This weekend my family and I celebrated my awesome dad's 77th birthday. (Due to technical issues I did not post on his actual birthday this year.) I am so grateful to have him for another birthday. He's been dodging bullets for the past several years (as has been my mom).
Yesterday everyone came to my house for the party. My sister made a special point of bringing his very favorite cake- Italian cream. Actually, this cake is the only cake we ever had for birthdays growing up. A close friend of the family was a baker and every year my dad brought home an Italian cream cake- rum flavored and covered in tiny peanut bits.
I never cared for it all that much.
But don't get me wrong. I ate it. Duh! It was CAKE, after all. My favorite memory was the year my dad had "Uncle Joe" put Beatles figurines on the top for me. I wish I had saved them. But to tell you the truth, as an adult I'm not much of a cake person. I like carrot cake and ice cream cake a lot but that's the only kind I really go crazy over. I don't care much for cupcakes either. I just don't feel like wasting the calories on something I don't really like. It's too hard to work it off.
Anyway, so yesterday my sister brought this beautiful cake from an Italian bakery outside of Philly called Testa's:
It was a work of art.
Needless to say, my dad was pleased as punch.
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