I have a thing for Funfetti. The bright colored sprinkles that melt in your cake so when you slice into it it looks like fireworks. Or sparkles. YES! I love the colorful sparkles for the inside of my cake. But it was forbidden…
You might already be laughing. You should. This is a ridiculous story of family of origin traditions, forbidden love, and cake.
And I’m not sure how far back to go...
Do I take you all the way back to Stone Mountain, Georgia and my sister Rebecca’s My Little Pony Cake? The thing of legend my mother created with no guides or mold cake pans? Just a perfect 3-D replica of a tower made by her cutting and stacking plain 13x9 sheet cakes? Legend…wait for it… dary.
Do I take you to Naples, Florida where year after year my mother baked perfect white cakes with made from scratch buttercream frosting that still makes my mouth water and my teeth hurt at the same time? The woman always had a high bar, but this one strangely meant no egg yolks in the batter. Period.
Do I take you to Ft Myers, Florida when I begged my mother for Funfetti inside my wedding cake? Pink plaid bridesmaids’ dresses? No problem. Opera singers and string quartet playing? Check. Pink plaid fondant allowed on the outside of the cake to match before mentioned dresses of insanity. Of course. But she drew the line at Funfetti inside. NO.
Somewhere between Stone Mountain and Fort Myers, I had fallen in love with the one cake she wouldn’t make. More accurately. The one cake mix my mother wouldn’t buy.
Funfetti? More like Fun-forbidden!
But the worst anyone can tell you is no, right?
So I asked again. Last month. In Lake View, Alabama. This year we would all be together, on the lake, at my brother’s home.
I asked her on a phone call weeks in advance. Would you make the cake for Saturday night? Yes! Funfetti? NO!
My goodness! I am turning 41! Why on earth not? Because she said so.
Now, I am childish enough to be annoyed, AND adult enough to not let the kind of cake ruin any moments I have with family, so I laughed it off.
But something unexpected happened…
When my mother brought a gorgeous two layer cake, covered in pink flowers… and she admitted to me, the small top layer was FUNFETTI – I felt… betrayed? Now, I should have felt elated! Finally! She made me the cake I loved!
But it also felt wrong. She had a standard! Granted, it was one I never understood, but it was reliable. Now, I was confused.
It felt, weird, to have the Funfetti layer… And when I went back for seconds, I chose that perfect white cake layer instead. The anchor of stability underneath that unfamiliar layer full of sprinkles tasted as she had always intended: full of love.
I know I am her favorite. No cake could tell me otherwise.
And no matter what kind of cake is your family's favorite, I would love to celebrate the love behind it all with you.
with joy,
Kat
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