There's video footage of my 10th birthday where I'm wearing, like, a little pink T-shirt. Then my dad comes in brandishing a copy of 'Eraserhead,' going, 'Look what we've got for tonight!'
That's the great thing about New Year's, you get to be a year older. For me, that wasn't such a joke, because my birthday was always around this time. When I was a kid, my father used to tell me that everybody was celebrating my birthday. That's what the trees are all about.
I have always told my family that I don't want my birthday to be celebrated and that they shouldn't get me anything, even though if they didn't I'd probably write a standup routine about it.
When I was 13, my parents bought me a mini snooker set for my birthday. From the moment I first held a cue in my hands, I was transfixed.
My mother's face floated to mind, a pale, reproachful moon, at her last and first visit to the asylum since my twentieth birthday. A daughter in an asylum! I had done that to her. Still, she had obviously decided to forgive me.
If I could be doing anything, I'd be laying on the floor in my birthday suit eating junk food and watching something dumb on TV.
Everyone who reaches a milestone birthday in their lives has an opportunity to truly appreciate the fact that presumably we have acquired all the gifts that maturity and age can bring us.
The first glimpse I had of what Mario Batali's friends had described to me as the 'myth of Mario' was on a cold Saturday night in January 2002, when I invited him to a birthday dinner.
I grew up going to bakeries in Tel Aviv; that's where we got our birthday cakes, they were always European baking and butter creams. We have such good baking in Israel, and we have the Diaspora of Jews from all over, and we learned early on to adapt and absorb flavors from all over.