If I were an Orthodox Christian, this post would be just about on time, but I’m not. And it isn’t. But, as I ask myself regularly, “who’s keeping score?”
With no children at home and Patrick on a chocolate-free kick, it was only the day before Easter that I pulled out the basket, hollow plastic eggs, and the vintage cake mold for our traditional Easter dessert.
What do you think of when I say “lamb cake”? I wouldn’t be surprised if you envision a meat-eater’s version of a crab cake – a patty made of ground meat. But what kind of dessert would that be?!?!
Nearly 60 years ago, when my newlywed parents lived in an old Boston neighborhood, my mother bought a metal cake mold from an Italian bakery. For every Easter since — from their walk-up apartment and our home in central Maine to my brother’s and my Boston-area homes — a lamb cake has been part of our celebrations.
Despite my best efforts at careful driving on the way to Luke and Mary’s, gravity and centrifugal force got the better of the cake. Fortunately, I’d placed a napkin on the car floor to serve as a potential landing pad. #notmyfirstrodeo
As usual at L&M’s, the food was superb and accompanying conversation lively, varied, and humorous (many belly laughs and at least one snort by yours truly).
At one point, the giant condensed Oxford Dictionary was hauled out and consulted, with magnifying glass assistance, by Kevin and Uncle Mike. I can’t remember what word they were looking up. Check the comments because a regular reader may recall.
Despite a few cosmetic flaws, the cake was quite tasty.
And the sunset was glorious.
Oh Happy Day indeed. (Go ahead: click and listen)