A Homemade Surprise

I have been spending the holidays with my cousins in Milan. Each day I wake up around 10 or 11 a.m. I sit by the fire to drink my morning cappuccino that my cousin Nuccia has prepared for me, think about taking a shower and after an hour I eventually follow through on my thought. Today things were different. She and her daughter Veronica were gathered in the kitchen when I woke up. As I approached the kitchen door, Veronica shut it and politely told me to stay out.

I figured something was up. So I went to take a shower. They were still toiling in the kitchen when I returned. I sat again by the warm fireplace. The glowing flames of the fire shrank and rose in a tempo that almost always puts me in a trance. I stared at it while I waited to be summoned. After about an hour they called me into the kitchen.

I walked in and found a homemade birthday cake iced with Nutella and decorated with my name and a birthday greeting written in English. Nuccia had made the cake from scratch while I was eating dinner at a relative’s home the night before. Veronica frosted and piped the chocolate greeting on the vanilla cake this morning.

I thought back, and the last time someone baked me a cake was too long ago for me to remember. I was touched that my cousin’s took the time to make me a cake and remembered my birthday.

Growing up, my birthday was lost among the Christmas and New Year celebrations. Usually most of my friends were out of town or busy with visitors. This year was different. I was shocked to receive so many phone calls from my Italian relatives. Not only because my birthday is usually forgotten but because I have only met some of them two or three times in my life.

Nuccia reminded me that in Milan there were a number of people who cared for me. She told me the ingredients she used to make the cake. The most important ingredient she placed in the batter was amore.