My mother made a strawberry sponge cake for my 1st birthday. We have a photo of me reaching out to touch it. The next year, she made another one for my second birthday, and then every year from then on, that was my birthday cake. A sponge cake, topped with cream and strawberries. She even managed to make one for my 16th birthday, when we were camping up the Coromandel. Even now, if by chance we happen to be home at my parents’ place on my birthday, she makes a strawberry sponge cake for me. From scratch – no supermarket sponges or cake mixtures. Not that such things were readily available in Whangamomona when I was a child. Or even now, I suspect.
Yesterday, we celebrated my birthday at our own home. And my lovely Ms Fourteen made a strawberry sponge cake for me.
(Description: square sponge cake, sitting on a board, topped with strawberries and cream, with one candle burning bravely)
This made me very, very happy.