have some cake

I love birthday cakes. Though there are dry, unpalatable cardboard blocks that bakeshops make and try to pass off as cake, I forgive them, because birthday cakes always look so pretty. And there's something magical about making a wish on them that more than makes up for the abominable taste. Birthday cakes are designed for the purpose of bringing joy to the celebrant. They invoke sweet memories of childhood that slides past one's tongue and leaves a soul-soothing flavor.

I love Christmas cakes, too. I think I'm one of the dying breed of people who still looks forward to getting fruitcake in December. No one from my side of the family, nor from my husband's, is inclined to uphold this tradition so I have to resort to mooching off friends who absolutely hate fruitcake. By far, my favorite is the Christmas cake my sister-in-law sends from Germany. It's a loaf riddled with glazed fruits and big chunks of walnuts, has a soft, sticky, gooey center and is dusted liberally with powdered sugar--- snow on a loaf of bread, the perfect Christmas treat.

I also love cake that my best friend and I stuff our faces with when one of us is feeling a bit depressed. Sharing a raspberry cheesecake--- our drug of choice--- is a joy doubled and a sorrow halved.

I loooove cake. And cake is perfect with ice cream, but don't get me started on that...