It’s my birthday, it’s my birthday, it’s my birthday


So when you’ve written a book about cake—when you’ve baked a few yourself, had them declared delicious, had men kneel before you and women kiss your hand after partaking of your confection—who bakes your cake? Who makes the best, to-die-for cake?

That’s what they ask me.

I’m not quite a kid at heart, but when it comes to my birthday, I want it to taste like childhood. I want a break from my strict avoidance of hydrogenated oils and high-fructose corn syrup.

So if you’re asking me for a recommendation, I’d tell you to go to your neighborhood bakery, the one up the road, where the line forms on Saturday mornings and Sundays after church. If I need an unfancy cake that tastes delicious, that’s where I go. For a fancy one that tastes delicious, I call Patisserie Poupon. (Ask for the Grand Marnier cake. Mmm.)

But if you’re asking me what cake I’m eating right now, right this very minute, I am not ashamed to tell you that I picked one up for $15 at Safeway a little while ago. I might be 4[inaudible mumbling], but I want it to taste like seven.

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