This week was my younger sister Clarissa’s birthday party, which could mean only two things: cake and champagne. We decided to organise a last-minute birthday party, and having delegated who was to be in charge of what, it fell to me to be on birthday cake duty.
Without a second thought I took myself along to my favourite cake shop in London: Patisserie Valerie, which is situated right in the heart of Soho. Patisserie Valerie is both a café and a cake shop. Wooden panelling and small tables give it a very individual character, and the atmosphere is always busy and lively in a somewhat continental way.
As the queue was long I decided to pick up a paper and grab a quiet coffee to make the most of the atmosphere. I tried to concentrate on my newspaper but the world around me seemed to be engaged in mobile telephone conversations, and I began to wonder whether a ban on mobiles might be required, rather like we have smoking and non-smoking designated areas.
Funnily enough the next article I saw in my paper raised exactly this point. It was about a New York commuter (a 41-year-old Mr Gallart) whose mobile fell into the toilet on the 6.19am train out of Grand Central.
In his desperate attempt to retrieve the phone, he delved into the stainless steel bowl a little too deeply and his arm got stuck. The ensuing rescue operation involved the fire department, thousands of inconvenienced commuters, and thousands of dollars lost to the railway.
As for the phone, apparently it was never found.
Anyway, I chose the birthday cake for Clarissa: milk chocolate with white chocolate shavings covering it and a circle of strawberries on the top. Absolutely stunning, to the point that it almost seemed a shame (almost …) to destroy such a beautiful display.
When it had all been boxed up with a ribbon and ready to go, my pocket buzzed with a text message: ‘Running late with preparations …’
It was from the birthday girl, which gave me time to find birthday candles (which I got from a corner shop — how do people survive without corner shops?) and to buy her some flowers from Phillo, my favourite florists in Notting Hill. Pink roses, of course.
When I was armed with the cake and a huge bunch of flowers it began to rain, so I hailed a cab to take to my sister’s house in West Hampstead where the party was due to start soon. The cab pulled up sharply by my side, making that wonderfully comforting purring sound that only London black cabs can make, and I was welcomed inside with an “All right, love?”. I told him about my day, he told me about his, and soon we were at Clarissa’s front door.
It was only 4pm, but already the light was fading. So we lit some candles (scented of course) around the dining room and had some food. Stevie Wonder was singing in the background and once everybody finally arrived it was cake time.
I found the birthday candles and quickly arranged them. Then we all sang ‘Happy Birthday’ with gusto, and finally got to have our cake and eat it. We raised our champagne glasses in as toast. The cake was, in a word, divine!
Laia Farran Graves
Phillo Flowers 020-7727-4555
Patisserie Valerie 020-7437-3466
