Image - Nicole Hill Gerulat
I ordered Max’s birthday cake last Tuesday. In the days before, I flicked through a few cook books, like the old classic ‘Womens Weekly Children’s Cake’ book (circa 1980), and a more current Donna Hay version. But, I decided not to attempt one of my own. I think it’s because I could see into the future, and how the baking event would play out. I would shop for the ingredients, measure them out exactly, following instructions to a T. All would be looking good until it came out of the oven, and it would be one of: A – burnt, B – sunken & hideous, C – dry and stuck in the tin or even possibly D – all of the above.
Trying again, this time considerably more flustered than the last, so not following instructions as well, the result would be even less perfect. I would then call my mum crying saying the cake was a disaster & the party was off. Solving my problem, she would then be up until the wee hours of the morning baking my son’s first birthday cake. Note to self. Am not going to let this happen.
So, while Max was sleeping, I googled ‘kids birthday cake shops’ and tracked down what looked like the nicest cake place I could find. Her name is Maria from Lollipop Cakes & Cookies in Hawthorn. She has some of the most fabulous birthday cakes, ranging from animals to cars and castles. Plus, there wouldn’t be a tear in sight. So I called her and booked a time to choose his cake.
A few days later, Max & I knocked on the candy pink coloured door behind a row of shops. Walking up the stairs, past her kitchen, it smelt like freshly baked cookies and sugar. Yum. I had definitely made the right decision. She showed us her folio of cakes and they are truly spectacular. I won’t spoil the surprise and tell you what we chose, but I guarantee, you will love it. (I promise to post a picture after the party).
She explained that we could have one of a number of special flavours – fudge & cream, banana & chocolate, and vanilla with strawberries to name a few. Off she went, while Max and I waited patiently on her couch. Upon returning, she handed me a large platter of cake. And before I could even stop him, Max saw that plate, leaped over me like a tiger, grabbed the biggest bit and stuffed the whole thing in his mouth! “No Max!” I shrieked, as slobbery cake tumbled from his mouth onto her white couch.
Maria was so good about it. She could have given me a hard time, rushing off to get a cloth and looking annoyed. But instead, she simply laughed saying that her mum had told her not to buy white couches in a cake shop.
“Well, I think he has chosen the banana & chocolate cake then!” We had to laugh.