Day 78: Let Them Eat Cake

I'm going to bake L a birthday cake today, even though his 15th birthday was almost three weeks ago. All the other kids were away on his actual birthday and only D and me singing "Happy Birthday" slightly off-key would have been too depressing. So today's the day.

I always ask the birthday child what kind of cake he or she wants, but only once did the answer vary from the emphatic “angel food cake with chocolate frosting”. That was when A requested a lemon meringue pie; I'm guessing the rest of her siblings mutinied, especially once they tasted the crust. Making a good pie crust is something to add to my bucket list.

When my mom died my brothers and sisters and I went into her home and took turns choosing one possession at a time. I remember thinking how sad that moment was -- that we were divvying up her life and carting it off in pieces. The only large item I was interested in was the love seat, technically a Victorian chair and a half, which originally belonged to my great-grandmother. I spent my childhood curled up in it, horsehair poking my legs through the worn teal-colored velvet, reading from the pile of library books stacked by its side. Now reupholstered in a bold velvet stripe, the love seat is the main stage for our birthday celebrations: the gifts are stacked on it, the birthday child sits for a photo and then attacks the presents with gusto. J's favorite is always a box of Captain Crunch. L would love nothing more than a box of Pop’ems. Children after my own heart.

Two of the smaller items I took from my mom’s house are the tube pan she used to make angel food cake (yup, that's the birthday cake I always had, and D, too – a match made in cake heaven) and the dented and dinged metal dome that protected whatever cake remained after the initial attack. Luckily they’re not breakable like the green vase. Perhaps someday my grandchildren will blow out their birthday candles on an angel food cake that their mom or dad has baked in that pan. Maybe they’ll open their gifts on the love seat. I really, really hope I’m around to be a part of those celebrations. I adore angel food cake.

But back to the present. Somehow the tradition got started that no one is allowed to have a bite of cake until the birthday person has taken the first one; you can imagine the kinds of long, drawn-out pauses and false starts that the birthday person enjoys. Also, once everyone has had a slice or two, the rest of the cake belongs to the honoree, and only he or she can dole it out. How did I allow such a greedy and selfish tradition to start? Who started it? Was it me, who was born in the Chinese Year of the Pig? Anyway, H was hugely bummed that she left for camp just a day after her birthday celebration this year and therefore didn't have control of the remains of the cake. I ate it.

I experimented with a new cake at Christmas this year. It was a devil’s food layer cake with peppermint frosting that was on the cover of the December issue of Bon Appetit. Do not waste your entire day concocting that foul dessert. The frosting tastes just like Crest. Even fondant would taste better.

This all gets me thinking about my 50th birthday cake. I’m not yet sure how I want to celebrate that day, or where, but I do know what kind of cake I’m going to have. And who’s going to get the first and last bites.