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When your children are growing up, if you’re a baker (and sometimes even if you’re not), you bake a cake for their birthdays. I wonder if that’s still true? Most of the time my kids’ parties were simple affairs—celebratory and fun, to be sure–but sort of cake and ice cream parties for a bunch of their buddies or maybe even just the family and neighbors.
(below: Sean, a marvelous cook, making his world-renowned pizza–one of my frequent requests. He’s also a fine brewer. Nice combination, huh?)
As they grew, and our budget expanded, we might have extended the celebration a bit to include supper out (pizza) or to have a sleepover with pizza ordered in. But the cake remained. Mom made the cake. And it wasn’t always a cake, per se.
Sometimes there was a request for pie, cupcakes, or even for lemon bars. My famous brownies came up on the list. Actually, they still do. At one time, I taught myself to decorate cakes; I couldn’t afford the class. My cakes always tasted better than they were decorated, but at least I could get someone’s name written and a border piped. I did learn — somewhat — to draw on cakes and that’s incredible since I can’t draw at all. A carrot that looks like a carrot still appears on my carrot cake. Leaves show up come fall and so on. And my friends all know I’m good for a birthday sweet if they only say the word or tell me what they want. I just like to have an excuse to bake.
(right, above and below: Sean, the dog whisperer)