Jean ordered me a cake from a cakeshop in the 5th. She asked that I pick it up the day before but I got lazy. Besides, I figured, I could pick it up after e-golf. All throughout lunch I kept checking the time, I didn't want to arrive to find the place closed. I wanted to drop my clubs off at home first, but I didn't want to risk it. When I walked into the front door, the woman took one look at me and said "I know exactly which cake you're here to pick up."
Best of all, they couldn't completely close the box that the cake was packed in or the golf ball would've been crushed. They packed it so the top of the cake was peeking out. There I was, on the subway with my golf clubs slung over one shoulder and a golf cake in one hand. I brightened up an otherwise dull ride for so many. They stared, looking at the cake, then the clubs, then the cake. "Perhaps he's going to a golf party?" I imagined them saying.
3 comments:
That's a really tasty-looking cake! I wonder how many PNB and chocolate cakes that bakery makes in a year. Do Parisians like PNB?
@Sal - it was pretty good. The bakery is an American one, run by three women from the US. You can buy peanut butter in the supermarket but usually there are only about 4 jars of one brand in one section of the "foreigner" aisle.
Shades of the grocery stores in Aberystwyth when we tried to buy Italian food there in 1979. We had to shop at the Import Grocery store.
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