My birthday is just around the corner. I’m actually rather relieved to be older (goodbye youthful angst, hello tenant insurance and phone bills), though there are panicked moments of existential turmoil (“Oh gawd, what am I doing with my life???”). But really, it’s just another day.
And, there’s cake.
Someone once told me that it’s bad luck to make your own birthday cake, and maybe it was just a delicate way of saying it’s kind of pathetic, but I don’t care, a party for one is fine by me. I’ve always strongly believed that cooking for yourself is very important as a potent form of self-love, and if one’s birthday is about me me me…
I’ve also had a hankering to make Nigel Slater’s chocolate beetroot cake from his book Tender (hm, I appear to have a penchant for food writers whose names include “Nigel” in it, see the Chocolate Gingerbread for evidence).
Anyhow, it turned out great. I had it with some ricotta schmeared on top, and the graininess of the cheese was a nice compliment to the moist, velvety cake.
Another year. We’ll see what happens next.