Now, in as much as it is true that I have never met a cake that I didn't like, it is even more truly stated that Birthday Cake in particular is my keenest adversary of ALL cakes. Perhaps it's the emotion one of these frothy, frosting layered confections evokes that makes it nearest and dearest to my heart as my own birthday was, again, a huge cause for celebration with all my Italian family in attendance laden with gifts. But, here again, it is the cake, that is the centerpiece of the festivity, an Italian Rum Cake slathered with whipped cream frosting, buttercream roses and slivered almonds garnishing the edges . . .a sight to behold . . .a splendor to the palate. I could eat, and have eaten when left alone with one, birthday cake all day long, one forkful at a time...of course, how else? I'd wake up in the middle of the night, get a fork and take a bite right off the cake from the box in the fridge. . .ahhh, heaven. Wake up in the morning . . .a forkful or two for breakfast . . . if I had to leave the cake for some reason, I'd take a couple bites before leaving the house . . .you get the idea. A birthday cake in my house never made it beyond the 24 hour mark. They call my name still, regardless of whose name is written upon them in celebration . . .traitors to their very purpose . . .and I, once their slave.