Last week, while entering the 110 freeway from the Hill Street on-ramp, I ate my first car cake. I did not get crumbs in the stitching of my leather seats. I did not smear frosting on the steering ...

I lived with my grandparents for a year after high school and I loved walking in the door and seeing a cake pan cooling on the counter. I would cut myself a square and relish the simple dessert. It ...