“A party without a cake is just a meeting” – Julia Child.

My Mother had a well-documented sweet tooth and had never met a dessert that she didn’t like. Needless to say, some delicious delicacy always finished off our childhood suppers. Whether it be cinnamon pudding, butterscotch pie, apple crisp, or clove cake, it would quickly be sliced into eight, served, and devoured. Even after we were grown and out of the house, it was still an expectation that a meal enjoyed with her would also be accompanied by a sweet. We were spoiled.

Mom passed away 6 years ago, and at the time, I thought her art for the dessert was also lost. I actively lobbied my sisters for them to learn the skill but was met with resistance, finally giving up and resigning myself to the fact that those taste buds had seen their day and would lay in dormancy until some future life. I would have taken up the torch myself, but I thought they, with children, should do this while I enjoyed hitting the bars with friends.

This is when it happened: Out of nowhere came my sweet savior in the form of a brother! It’s sexist of me not even to have considered this, but here we were, a man well-known for his exquisite art had taken on the task of ensuring Mom’s legacy would live on. This should have been no surprise, considering his eye for detail and composition lend themselves nicely to the world of a master baker. The dessert was back, just in bearded form.

Recently, said brother has been trying to visit, and with each occasion came the promise of pizza and a dessert. I began to salivate immediately. Being on a special diet meant I was not allowing such food in the house unless brought by an outside source, and here it was. The offer had arrived. The challenge is that we live 1.5 hours apart, and during winter, the route is quite unpredictable, causing short-notice cancellations of his cherished being and the cargo he brought with him.  Today marks one of those cancellation days, and even though I am sad, I am more than happy that he is safe and trusting that his little gift has been placed in a secure spot, awaiting its next opportunity to hit the road.

Retirement will not see me learning this culinary skill but honing my taste buds to enjoy his output to the utmost whilst continuing to encourage his creativity. My motto is, “If I can’t do it, make sure there is someone close to me that can”! We will be geographically closer one day, but until then, I will look forward to springtime.