Miracles of the Cakes

I'm very excited that my friend got birthday orbs when I photographed her cake. Please, skeptics, let me have my fun, I'm really enjoying this orb, halo, number 13 diptych. The cake was photographed on June 13, and the sun halo on the 13th of May. I'll spare you my speil about the 13th this time, though, and just say it has to do with Our Lady of Fatima.

I used to think of cake miracles as those instances when something dropped or somebody jumped while the cake was baking and it didn't fall. Now I can add double purple orbs appearing on Friday the 13th to that list. But still, the list is far too short, I know there must be more magical cake anecdotes. Perhaps involving life long enemies who for some reason decide to bake cakes for each other and consequently become best friends.

One occurs in a Louise Erdrich book, when a nazi soldier kidnapped from an American internment camp by a group of Native Americans just back from duty saves his life by feeding his captors his homemade Linzer Torte. The alchemy of butter, sugar, ground almonds and fresh berries proves irresistible magic and the German becomes one of the tribe. In another book I'm reading now, a true story, a child (also German, coincidentally) who is terribly verbally abused by her mother only experiences maternal nurturing during the rites of baking.

There's considerable cake magic going on at the new location of Brooklyn Bread on 6th Ave and 5th St. My eyes were glued to the case as I enjoyed their playful approach to cake baking, for instance, you want a canoli cake? You must make a cake, and put a canoli on it. Because who can ever get enough canoli on a cake?