I went to the most fabulous party last night that ended, rather triumphantly, with me being crowned Queen for the day.
The fete was truly the last of the holiday season. Yes, the trees and lights are down, but according to the religious calendar there is still something left to celebrate: the arrival of the Three Kings. Epiphany is celebrated on the first Sunday after the first Saturday of the new year and honors the arrival of the three kings at baby Jesus' crib side.
The traditional French King's Cake is buttery golden, flaky and rich, and layered with almond paste. Embedded in one slice is a feve -- a tiny ceramic religious figurine. Whoever finds it is declared King (or Queen) for the day.
But there's more. Traditionally, the youngest child hides under the dining table while an adult cuts the cake. The child calls out who gets the next slice, and after all have a piece of cake, eating and feve finding commences.
But at this party the youngest (4.5 months) was unable to complete the task. So that left me -- me!-- the 32 year old baby of the group to crawl under the table and aid in the delivery of buttery galette slices.
Imagine my surprise when the feve was mine too. The only trouble was that the day was mostly done and this Queen didn't have much to dictate. Still, I'm hoping that the mere presence of my golden crown and my teeny tiny Virgin Mary feve signals hope and riches today and beyond.