My mother took a cake decorating class when we lived in Georgia. I was 4 or 5 years old. She had a set of frosting tips -- so many of them, all different, in a plastic box that snapped shut. I took them out one by one and studied the shapes. Star. Circle. Daisy.
She leveled measuring cups with a butter knife. She let me sift the flour. I still enjoy the sound of tiny granules scraping against steel. Once, for my birthday, she made a cake shaped like Mickey Mouse.
Strange, the things that come back when you are in the kitchen. I baked again today, made my Thanksgiving batch of red velvet cupcakes. We are leaving tonight.
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