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.