Yesterday, I turned 26 and I made myself a birthday cake.  Whoever says you can’t have your cake and eat it too is seriously mistaken.

I made banana cake filled with a layer of chocolate espresso ganache, frosted with caramel bourbon buttercream and topped with candied salted peanuts.  It was delicious.  Too bad everyday can’t be my birthday.

This slice of cake was saved for my nephew, Paolo

As a child, I couldn’t wait for my birthday to come.  I’d start a countdown as soon as school closed for summer break.  I’d write little post-it notes for my parents and leave them all over the house, hinting at presents I’d like or reminding them to buy my cake, balloons, etc.  I looked forward to birthday parties and being center of attention (and being allowed to be a little brat).

I still love birthdays but I no longer need the big parties or the table overflowing with presents. Guh, does this mean I’m growing up?  (30 is just around the corner)

25 was a great year and I can only imagine what 26 has in store for me.  I look forward to the big things coming my way.