Cakes are interesting. I mean, check out these pictures and how people relate to cakes. Cakes are for special occasions. Cakes are limited and finite. Cakes are confectionary and infectious. Cakes are frustrating and frosting. My mother was big into cakes when I was small-- every year there was a new cake tin, personalized to my experience as a 6/7/8/9/10... year old. And always this thick yellow cake with simple frosting squeezed through a plastic bag into temporary and elaborate artistry. Interestingly, I learned later that my mom hated this kind of cake-- her palette demanded fancier jam-layered and fruit infused cakes which made my father defensively clutch his wallet and my brothers and I dramatically clutch our throats in disgust. I like cakes because they are so temporary and personal. They hardly last longer than the moment they are made for, which seems to me a powerful indicator of a moment well spent-- without regret and with a full stomach.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
cakes
Cakes are interesting. I mean, check out these pictures and how people relate to cakes. Cakes are for special occasions. Cakes are limited and finite. Cakes are confectionary and infectious. Cakes are frustrating and frosting. My mother was big into cakes when I was small-- every year there was a new cake tin, personalized to my experience as a 6/7/8/9/10... year old. And always this thick yellow cake with simple frosting squeezed through a plastic bag into temporary and elaborate artistry. Interestingly, I learned later that my mom hated this kind of cake-- her palette demanded fancier jam-layered and fruit infused cakes which made my father defensively clutch his wallet and my brothers and I dramatically clutch our throats in disgust. I like cakes because they are so temporary and personal. They hardly last longer than the moment they are made for, which seems to me a powerful indicator of a moment well spent-- without regret and with a full stomach.
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