Cakemasters

Should I go on Facebook now?

Do I really need to start stalking at 7 a.m?  Every morning I ask myself this.  It’s rather early to become so fixated on the goings-on of everyone and everything around me, when there are still 15 hours or more before bedtime that I could be doing this.  

But, I wouldn’t want to miss anything, that’s for sure.

One day last week, I succumbed to my weakness maybe even earlier than 7, and the very first post caught my eye.  It was from one of my favorite Philly groups: “We grew up in West or East Oak Lane in the 40s, 50s and 60s.”

Usually the pictures I relate to are of the “C” or “Y” buses that I took to get to school as well as old advertisements for family-favorite restaurants like the Open Hearth, or for row or twin homes that sold way back when for under $12,000.   

But this picture was of a store name that stood tall among the others on Ogontz Avenue, called Cakemasters. 

And just like that, I felt like the little girl who, some 50 years before, would delight with anticipation at just seeing the big white box, tied securely with cord, as it made its way onto our kitchen table. 

My mom would wrestle with the cord for a few seconds…excitement mounting…until the box opened and then there it was, in all its glory…the Cakemasters Button Cake.   

Whether that’s the official name or the Cohen term of endearment for it, there was nothing better than this dessert.  It was a round cake with pinkish icing on the top and middle, coated with chocolate jimmies along the side, and the very best part – the top - consisted of 10-12 edible chocolate fudge “buttons,” spaced like a clock.

I acted on my urge to google Cakemasters just in case I could relive this childhood experience from a local bakery.  I have no shame; I’d have gone that day to get one.    

The only location I could find was called Cakemasters Bakery II, and it was in Florida.  From the description I read on their Facebook page, the owners were third and fourth generation bakers starting from the great grandfather who opened a bakery in Philadelphia.  I decided this must be the man who created the button cake, so I sent a note to ask if the Florida bakers are from Philly and whether they have button cakes.  I described the cake, just in case they weren’t familiar with the name, and told them how much I enjoyed it growing up.   

The owner wrote back to say her grandfather owned a bakery in Philly, but she wasn’t sure of the name or where exactly it was.  Even though I didn’t get concrete info about the original Cakemasters and she didn’t comment on the button cake, I felt like we could’ve been long lost relatives, trying to piece together a past with a timeline but without the people around to confirm it.  I also felt sad that she didn’t seem to know much about her grandfather and his creations, given that he started the family legacy.        

I then decided it might be fun to text my siblings to ask if they remembered the button cakes from Cakemasters.  I thought I could have to wait hours or a day to hear back but, 5 minutes later, they had all checked in.

They responded with “loved them!” which made me very happy that we finally all shared a memory in almost exactly the same way, which is rare.

My elephant memory brother recalled that my sister loved the buttons and that once or twice we had asked the bakery to add extra buttons for her.

I didn’t remember wanting extra buttons, just my fair share; my memory centers around my 4^th kid complex, once again…and declaring, when it was my turn to get a slice of the cake, “I want a whole button.”

There was only one worthy last bite:  the button, surrounded by an inch of icing on either side.  I knew if I didn’t speak up, I may not have gotten it.

The elephant brother also remembers discussion on the slicing of the cake and the adjustment our mom made so that no one’s portion – he didn’t name me – contained a partial button or was void of a button. 

That’s probably because I made a stink about it.

Unlike with the tea bag.