Let them eat cake

Nothing like a good cake for my anniversary. When Mark and Alexis made their holiday visit, Alexis rose early Sunday to make the apple cheese cake I like. When only two pieces wee left, I declared that because the cheese cake had been made for our anniversary, the last two pieces were mine and hubby’s.
The day before our anniversary, we realized if Mert was ever going to visit with some friends before we went back to college, it would have to be the next day. They accepted on the invitation and I planned a quick, easy meal. On the way home from the work, I stopped to pick up a couple of things I needed.
I didn’t need the decorated cake from the bakery, but it was my 25h anniversary and I needed a dessert. I had one decorated with Happy Anniversary, took it home and told my husband it was his greeting card for the day.
I was sautéing the onions and celery for the main course when the phone rang. “I have fixed a pineapple-upside-down cake I will bring for dessert.” I looked at the plain, white, vanilla frosted cake. Pineapple-upside-down cake, hmm. I like pineapple cake a whole lot more than plain vanilla. We would eat the decorated cake later.
The next afternoon, my husband and I packed to go to a bed and breakfast in Vicksburg for our 25th wedding anniversary trip. Before we left, we waited on delivery of the meal hubby had ordered for the children. It included a strawberry cake. I like strawberry anything. Only because we planned to eat later did I resist taking a taste. (Half of it was left when we came home.)
The restaurant my husband chose for our celebration was so good that they lit the place only with candles. The three, college-aged men who came to our table each introduced themselves and said, “I am your servant for the evening.”
Three courses later, one of my servants placed a chilled martini glass in front of me with a ping-pong sized ball of something that looked like whipped butter shaped in a ball.
I looked at the servant quizzically, “And this is butter?”
“No, it is sorbet to cleanse the palate.”
It still looked like butter in that dim light, but it definitely tasted like sorbet as it cleansed the palette prior to the main course.
After the main course of trout almondine, a servant asked, “And would you care for any dessert?”
I was about to order the New York cheese cake, when my husband said, “We have Italian cream cake that I special ordered.”
Italian cream cake? My favorite? All right!
Two servants brought in a four-layer, Italian cream cake with candles, wedding bells, doves and a silver cake server.
I only had room for one and a half pieces, but it was, as always, delicious.
We took the rest home. I cut the cake into individual servings, wrapped each piece and placed them in the freezer beside the left-over strawberry and vanilla cake.
I am gonna have my cake and eat it, too – for a very long time.


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