Growing up, I was always the weird kid at birthday parties because I never ate the cake. You know the cakes I'm talking about: the flat, white, rectangular sheet cakes, smooth as a just-made bed, edged with lacy scallops and decorated with bright bunches of balloons or one-legged flamingoes. The cakes were bought from the closest supermarket bakery, and inevitably one of the kids would suggest that, on the count of three, we each stuff a whole piece into our mouths, triggering a... More >>>