catering circuit and open-air markets.

This changes shortly, when the door of 9 Clinton Street opens to pedestrian traffic. By staking their confectionery claim on the same block as Cocoa Bar and Clinton Street Baking Co., Leslie and Brooke are–intentionally or not–betting that Prohibition Bakery’s adult treats will stand out in the city’s decadently crowded dessert scene.

After tasting the wares, good luck not believing in them.

Brooke Siem (L) and Leslie Feinberg (R) strategize their business plan. Photo courtesy of Prohibition Bakery via Dessert Professionals Magazine.

I begin a cupcake “flight” with Prohibition Bakery’s Sangria, a faithful nod to the fruits typically in the summer drink: Orange cake, pear brandy frosting, and an apple chip garnish. Its major success is the oozing Cabernet Sauvignon core that somehow preserves the wine’s complex flavor profile.

Next comes Salted Margarita. After bartending at West Village stalwart Tortilla Flats, Leslie “conservatively” estimates she has made over 8,000 margaritas. The cupcake and its bulls-eye balance of salty, tangy, sweet, and a warm finish from doses of tequila and triple sec, testifies to her battle-tested expertise.

The best part of the White Russian is the dark, brooding, bitter espresso cake. As I swallow it, Brooke reads my mind and notes that her culinary training was primarily in savory, so full-throttle sugar assaults are rarely–if ever–her style. Here, the rich and gently sweet Kahlua frosting is a pitch-perfect counterpoint to the cake.

Build a Charcuterie Board Like A Pro

Pretzels and Beer wins the “concept” prize, with a waffle pretzel nesting on a cloud of Nutella frosting, which covers a Bass Ale-infused pretzel cake. The beer’s malt is accentuated by the baking, and the mild hops echo on the palate long after the cupcake is gone. Even more impressive is that this is a “virgin” offering, with the ale’s easily-evaporating alcohol left behind in the oven.

We conclude with an Irish Car Bomb, which may deter Prohibition Bakery’s potential Fenian clientele, but is an amazing cupcake no matter what you call it. Packing the bar-brawl triumvirate of Guinness, Bailey’s and Irish whiskey, it is lush and deep and exactly what you want at the end of a long night on the Lower East Side.

Prohibition Bakery’s Irish Car Bomb (L) and Pretzels and Beer (R) cupcakes

How much hooch is actually in these innovative cupcakes? There are no official recipes yet, but I left Prohibition Bakery and spilled onto Clinton with a familiar feeling:

I could drive right now, but I’m glad I don’t have to.


Prohibition Bakery – The Proof is in the Frosting

Prohibition Bakery’s White Russian (L), Sangria (R) and Salted Margarita (background) cupcakes

Leslie Feinberg is explaining to me how alcohol affects the baking chemistry of a cupcake when her attention is yanked across the room, where two thickset men in A-shirts and cotton gloves are struggling to lift a just-delivered Moffat oven. Leslie, an ex-bartender and lifelong baking fanatic who “didn’t even know cake mix existed until high school”, cringes as the worker who almost lost his grip on the 400+ pound cube steadies himself, biceps quivering.

Brooke Siem, a former ballerina and a classically-trained chef whose resume includes a stint in the mad scientist kitchen of wd

50 plus a winemaking internship at Long Island’s Bedell Cellars, watches the spectacle wearily with a young entrepreneur’s tenacious, sleep-starved eyes.

“This is our second oven,” Leslie tells me. “The first one didn’t fit through the door.”

And so a bakery is born. Leslie and Brooke, friends since meeting on a January 2011 Birthright Israel trip, started Prohibition Bakery last August. Without a permanent retail location, the pair’s bite-sized, booze-infused cupcakes have so far been limited to NYC’s catering circuit and open-air markets.

This changes shortly, when the door of 9 Clinton Street opens to pedestrian traffic. By staking their confectionery claim on the same block as Cocoa Bar and Clinton Street Baking Co., Leslie and Brooke are–intentionally or not–betting that Prohibition Bakery’s adult treats will stand out in the city’s decadently crowded dessert scene.

After tasting the wares, good luck not believing in them.

Brooke Siem (L) and Leslie Feinberg (R) strategize their business plan. Photo courtesy of Prohibition Bakery via Dessert Professionals Magazine.

I begin a cupcake “flight” with Prohibition Bakery’s Sangria, a faithful nod to the fruits typically in the summer drink: Orange cake, pear brandy frosting, and an apple chip garnish. Its major success is the oozing Cabernet Sauvignon core that somehow preserves the wine’s complex flavor profile.

Next comes Salted Margarita. After bartending at West Village stalwart Tortilla Flats, Leslie “conservatively” estimates she has made over 8,000 margaritas. The cupcake and its bulls-eye balance of salty, tangy, sweet, and a warm finish from doses of tequila and triple sec, testifies to her battle-tested expertise.

The best part of the White Russian is the dark, brooding, bitter espresso cake. As I swallow it, Brooke reads my mind and notes that her culinary training was primarily in savory, so full-throttle sugar assaults are rarely–if ever–her style. Here, the rich and gently sweet Kahlua frosting is a pitch-perfect counterpoint to the cake.

Build a Charcuterie Board Like A Pro

Pretzels and Beer wins the “concept” prize, with a waffle pretzel nesting on a cloud of Nutella frosting, which covers a Bass Ale-infused pretzel cake. The beer’s malt is accentuated by the baking, and the mild hops echo on the palate long after the cupcake is gone. Even more impressive is that this is a “virgin” offering, with the ale’s easily-evaporating alcohol left behind in the oven.

We conclude with an Irish Car Bomb, which may deter Prohibition Bakery’s potential Fenian clientele, but is an amazing cupcake no matter what you call it. Packing the bar-brawl triumvirate of Guinness, Bailey’s and Irish whiskey, it is lush and deep and exactly what you want at the end of a long night on the Lower East Side.

Prohibition Bakery’s Irish Car Bomb (L) and Pretzels and Beer (R) cupcakes

How much hooch is actually in these innovative cupcakes? There are no official recipes yet, but I left Prohibition Bakery and spilled onto Clinton with a familiar feeling:

I could drive right now, but I’m glad I don’t have to.


Prohibition Bakery – The Proof is in the Frosting

Prohibition Bakery’s White Russian (L), Sangria (R) and Salted Margarita (background) cupcakes

Leslie Feinberg is explaining to me how alcohol affects the baking chemistry of a cupcake when her attention is yanked across the room, where two thickset men in A-shirts and cotton gloves are struggling to lift a just-delivered Moffat oven. Leslie, an ex-bartender and lifelong baking fanatic who “didn’t even know cake mix existed until high school”, cringes as the worker who almost lost his grip on the 400+ pound cube steadies himself, biceps quivering.

Brooke Siem, a former ballerina and a classically-trained chef whose resume includes a stint in the mad scientist kitchen of wd

50 plus a winemaking internship at Long Island’s Bedell Cellars, watches the spectacle wearily with a young entrepreneur’s tenacious, sleep-starved eyes.

“This is our second oven,” Leslie tells me. “The first one didn’t fit through the door.”

And so a bakery is born. Leslie and Brooke, friends since meeting on a January 2011 Birthright Israel trip, started Prohibition Bakery last August. Without a permanent retail location, the pair’s bite-sized, booze-infused cupcakes have so far been limited to NYC’s catering circuit and open-air markets.

This changes shortly, when the door of 9 Clinton Street opens to pedestrian traffic. By staking their confectionery claim on the same block as Cocoa Bar and Clinton Street Baking Co., Leslie and Brooke are–intentionally or not–betting that Prohibition Bakery’s adult treats will stand out in the city’s decadently crowded dessert scene.

After tasting the wares, good luck not believing in them.

Brooke Siem (L) and Leslie Feinberg (R) strategize their business plan. Photo courtesy of Prohibition Bakery via Dessert Professionals Magazine.

I begin a cupcake “flight” with Prohibition Bakery’s Sangria, a faithful nod to the fruits typically in the summer drink: Orange cake, pear brandy frosting, and an apple chip garnish. Its major success is the oozing Cabernet Sauvignon core that somehow preserves the wine’s complex flavor profile.

Next comes Salted Margarita. After bartending at West Village stalwart Tortilla Flats, Leslie “conservatively” estimates she has made over 8,000 margaritas. The cupcake and its bulls-eye balance of salty, tangy, sweet, and a warm finish from doses of tequila and triple sec, testifies to her battle-tested expertise.

The best part of the White Russian is the dark, brooding, bitter espresso cake. As I swallow it, Brooke reads my mind and notes that her culinary training was primarily in savory, so full-throttle sugar assaults are rarely–if ever–her style. Here, the rich and gently sweet Kahlua frosting is a pitch-perfect counterpoint to the cake.

Build a Charcuterie Board Like A Pro

Pretzels and Beer wins the “concept” prize, with a waffle pretzel nesting on a cloud of Nutella frosting, which covers a Bass Ale-infused pretzel cake. The beer’s malt is accentuated by the baking, and the mild hops echo on the palate long after the cupcake is gone. Even more impressive is that this is a “virgin” offering, with the ale’s easily-evaporating alcohol left behind in the oven.

We conclude with an Irish Car Bomb, which may deter Prohibition Bakery’s potential Fenian clientele, but is an amazing cupcake no matter what you call it. Packing the bar-brawl triumvirate of Guinness, Bailey’s and Irish whiskey, it is lush and deep and exactly what you want at the end of a long night on the Lower East Side.

Prohibition Bakery’s Irish Car Bomb (L) and Pretzels and Beer (R) cupcakes

How much hooch is actually in these innovative cupcakes? There are no official recipes yet, but I left Prohibition Bakery and spilled onto Clinton with a familiar feeling:

I could drive right now, but I’m glad I don’t have to.


Prohibition Bakery – The Proof is in the Frosting

Prohibition Bakery’s White Russian (L), Sangria (R) and Salted Margarita (background) cupcakes

Leslie Feinberg is explaining to me how alcohol affects the baking chemistry of a cupcake when her attention is yanked across the room, where two thickset men in A-shirts and cotton gloves are struggling to lift a just-delivered Moffat oven. Leslie, an ex-bartender and lifelong baking fanatic who “didn’t even know cake mix existed until high school”, cringes as the worker who almost lost his grip on the 400+ pound cube steadies himself, biceps quivering.

Brooke Siem, a former ballerina and a classically-trained chef whose resume includes a stint in the mad scientist kitchen of wd

50 plus a winemaking internship at Long Island’s Bedell Cellars, watches the spectacle wearily with a young entrepreneur’s tenacious, sleep-starved eyes.

“This is our second oven,” Leslie tells me. “The first one didn’t fit through the door.”

And so a bakery is born. Leslie and Brooke, friends since meeting on a January 2011 Birthright Israel trip, started Prohibition Bakery last August. Without a permanent retail location, the pair’s bite-sized, booze-infused cupcakes have so far been limited to NYC’s catering circuit and open-air markets.

This changes shortly, when the door of 9 Clinton Street opens to pedestrian traffic. By staking their confectionery claim on the same block as Cocoa Bar and Clinton Street Baking Co., Leslie and Brooke are–intentionally or not–betting that Prohibition Bakery’s adult treats will stand out in the city’s decadently crowded dessert scene.

After tasting the wares, good luck not believing in them.

Brooke Siem (L) and Leslie Feinberg (R) strategize their business plan. Photo courtesy of Prohibition Bakery via Dessert Professionals Magazine.

I begin a cupcake “flight” with Prohibition Bakery’s Sangria, a faithful nod to the fruits typically in the summer drink: Orange cake, pear brandy frosting, and an apple chip garnish. Its major success is the oozing Cabernet Sauvignon core that somehow preserves the wine’s complex flavor profile.

Next comes Salted Margarita. After bartending at West Village stalwart Tortilla Flats, Leslie “conservatively” estimates she has made over 8,000 margaritas. The cupcake and its bulls-eye balance of salty, tangy, sweet, and a warm finish from doses of tequila and triple sec, testifies to her battle-tested expertise.

The best part of the White Russian is the dark, brooding, bitter espresso cake. As I swallow it, Brooke reads my mind and notes that her culinary training was primarily in savory, so full-throttle sugar assaults are rarely–if ever–her style. Here, the rich and gently sweet Kahlua frosting is a pitch-perfect counterpoint to the cake.

Build a Charcuterie Board Like A Pro

Pretzels and Beer wins the “concept” prize, with a waffle pretzel nesting on a cloud of Nutella frosting, which covers a Bass Ale-infused pretzel cake. The beer’s malt is accentuated by the baking, and the mild hops echo on the palate long after the cupcake is gone. Even more impressive is that this is a “virgin” offering, with the ale’s easily-evaporating alcohol left behind in the oven.

We conclude with an Irish Car Bomb, which may deter Prohibition Bakery’s potential Fenian clientele, but is an amazing cupcake no matter what you call it. Packing the bar-brawl triumvirate of Guinness, Bailey’s and Irish whiskey, it is lush and deep and exactly what you want at the end of a long night on the Lower East Side.

Prohibition Bakery’s Irish Car Bomb (L) and Pretzels and Beer (R) cupcakes

How much hooch is actually in these innovative cupcakes? There are no official recipes yet, but I left Prohibition Bakery and spilled onto Clinton with a familiar feeling:

I could drive right now, but I’m glad I don’t have to.


Prohibition Bakery – The Proof is in the Frosting

Prohibition Bakery’s White Russian (L), Sangria (R) and Salted Margarita (background) cupcakes

Leslie Feinberg is explaining to me how alcohol affects the baking chemistry of a cupcake when her attention is yanked across the room, where two thickset men in A-shirts and cotton gloves are struggling to lift a just-delivered Moffat oven. Leslie, an ex-bartender and lifelong baking fanatic who “didn’t even know cake mix existed until high school”, cringes as the worker who almost lost his grip on the 400+ pound cube steadies himself, biceps quivering.

Brooke Siem, a former ballerina and a classically-trained chef whose resume includes a stint in the mad scientist kitchen of wd

50 plus a winemaking internship at Long Island’s Bedell Cellars, watches the spectacle wearily with a young entrepreneur’s tenacious, sleep-starved eyes.

“This is our second oven,” Leslie tells me. “The first one didn’t fit through the door.”

And so a bakery is born. Leslie and Brooke, friends since meeting on a January 2011 Birthright Israel trip, started Prohibition Bakery last August. Without a permanent retail location, the pair’s bite-sized, booze-infused cupcakes have so far been limited to NYC’s catering circuit and open-air markets.

This changes shortly, when the door of 9 Clinton Street opens to pedestrian traffic. By staking their confectionery claim on the same block as Cocoa Bar and Clinton Street Baking Co., Leslie and Brooke are–intentionally or not–betting that Prohibition Bakery’s adult treats will stand out in the city’s decadently crowded dessert scene.

After tasting the wares, good luck not believing in them.

Brooke Siem (L) and Leslie Feinberg (R) strategize their business plan. Photo courtesy of Prohibition Bakery via Dessert Professionals Magazine.

I begin a cupcake “flight” with Prohibition Bakery’s Sangria, a faithful nod to the fruits typically in the summer drink: Orange cake, pear brandy frosting, and an apple chip garnish. Its major success is the oozing Cabernet Sauvignon core that somehow preserves the wine’s complex flavor profile.

Next comes Salted Margarita. After bartending at West Village stalwart Tortilla Flats, Leslie “conservatively” estimates she has made over 8,000 margaritas. The cupcake and its bulls-eye balance of salty, tangy, sweet, and a warm finish from doses of tequila and triple sec, testifies to her battle-tested expertise.

The best part of the White Russian is the dark, brooding, bitter espresso cake. As I swallow it, Brooke reads my mind and notes that her culinary training was primarily in savory, so full-throttle sugar assaults are rarely–if ever–her style. Here, the rich and gently sweet Kahlua frosting is a pitch-perfect counterpoint to the cake.

Build a Charcuterie Board Like A Pro

Pretzels and Beer wins the “concept” prize, with a waffle pretzel nesting on a cloud of Nutella frosting, which covers a Bass Ale-infused pretzel cake. The beer’s malt is accentuated by the baking, and the mild hops echo on the palate long after the cupcake is gone. Even more impressive is that this is a “virgin” offering, with the ale’s easily-evaporating alcohol left behind in the oven.

We conclude with an Irish Car Bomb, which may deter Prohibition Bakery’s potential Fenian clientele, but is an amazing cupcake no matter what you call it. Packing the bar-brawl triumvirate of Guinness, Bailey’s and Irish whiskey, it is lush and deep and exactly what you want at the end of a long night on the Lower East Side.

Prohibition Bakery’s Irish Car Bomb (L) and Pretzels and Beer (R) cupcakes

How much hooch is actually in these innovative cupcakes? There are no official recipes yet, but I left Prohibition Bakery and spilled onto Clinton with a familiar feeling:

I could drive right now, but I’m glad I don’t have to.


Prohibition Bakery – The Proof is in the Frosting

Prohibition Bakery’s White Russian (L), Sangria (R) and Salted Margarita (background) cupcakes

Leslie Feinberg is explaining to me how alcohol affects the baking chemistry of a cupcake when her attention is yanked across the room, where two thickset men in A-shirts and cotton gloves are struggling to lift a just-delivered Moffat oven. Leslie, an ex-bartender and lifelong baking fanatic who “didn’t even know cake mix existed until high school”, cringes as the worker who almost lost his grip on the 400+ pound cube steadies himself, biceps quivering.

Brooke Siem, a former ballerina and a classically-trained chef whose resume includes a stint in the mad scientist kitchen of wd

50 plus a winemaking internship at Long Island’s Bedell Cellars, watches the spectacle wearily with a young entrepreneur’s tenacious, sleep-starved eyes.

“This is our second oven,” Leslie tells me. “The first one didn’t fit through the door.”

And so a bakery is born. Leslie and Brooke, friends since meeting on a January 2011 Birthright Israel trip, started Prohibition Bakery last August. Without a permanent retail location, the pair’s bite-sized, booze-infused cupcakes have so far been limited to NYC’s catering circuit and open-air markets.

This changes shortly, when the door of 9 Clinton Street opens to pedestrian traffic. By staking their confectionery claim on the same block as Cocoa Bar and Clinton Street Baking Co., Leslie and Brooke are–intentionally or not–betting that Prohibition Bakery’s adult treats will stand out in the city’s decadently crowded dessert scene.

After tasting the wares, good luck not believing in them.

Brooke Siem (L) and Leslie Feinberg (R) strategize their business plan. Photo courtesy of Prohibition Bakery via Dessert Professionals Magazine.

I begin a cupcake “flight” with Prohibition Bakery’s Sangria, a faithful nod to the fruits typically in the summer drink: Orange cake, pear brandy frosting, and an apple chip garnish. Its major success is the oozing Cabernet Sauvignon core that somehow preserves the wine’s complex flavor profile.

Next comes Salted Margarita. After bartending at West Village stalwart Tortilla Flats, Leslie “conservatively” estimates she has made over 8,000 margaritas. The cupcake and its bulls-eye balance of salty, tangy, sweet, and a warm finish from doses of tequila and triple sec, testifies to her battle-tested expertise.

The best part of the White Russian is the dark, brooding, bitter espresso cake. As I swallow it, Brooke reads my mind and notes that her culinary training was primarily in savory, so full-throttle sugar assaults are rarely–if ever–her style. Here, the rich and gently sweet Kahlua frosting is a pitch-perfect counterpoint to the cake.

Build a Charcuterie Board Like A Pro

Pretzels and Beer wins the “concept” prize, with a waffle pretzel nesting on a cloud of Nutella frosting, which covers a Bass Ale-infused pretzel cake. The beer’s malt is accentuated by the baking, and the mild hops echo on the palate long after the cupcake is gone. Even more impressive is that this is a “virgin” offering, with the ale’s easily-evaporating alcohol left behind in the oven.

We conclude with an Irish Car Bomb, which may deter Prohibition Bakery’s potential Fenian clientele, but is an amazing cupcake no matter what you call it. Packing the bar-brawl triumvirate of Guinness, Bailey’s and Irish whiskey, it is lush and deep and exactly what you want at the end of a long night on the Lower East Side.

Prohibition Bakery’s Irish Car Bomb (L) and Pretzels and Beer (R) cupcakes

How much hooch is actually in these innovative cupcakes? There are no official recipes yet, but I left Prohibition Bakery and spilled onto Clinton with a familiar feeling:

I could drive right now, but I’m glad I don’t have to.


Prohibition Bakery – The Proof is in the Frosting

Prohibition Bakery’s White Russian (L), Sangria (R) and Salted Margarita (background) cupcakes

Leslie Feinberg is explaining to me how alcohol affects the baking chemistry of a cupcake when her attention is yanked across the room, where two thickset men in A-shirts and cotton gloves are struggling to lift a just-delivered Moffat oven. Leslie, an ex-bartender and lifelong baking fanatic who “didn’t even know cake mix existed until high school”, cringes as the worker who almost lost his grip on the 400+ pound cube steadies himself, biceps quivering.

Brooke Siem, a former ballerina and a classically-trained chef whose resume includes a stint in the mad scientist kitchen of wd

50 plus a winemaking internship at Long Island’s Bedell Cellars, watches the spectacle wearily with a young entrepreneur’s tenacious, sleep-starved eyes.

“This is our second oven,” Leslie tells me. “The first one didn’t fit through the door.”

And so a bakery is born. Leslie and Brooke, friends since meeting on a January 2011 Birthright Israel trip, started Prohibition Bakery last August. Without a permanent retail location, the pair’s bite-sized, booze-infused cupcakes have so far been limited to NYC’s catering circuit and open-air markets.

This changes shortly, when the door of 9 Clinton Street opens to pedestrian traffic. By staking their confectionery claim on the same block as Cocoa Bar and Clinton Street Baking Co., Leslie and Brooke are–intentionally or not–betting that Prohibition Bakery’s adult treats will stand out in the city’s decadently crowded dessert scene.

After tasting the wares, good luck not believing in them.

Brooke Siem (L) and Leslie Feinberg (R) strategize their business plan. Photo courtesy of Prohibition Bakery via Dessert Professionals Magazine.

I begin a cupcake “flight” with Prohibition Bakery’s Sangria, a faithful nod to the fruits typically in the summer drink: Orange cake, pear brandy frosting, and an apple chip garnish. Its major success is the oozing Cabernet Sauvignon core that somehow preserves the wine’s complex flavor profile.

Next comes Salted Margarita. After bartending at West Village stalwart Tortilla Flats, Leslie “conservatively” estimates she has made over 8,000 margaritas. The cupcake and its bulls-eye balance of salty, tangy, sweet, and a warm finish from doses of tequila and triple sec, testifies to her battle-tested expertise.

The best part of the White Russian is the dark, brooding, bitter espresso cake. As I swallow it, Brooke reads my mind and notes that her culinary training was primarily in savory, so full-throttle sugar assaults are rarely–if ever–her style. Here, the rich and gently sweet Kahlua frosting is a pitch-perfect counterpoint to the cake.

Build a Charcuterie Board Like A Pro

Pretzels and Beer wins the “concept” prize, with a waffle pretzel nesting on a cloud of Nutella frosting, which covers a Bass Ale-infused pretzel cake. The beer’s malt is accentuated by the baking, and the mild hops echo on the palate long after the cupcake is gone. Even more impressive is that this is a “virgin” offering, with the ale’s easily-evaporating alcohol left behind in the oven.

We conclude with an Irish Car Bomb, which may deter Prohibition Bakery’s potential Fenian clientele, but is an amazing cupcake no matter what you call it. Packing the bar-brawl triumvirate of Guinness, Bailey’s and Irish whiskey, it is lush and deep and exactly what you want at the end of a long night on the Lower East Side.

Prohibition Bakery’s Irish Car Bomb (L) and Pretzels and Beer (R) cupcakes

How much hooch is actually in these innovative cupcakes? There are no official recipes yet, but I left Prohibition Bakery and spilled onto Clinton with a familiar feeling:

I could drive right now, but I’m glad I don’t have to.


Prohibition Bakery – The Proof is in the Frosting

Prohibition Bakery’s White Russian (L), Sangria (R) and Salted Margarita (background) cupcakes

Leslie Feinberg is explaining to me how alcohol affects the baking chemistry of a cupcake when her attention is yanked across the room, where two thickset men in A-shirts and cotton gloves are struggling to lift a just-delivered Moffat oven. Leslie, an ex-bartender and lifelong baking fanatic who “didn’t even know cake mix existed until high school”, cringes as the worker who almost lost his grip on the 400+ pound cube steadies himself, biceps quivering.

Brooke Siem, a former ballerina and a classically-trained chef whose resume includes a stint in the mad scientist kitchen of wd

50 plus a winemaking internship at Long Island’s Bedell Cellars, watches the spectacle wearily with a young entrepreneur’s tenacious, sleep-starved eyes.

“This is our second oven,” Leslie tells me. “The first one didn’t fit through the door.”

And so a bakery is born. Leslie and Brooke, friends since meeting on a January 2011 Birthright Israel trip, started Prohibition Bakery last August. Without a permanent retail location, the pair’s bite-sized, booze-infused cupcakes have so far been limited to NYC’s catering circuit and open-air markets.

This changes shortly, when the door of 9 Clinton Street opens to pedestrian traffic. By staking their confectionery claim on the same block as Cocoa Bar and Clinton Street Baking Co., Leslie and Brooke are–intentionally or not–betting that Prohibition Bakery’s adult treats will stand out in the city’s decadently crowded dessert scene.

After tasting the wares, good luck not believing in them.

Brooke Siem (L) and Leslie Feinberg (R) strategize their business plan. Photo courtesy of Prohibition Bakery via Dessert Professionals Magazine.

I begin a cupcake “flight” with Prohibition Bakery’s Sangria, a faithful nod to the fruits typically in the summer drink: Orange cake, pear brandy frosting, and an apple chip garnish. Its major success is the oozing Cabernet Sauvignon core that somehow preserves the wine’s complex flavor profile.

Next comes Salted Margarita. After bartending at West Village stalwart Tortilla Flats, Leslie “conservatively” estimates she has made over 8,000 margaritas. The cupcake and its bulls-eye balance of salty, tangy, sweet, and a warm finish from doses of tequila and triple sec, testifies to her battle-tested expertise.

The best part of the White Russian is the dark, brooding, bitter espresso cake. As I swallow it, Brooke reads my mind and notes that her culinary training was primarily in savory, so full-throttle sugar assaults are rarely–if ever–her style. Here, the rich and gently sweet Kahlua frosting is a pitch-perfect counterpoint to the cake.

Build a Charcuterie Board Like A Pro

Pretzels and Beer wins the “concept” prize, with a waffle pretzel nesting on a cloud of Nutella frosting, which covers a Bass Ale-infused pretzel cake. The beer’s malt is accentuated by the baking, and the mild hops echo on the palate long after the cupcake is gone. Even more impressive is that this is a “virgin” offering, with the ale’s easily-evaporating alcohol left behind in the oven.

We conclude with an Irish Car Bomb, which may deter Prohibition Bakery’s potential Fenian clientele, but is an amazing cupcake no matter what you call it. Packing the bar-brawl triumvirate of Guinness, Bailey’s and Irish whiskey, it is lush and deep and exactly what you want at the end of a long night on the Lower East Side.

Prohibition Bakery’s Irish Car Bomb (L) and Pretzels and Beer (R) cupcakes

How much hooch is actually in these innovative cupcakes? There are no official recipes yet, but I left Prohibition Bakery and spilled onto Clinton with a familiar feeling:

I could drive right now, but I’m glad I don’t have to.


Prohibition Bakery – The Proof is in the Frosting

Prohibition Bakery’s White Russian (L), Sangria (R) and Salted Margarita (background) cupcakes

Leslie Feinberg is explaining to me how alcohol affects the baking chemistry of a cupcake when her attention is yanked across the room, where two thickset men in A-shirts and cotton gloves are struggling to lift a just-delivered Moffat oven. Leslie, an ex-bartender and lifelong baking fanatic who “didn’t even know cake mix existed until high school”, cringes as the worker who almost lost his grip on the 400+ pound cube steadies himself, biceps quivering.

Brooke Siem, a former ballerina and a classically-trained chef whose resume includes a stint in the mad scientist kitchen of wd

50 plus a winemaking internship at Long Island’s Bedell Cellars, watches the spectacle wearily with a young entrepreneur’s tenacious, sleep-starved eyes.

“This is our second oven,” Leslie tells me. “The first one didn’t fit through the door.”

And so a bakery is born. Leslie and Brooke, friends since meeting on a January 2011 Birthright Israel trip, started Prohibition Bakery last August. Without a permanent retail location, the pair’s bite-sized, booze-infused cupcakes have so far been limited to NYC’s catering circuit and open-air markets.

This changes shortly, when the door of 9 Clinton Street opens to pedestrian traffic. By staking their confectionery claim on the same block as Cocoa Bar and Clinton Street Baking Co., Leslie and Brooke are–intentionally or not–betting that Prohibition Bakery’s adult treats will stand out in the city’s decadently crowded dessert scene.

After tasting the wares, good luck not believing in them.

Brooke Siem (L) and Leslie Feinberg (R) strategize their business plan. Photo courtesy of Prohibition Bakery via Dessert Professionals Magazine.

I begin a cupcake “flight” with Prohibition Bakery’s Sangria, a faithful nod to the fruits typically in the summer drink: Orange cake, pear brandy frosting, and an apple chip garnish. Its major success is the oozing Cabernet Sauvignon core that somehow preserves the wine’s complex flavor profile.

Next comes Salted Margarita. After bartending at West Village stalwart Tortilla Flats, Leslie “conservatively” estimates she has made over 8,000 margaritas. The cupcake and its bulls-eye balance of salty, tangy, sweet, and a warm finish from doses of tequila and triple sec, testifies to her battle-tested expertise.

The best part of the White Russian is the dark, brooding, bitter espresso cake. As I swallow it, Brooke reads my mind and notes that her culinary training was primarily in savory, so full-throttle sugar assaults are rarely–if ever–her style. Here, the rich and gently sweet Kahlua frosting is a pitch-perfect counterpoint to the cake.

Build a Charcuterie Board Like A Pro

Pretzels and Beer wins the “concept” prize, with a waffle pretzel nesting on a cloud of Nutella frosting, which covers a Bass Ale-infused pretzel cake. The beer’s malt is accentuated by the baking, and the mild hops echo on the palate long after the cupcake is gone. Even more impressive is that this is a “virgin” offering, with the ale’s easily-evaporating alcohol left behind in the oven.

We conclude with an Irish Car Bomb, which may deter Prohibition Bakery’s potential Fenian clientele, but is an amazing cupcake no matter what you call it. Packing the bar-brawl triumvirate of Guinness, Bailey’s and Irish whiskey, it is lush and deep and exactly what you want at the end of a long night on the Lower East Side.

Prohibition Bakery’s Irish Car Bomb (L) and Pretzels and Beer (R) cupcakes

How much hooch is actually in these innovative cupcakes? There are no official recipes yet, but I left Prohibition Bakery and spilled onto Clinton with a familiar feeling:

I could drive right now, but I’m glad I don’t have to.


Prohibition Bakery – The Proof is in the Frosting

Prohibition Bakery’s White Russian (L), Sangria (R) and Salted Margarita (background) cupcakes

Leslie Feinberg is explaining to me how alcohol affects the baking chemistry of a cupcake when her attention is yanked across the room, where two thickset men in A-shirts and cotton gloves are struggling to lift a just-delivered Moffat oven. Leslie, an ex-bartender and lifelong baking fanatic who “didn’t even know cake mix existed until high school”, cringes as the worker who almost lost his grip on the 400+ pound cube steadies himself, biceps quivering.

Brooke Siem, a former ballerina and a classically-trained chef whose resume includes a stint in the mad scientist kitchen of wd

50 plus a winemaking internship at Long Island’s Bedell Cellars, watches the spectacle wearily with a young entrepreneur’s tenacious, sleep-starved eyes.

“This is our second oven,” Leslie tells me. “The first one didn’t fit through the door.”

And so a bakery is born. Leslie and Brooke, friends since meeting on a January 2011 Birthright Israel trip, started Prohibition Bakery last August. Without a permanent retail location, the pair’s bite-sized, booze-infused cupcakes have so far been limited to NYC’s catering circuit and open-air markets.

This changes shortly, when the door of 9 Clinton Street opens to pedestrian traffic. By staking their confectionery claim on the same block as Cocoa Bar and Clinton Street Baking Co., Leslie and Brooke are–intentionally or not–betting that Prohibition Bakery’s adult treats will stand out in the city’s decadently crowded dessert scene.

After tasting the wares, good luck not believing in them.

Brooke Siem (L) and Leslie Feinberg (R) strategize their business plan. Photo courtesy of Prohibition Bakery via Dessert Professionals Magazine.

I begin a cupcake “flight” with Prohibition Bakery’s Sangria, a faithful nod to the fruits typically in the summer drink: Orange cake, pear brandy frosting, and an apple chip garnish. Its major success is the oozing Cabernet Sauvignon core that somehow preserves the wine’s complex flavor profile.

Next comes Salted Margarita. After bartending at West Village stalwart Tortilla Flats, Leslie “conservatively” estimates she has made over 8,000 margaritas. The cupcake and its bulls-eye balance of salty, tangy, sweet, and a warm finish from doses of tequila and triple sec, testifies to her battle-tested expertise.

The best part of the White Russian is the dark, brooding, bitter espresso cake. As I swallow it, Brooke reads my mind and notes that her culinary training was primarily in savory, so full-throttle sugar assaults are rarely–if ever–her style. Here, the rich and gently sweet Kahlua frosting is a pitch-perfect counterpoint to the cake.

Build a Charcuterie Board Like A Pro

Pretzels and Beer wins the “concept” prize, with a waffle pretzel nesting on a cloud of Nutella frosting, which covers a Bass Ale-infused pretzel cake. The beer’s malt is accentuated by the baking, and the mild hops echo on the palate long after the cupcake is gone. Even more impressive is that this is a “virgin” offering, with the ale’s easily-evaporating alcohol left behind in the oven.

We conclude with an Irish Car Bomb, which may deter Prohibition Bakery’s potential Fenian clientele, but is an amazing cupcake no matter what you call it. Packing the bar-brawl triumvirate of Guinness, Bailey’s and Irish whiskey, it is lush and deep and exactly what you want at the end of a long night on the Lower East Side.

Prohibition Bakery’s Irish Car Bomb (L) and Pretzels and Beer (R) cupcakes

How much hooch is actually in these innovative cupcakes? There are no official recipes yet, but I left Prohibition Bakery and spilled onto Clinton with a familiar feeling:

I could drive right now, but I’m glad I don’t have to.


Prohibition Bakery – The Proof is in the Frosting

Prohibition Bakery’s White Russian (L), Sangria (R) and Salted Margarita (background) cupcakes

Leslie Feinberg is explaining to me how alcohol affects the baking chemistry of a cupcake when her attention is yanked across the room, where two thickset men in A-shirts and cotton gloves are struggling to lift a just-delivered Moffat oven. Leslie, an ex-bartender and lifelong baking fanatic who “didn’t even know cake mix existed until high school”, cringes as the worker who almost lost his grip on the 400+ pound cube steadies himself, biceps quivering.

Brooke Siem, a former ballerina and a classically-trained chef whose resume includes a stint in the mad scientist kitchen of wd

50 plus a winemaking internship at Long Island’s Bedell Cellars, watches the spectacle wearily with a young entrepreneur’s tenacious, sleep-starved eyes.

“This is our second oven,” Leslie tells me. “The first one didn’t fit through the door.”

And so a bakery is born. Leslie and Brooke, friends since meeting on a January 2011 Birthright Israel trip, started Prohibition Bakery last August. Without a permanent retail location, the pair’s bite-sized, booze-infused cupcakes have so far been limited to NYC’s catering circuit and open-air markets.

This changes shortly, when the door of 9 Clinton Street opens to pedestrian traffic. By staking their confectionery claim on the same block as Cocoa Bar and Clinton Street Baking Co., Leslie and Brooke are–intentionally or not–betting that Prohibition Bakery’s adult treats will stand out in the city’s decadently crowded dessert scene.

After tasting the wares, good luck not believing in them.

Brooke Siem (L) and Leslie Feinberg (R) strategize their business plan. Photo courtesy of Prohibition Bakery via Dessert Professionals Magazine.

I begin a cupcake “flight” with Prohibition Bakery’s Sangria, a faithful nod to the fruits typically in the summer drink: Orange cake, pear brandy frosting, and an apple chip garnish. Its major success is the oozing Cabernet Sauvignon core that somehow preserves the wine’s complex flavor profile.

Next comes Salted Margarita. After bartending at West Village stalwart Tortilla Flats, Leslie “conservatively” estimates she has made over 8,000 margaritas. The cupcake and its bulls-eye balance of salty, tangy, sweet, and a warm finish from doses of tequila and triple sec, testifies to her battle-tested expertise.

The best part of the White Russian is the dark, brooding, bitter espresso cake. As I swallow it, Brooke reads my mind and notes that her culinary training was primarily in savory, so full-throttle sugar assaults are rarely–if ever–her style. Here, the rich and gently sweet Kahlua frosting is a pitch-perfect counterpoint to the cake.

Build a Charcuterie Board Like A Pro

Pretzels and Beer wins the “concept” prize, with a waffle pretzel nesting on a cloud of Nutella frosting, which covers a Bass Ale-infused pretzel cake. The beer’s malt is accentuated by the baking, and the mild hops echo on the palate long after the cupcake is gone. Even more impressive is that this is a “virgin” offering, with the ale’s easily-evaporating alcohol left behind in the oven.

We conclude with an Irish Car Bomb, which may deter Prohibition Bakery’s potential Fenian clientele, but is an amazing cupcake no matter what you call it. Packing the bar-brawl triumvirate of Guinness, Bailey’s and Irish whiskey, it is lush and deep and exactly what you want at the end of a long night on the Lower East Side.

Prohibition Bakery’s Irish Car Bomb (L) and Pretzels and Beer (R) cupcakes

How much hooch is actually in these innovative cupcakes? There are no official recipes yet, but I left Prohibition Bakery and spilled onto Clinton with a familiar feeling:

I could drive right now, but I’m glad I don’t have to.


Prohibition Bakery – The Proof is in the Frosting

Prohibition Bakery’s White Russian (L), Sangria (R) and Salted Margarita (background) cupcakes

Leslie Feinberg is explaining to me how alcohol affects the baking chemistry of a cupcake when her attention is yanked across the room, where two thickset men in A-shirts and cotton gloves are struggling to lift a just-delivered Moffat oven. Leslie, an ex-bartender and lifelong baking fanatic who “didn’t even know cake mix existed until high school”, cringes as the worker who almost lost his grip on the 400+ pound cube steadies himself, biceps quivering.

Brooke Siem, a former ballerina and a classically-trained chef whose resume includes a stint in the mad scientist kitchen of wd

50 plus a winemaking internship at Long Island’s Bedell Cellars, watches the spectacle wearily with a young entrepreneur’s tenacious, sleep-starved eyes.

“This is our second oven,” Leslie tells me. “The first one didn’t fit through the door.”

And so a bakery is born. Leslie and Brooke, friends since meeting on a January 2011 Birthright Israel trip, started Prohibition Bakery last August. Without a permanent retail location, the pair’s bite-sized, booze-infused cupcakes have so far been limited to NYC’s catering circuit and open-air markets.

This changes shortly, when the door of 9 Clinton Street opens to pedestrian traffic. By staking their confectionery claim on the same block as Cocoa Bar and Clinton Street Baking Co., Leslie and Brooke are–intentionally or not–betting that Prohibition Bakery’s adult treats will stand out in the city’s decadently crowded dessert scene.

After tasting the wares, good luck not believing in them.

Brooke Siem (L) and Leslie Feinberg (R) strategize their business plan. Photo courtesy of Prohibition Bakery via Dessert Professionals Magazine.

I begin a cupcake “flight” with Prohibition Bakery’s Sangria, a faithful nod to the fruits typically in the summer drink: Orange cake, pear brandy frosting, and an apple chip garnish. Its major success is the oozing Cabernet Sauvignon core that somehow preserves the wine’s complex flavor profile.

Next comes Salted Margarita. After bartending at West Village stalwart Tortilla Flats, Leslie “conservatively” estimates she has made over 8,000 margaritas. The cupcake and its bulls-eye balance of salty, tangy, sweet, and a warm finish from doses of tequila and triple sec, testifies to her battle-tested expertise.

The best part of the White Russian is the dark, brooding, bitter espresso cake. As I swallow it, Brooke reads my mind and notes that her culinary training was primarily in savory, so full-throttle sugar assaults are rarely–if ever–her style. Here, the rich and gently sweet Kahlua frosting is a pitch-perfect counterpoint to the cake.

Build a Charcuterie Board Like A Pro

Pretzels and Beer wins the “concept” prize, with a waffle pretzel nesting on a cloud of Nutella frosting, which covers a Bass Ale-infused pretzel cake. The beer’s malt is accentuated by the baking, and the mild hops echo on the palate long after the cupcake is gone. Even more impressive is that this is a “virgin” offering, with the ale’s easily-evaporating alcohol left behind in the oven.

We conclude with an Irish Car Bomb, which may deter Prohibition Bakery’s potential Fenian clientele, but is an amazing cupcake no matter what you call it. Packing the bar-brawl triumvirate of Guinness, Bailey’s and Irish whiskey, it is lush and deep and exactly what you want at the end of a long night on the Lower East Side.

Prohibition Bakery’s Irish Car Bomb (L) and Pretzels and Beer (R) cupcakes

How much hooch is actually in these innovative cupcakes? There are no official recipes yet, but I left Prohibition Bakery and spilled onto Clinton with a familiar feeling:

I could drive right now, but I’m glad I don’t have to.


Watch the video: Meet the ladies of Prohibition Bakery (December 2021).