Food & Drink

Sugar & vice

It wasn’t yet the end of the workday on Tuesday, but that didn’t stop a growing crowd of 20-somethings from assembling at a saucy new joint on the Lower East Side.

“It’s 5 o’clock somewhere,” reasons freelance publicist Katie Campisano, 24, margarita in hand.

“Cupcake version,” she quickly adds.

The cupcake in question is the Salted Margarita — lime cake filled with tequila, and topped with tequila-triple sec frosting — sold at Clinton Street’s brand-new Prohibition Bakery.

Here, happy hour starts at 11 a.m. every day but Monday, and takes the form of a high-end mini-cupcake, baked with booze by chef Brooke Siem, 26, and mixologist Leslie Feinberg, 28 — the owners.

PHOTOS: SWEETS ON OFFER AT PROHIBITION BAKERY

Your first clue this isn’t just your run-of-the-mill sweet shop: Warning signs and labels above the counter, which are required by law.

The treats are so alcoholic, customers are required to show ID to purchase them.

“If the picture in the ID is Bobby Hill, I’m going to know,” laughs Feinberg, a former bartender at Tortilla Flats, referring to the “King of the Hill” cartoon character whose face was recently used on fake IDs in a UK undercover operation.

Flavors range from the White Russian (espresso cake with vodka and Kahlúa frosting) to the Sex on the Beach (orange cake with vodka and peach schnapps and cranberry frosting), and most cost $2 each (or three for $5, a dozen for $20).

And, like any good cocktail, the alcohol in the cupcakes — be it beer, wine or liquor — is in balance with the rest of the ingredients. A typical New York gal could expect to get buzzed after six or more.

Late afternoon, customers agree, is the perfect time for boozy cupcakes.

Molly Shuster, 27, stopped in on her way to Gather Journal’s launch party. The recipe editor says she grew up having afternoon tea as a 4 p.m. pick-me-up.

“It’s the ideal in-between,” she says, in between bites of a White Russian cupcake.

Tim Dybvig, 31, a product manager at a tech startup, was playing hooky. “I said I was going out to make extra keys,” he shrugs.

Instead, he picked up a dozen treats for a surprise late afternoon office snack. “I’ll probably be here daily,” he admits.

But Prohibition isn’t going to pump a cupcake full of booze just because it can.

One of the six daily flavors will be, in Prohibition-era speak, dry.

But don’t expect the usual red velvet.

“We want our virgin flavors to stand out just as much as our boozy ones, so we continue to marry interesting and different ingredients,” says Feinberg.

The bacon-chocolate-toffee cupcake dubbed “For the Love of Bacon” is already a hit.

Prohibition’s Siem and Feinberg met on a birthright trip to Israel in 2011. Half-a-year later, they reunited at a party and were soon completing the paperwork necessary to start a catering and pop-up business.

This week they managed to open their first retail location.

“People are excited to have something that’s not a restaurant, bar or $50 spend,” says Feinberg.

Both are involved with recipe development and the actual baking, though Siem, who worked in the kitchen at Bar Boulud on the Upper West Side while pursuing a degree at the Institute of Culinary Education, is the official culinary half of the team.

Her a-ha moment happened during her brief time down the street at trail-blazing restaurant WD-50, where chef Wylie Dufresne taught her to think about food and flavors differently.

The main challenge, she says, is balancing liquor and sugar without compromising texture or flavor.

The duo’s infrequently available Scotch & Cigar cupcake was especially daunting. They chose smoky, intense Laphroaig for the frosting because, “Like cooking with wine, you’re going to use a flavor you want to come through.” And yes, there is a little tobacco in each molasses cake, which means they’re rationed cautiously.

“It’s the Black AmEx of our cupcakes — not everyone’s going to get one,” says Siem.

Keith Williams, 27, is among the select few. “I don’t really like cigars, but I do like scotch and the way the flavors play off each other,” says the psychological researcher.

Next, he bites into a Sex on the Beach.

“I’m wasted,” he says, grinning. “I need 10 more, then I’m going to bed — and then I’m coming back.”

Prohibition Bakery, 9 Clinton St.; 646-596-8294