We absolutely love Porto's Bakery. Our local newspaper ran an article about it today. "Read all about it", as the corner newsboys used to shout.
When we moved to the Manor, my plan was to celebrate the birthdays of friends by inviting them to our new abode and serving them a piece of a Porto's cake, then sending them home with the leftovers, after I, myself, had a piece. That worked for a little while and then as so often happens in my experience, the tradition faded into the background. Perhaps I should reinstitute the practice.
Admittedly, it's a sneaky way to eat my cake, just one piece at a time. When I have forbidden food in the house, no matter how well I hide it, there's a quality of "The Tell-Tale Heart" about it, as its presence throbs in a nearly audible manner.
It's a simple matter to order by telephone, with barely any wait at the counter considering how busy this successful place is. Right then and there, whoever is waiting on me writes the personalized greeting on the cake, I pays my monies and am on my way.
People come from miles away to visit this place and the positive energy within the bakery is a marvel to experience. I've never seen a squabble or heard a cross word, even though in the regular line the wait can be long. I pass the time by visiting with the person next to me and asking how far they've traveled to get there and what their favorite item is.
Another month will pass before I celebrate my own birthday, but I'm getting in the mood to sin. A doctor I saw recently advised "If it tastes good, spit it out." Not on that day, I won't.