|image from Childhood Flames|
The cakes were treated like precious jewels and we were only allowed to take one kind home for free as it spoiled overnight, the boccone dolce. I took home a container jam-packed with this cake constantly. I cannot tell you how much whipped cream I consumed during those strange months. Yes, I can. SO MUCH WHIPPED CREAM. I also had the special task of carrying a bucket of freshly whipped cream from the bakery down to the restaurant in the morning, where a huge glob went directly into my coffee. It was an easy and pleasant job, but I can create stress anywhere. The most anxiety-producing activity was carrying the cakes up and down the rickety bakery stairs to the restaurant. I only dropped one. It was a boccone dolce.