Let Them Eat Cake!

This is Grace, my goddaughter and niece, our little dreamer girl who's been stealing hearts since day one. I don't know anyone who loves sugar more than Grace. If the amount of sugar consumed had a direct effect on the sweetness of the soul, Grace is proof in the pudding. She is one of the most loving, gracious people I know, big or small.

This week, Graced turned ten, and to celebrate the occasion, my mom made her famous chocolate cake, icing it in careless peeks and swirls as a band of little people (my best friends' kiddos) circled her kitchen in mischievous play. Watching mom carry the cake to Grace's spot at the head of the table, I remembered all the birthdays mom loved on me with that cake, and just how special it felt to sit in front of her layers crowned with glowing candle glory, and know the taste of what was to come -- love, in hefty chocolate portions. So despite my decade-long efforts to interest Grace in all things green and good-for-you, on her birthday, I wanted nothing more than to watch her enjoying her cake, and study the sweet mouths of the  little ones around the table (including Greta) when they got a taste of it too.

After all the years I've spent working with kids and nutrition, how do I feel about sweets for kids? Fill their bellies with wholesome foods each and every day. And on the most special of occasions ~ let them eat cake!

Happy Birthday, Gracie baby.

xo
Sarah

I Was Told There'd Be Garlic Scapes

Have you read Sloane Crosley's book, I Was Told There'd Be Cake? If you haven't, you might want to. It's hilarious. I think if someone could channel her humor into writing about gardening or cooking, it could be really funny. But I don't think I'm that person. Gardening makes me feel like Pollyana or Donna Reed. It makes me giddy and gay {in the 1960s way}, and feel like running home to cook something nurturing and scrumptious for my husband.

I'm the kind of girl Sloane would probably hate, or at least write a funny essay about, which is too bad, because I think I'd like to be her friend.

My friend Carrie, who is probably Sloane's neighbor on the Upper West Side and the one who gave me Sloane's book, is a much more likely candidate. She has blazing red hair and wears pink books and drove the weiner mobile and rides on the back of her boyfriend's 1970s BMW bike and plays the guitar. She doesn't even know what garlic scapes are, and I bet Sloane would love that. Sigh.