Butterflies in December

This morning, dogwithnobrain's blip for yesterday had me reminiscing about the one and only time I was given a party as a child - I think probably for my eighth birthday. My mother hired the services of a cook who had worked for the local toffs at "the Big House", and she took over the kitchen. I remember the table being covered with mess and my mum, bent over the sink with a grim expression, washing up after the cook who was probably used to having scullery maids at her beck and call.

All sorts of sickly delights were produced, I have no doubt, but the only thing that remained in my memory were the butterfly cakes: little cup cakes with the top sliced off and divided into two wedges that were stuck back on with buttercream icing to create the effect of wings. I don't think I have had or even seen them since but today, when I popped into the baker's for some fresh yeast, there was a tray of them sitting on top the glass cake cabinet! They had cherries on as well, an elaboration that we didn't run to.

The woman serving in the shop said she had one every day, they were so good, and now I think that when the Christmas cake is finished I might even try them again.

(As for my birthday party, my only remaining memory is that I was eventually removed for getting too excited and out of hand.)