My best childhood memories seem to involve food.
I could remember that we, my siblings and I, always had cake during our birthdays. Always. And it was always made by Nanay. Made from scratch. We would pick the stuff that stuck to the sides of the cake pan and call dibs on the whisk and spatula used for the icing. Those were the spoils of the day!
Mind you we never had any elaborate birthday parties. It was just the usual fare and the usual people who came over any other day - neighbors and cousins (which is for some people, both). Except there's cake. Soft and fluffy, moist and yummy. Pineapple chiffon, orange, chocolate or mocha.
I don't remember me eating the cake really, but I vaguely remember making the first cut and then giving a plate with a slice of cake to whoever is near me and whoever Nanay told me to give it to. That's what I remember and their smiles. There's something magical when somebody gets a piece of cake. Their faces light up and its like a background of poppers and sprinkles happen and it happens as many times as you hand out a slice of cake.
Its been a part of my childhood and its something that I want to continue and share. I consider it as a privilege when I see somebody smile when they get a slice of cake or a cupcake.
I want to share that happiness ... in a cup.
