This is the last piece of lemon cake.
I made it a week ago for friends, put it on a cake plate and displayed it dusted with powdered sugar. We ate pieces drizzled with lemon glaze and berries and cream and coffee. It was a happy evening. Only half a cake was left at the end.
It sat, under the glass dome all week, slowly piece by piece slivered away. Maia and I ate it while we planned a mystery dinner she wants to do with her grandmother, while we watched “Smash,” while I obsessed over the best prices for our family vacation.
All week it’s made me happy looking at that lemon cake, so yellow, so elegant, so tasty. Yes, I am one of those. Food makes me happy. Not in large quantities, but in succulent servings. Flavor enjoyed in suspended moments of pleasure.
The sight of a lemon cake waiting, drenched, soaking in the sweet tanginess of lemon glaze -- how could I not be happy?
The last piece of lemon cake. I ate it today.