As I sat next to my Dad, a few minutes before he was going to be wheeled away, he reflected on the double chocolate cake I made earlier in the week and then went on to talk about the different sorts of German cake that he had eaten: my Oma’s Buttercreme Torte and Bienstich, a small cake covered with almond and butter glaze. He groaned remembering the taste of them when they warm.
“If I only had one food to eat for the rest of my life,” he said, “…I think it would be cake.” His eyes widened, even though they had sunk deeply into their cavities, and his voice grew a slight bit louder, “Do you know how many varieties of cake there are?”
Do I ever.
Posted by firewings 
