Maybe it’s because I’m approaching a somewhat noteworthy age, but I choose to believe that perhaps the most significant of all my birthdays was my fifth. Why? My fifth birthday marked the day that my obsession with food (and food as an artform) was born when my mother gave me my first cookbook.
I was in the kitchen, watching my mother fuss with something in a drawer, when she gave me a copy of Betty Crocker’s Cookbook for Boys and Girls.
“Go sit at the table and look through the pictures,” she said. “Figure out what kind of cake you want for your birthday. Draw it for me.” I took to the challenge right away. I sped to the kitchen table, grabbed paper and wax crayons, and went to work. In between pages of subtle advertising, black print, and Gloria Kamen’s clever illustrations, I found vibrant color photos of party foods and ornate party cakes.
Even then I was a fool for clever food styling.
