Today is my wife Julie’s birthday. I didn’t have time to make a cake. I asked my cousin Amy Dreher, a professional pastry chef (her husband Daniel was the guy who made the insanely delicious, Joel Robuchon-inspired pear tart the other night), if she could make a simple white cake with buttercream frosting for Julie.

Emphasis on “simple.”

This is what she just sent over:

Dipped my finger in the buttercream frosting just now, and I swear I saw colors that aren’t perceptible by normal human eyes.

Good grief, somebody, please put these talented chefs to work! In a kitchen! In St. Francisville, I mean, so I can eat their food regularly.

UPDATE: Well, that is one of the most barbaric things I have ever seen. She’s over there eating it with a spoon. From the cake itself, I mean. We’ve all had slices, but she won’t stop. “I can’t believe I actually know someone who can make something like this,” she says.

UPDATE.2: Julie said just now: “Living here, the phrase ‘an embarrassment of riches’ occurs to me all the time.” True, that.