Have you heard about these “Baby Cake” or “Gender Cake” parties? They’re a thing: A pregnant woman has her doctor write the baby’s gender and seal it in an envelope, which a bakery then uses to bake a cake that’s either pink or blue, under a layer of gender-neutral-colored fondant. When she cuts the cake at her baby shower (or random carb-loading party), she and her partner and everybody else learn the gender of her spawn-to-be. It’s a strange goyish shower-dessert trend to add to the “Hey, let’s eat our ultrasound photo” fad. “Let them eat baby,” as blogger Lizzie Skurnick so aptly put it.
What other predictive foodstuffs might we offer anxious, expecting Jewish parents?
Cut it open, and inside is an inscrutable medical insurance statement telling you what kind of internist your son will be.
ILLUSTRATIONS BY DAVID GOLDIN
Swirled into its fluorescent fuchsia deliciousness is an image in sour cream of exactly how slutty your daughter’s bat mitzvah party dress will be.
Poke it with your fork—it’s so much more succulent than your Great-Aunt Myra’s!—and it yelps out the name of the hypercompetitive preschool your child will be admitted to.
Depending on whether you first pick a pita triangle from the left or right side of the bowl, you determine whether your child will support AIPAC or J Street.
A cherry blintz means he’ll be a lawyer. A cheese blintz means he’ll be an accountant.
The number of poppy seeds predicts the cost of your daughter’s wedding.