“I was born in a log cabin…”

As mentioned, petits fours have a long and distinguished history in the Pastry family, and are the subject of numerous family anecdotes. None however are more revealing the one about yours truly when I was a mere cupcake, somewhere in the neighborhood of two years old. Seems one night I managed a break-out from my crib and toddled over into the parents bedroom, where Mr. & Mrs. Joe Pastry Sr. were distracted watching television, the Christmas box of petits fours by their side. As the story goes, young Mr. Me seized the opportunity to snap up one of the cakes and stuff it wholesale into my mouth. There was of course momentary panic when the Pastry parents suddenly turned to see me red-faced and struggling with a titanic mouthful. However in time I managed to get every last crumb of it down, happily without choking to death. The experience taught the parents two things. First, to always keep the dang petit fours out of reach of the kids. But second and more importantly, that they were raising a son willing to risk all for the sweet taste of cake.

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