In Israel in the 1980s and 1990s, a special family ritual emerged. Before the birthdays, excited kids would flip page by page through Josie Mendelson’s book “Ugot Yom Huledet,” (“Birthday Cakes”) gazing at the vibrant pictures of marvelous cakes in the shapes of animals, cars, trucks, and dancers decorated with candy, marshmallows, and licorice sticks.
If a birthday party is the annual highlight of childhood, the cake reveal is the cherry on top — especially if it’s a special creation from the book. For many Israelis, this book holds a place in our collective memories, whether those memories are fond, frustrating, or unfulfilled.
It all started with a dinosaur
The book is originally from Australia where it is also a cult classic. In the 1970s, Pamela Clark, a senior food writer for the Australian Women’s Weekly magazine, was asked by her neighbors to make a dinosaur cake for their son’s birthday. A photo of it gained her attention in the office and ultimately, she was commissioned to write a birthday cake cookbook. Released in 1980, “The Australian Women’s Weekly Children’s Birthday Cake Book” became a sensation in Australia, selling over a million copies between its launch and its reissue in 2011. The dinosaur cake, however, was left on the editing floor.
It is remarkable how the Australian book continues to hold a central place in local culture even four decades after its publication. It’s referenced in stand-up comedy routines, featured in exhibitions, and most recently inspired an episode of the beloved Australian children’s series “Bluey.”’ The children’s cartoon series about a family of dogs has become a cultural phenomenon and through its 7-minute episodes, the show captures the poignant, humorous, and often challenging aspects of parenting. In this episode, Bluey’s younger sister, Bingo, selects a challenging duck cake from the book for her birthday. Their mother, reflecting on her previous year’s failed attempt at a clown cake, delegates the task to their father. He attempts to make it while trying to convince Bluey to clean up the mess he made in the living room. Despite a crisis and producing a flawed cake, Bingo is happy with the outcome.
Hello Naomi
In 1983, mendelsons book was published by Adam Publishing House. It included a mix of new creations and recipes from the original, some of which were adapted to better fit local culture. This is how the Dolly Varden cake became Natalie cake, a dancer cake called Ballerinas was changed to Naomi (after Mendelson’s daughter), and a doll cake called Mary-Jane became Ruthie. Other cakes were given more local names such as Parpar Nechmad (Nice Butterfly), PilPilon (Little Elephant), and Uncle Moses Had a Farm. The duck cake from the Bluey episode was not included in the Israeli version, presumably because of its complexity.
The book became an essential part of many Israeli homes in the 1980s and 1990s and judging from Facebook groups such as Mothers Cooking Together and Invested Mothers, it seems that even today, families continue to bake from the book.
Mendelson still finds the phenomenon surprising: “Even after 41 years, the stories just keep coming.”
Ofra Mash’al (64) from Petah Tikva says: “When my daughters were little, I made nearly every cake from the book. The cakes were really easy to make, and I played with the recipes. For example, I would replace the buttercream with whipped heavy cream dyed with food coloring.” Mash’al recently made a racetrack cake for her three-year-old grandson. “Raphael sat with me and flipped through the book and chose what he wanted,” she says. “The happiness really came from the fact that grandma made him a cake rather than the cake itself.”
Parents cooking together
Israel makes significant culinary leaps every decade. In 1975, eight years before the publication of the birthday cake book, “Meha’mitbach Be’ahava” (“Cooking with Love”) by Ruth Sirkis was released in Israel. It became the best-selling cookbook ever published in Hebrew, opening the minds and eyes of many Israelis to new foods and a new format of colorful and detailed cookbooks. However, “Cooking with Love” was still written with the feminine language, as was customary in cookbooks at the time, since it was assumed that women would be the exclusive readers (or nearly so).
“Birthday Cakes,” on the other hand, was written in surprisingly inclusive language for the early 1980s. It is written in the third person plural and in the introduction, directly addresses “a busy man who likes to get into the kitchen sometimes,” “a woman who has a full time job with overtime,” and “a very busy housewife.”
This inclusivity extended beyond just addressing mothers and fathers; it also embraced the target audience: kids. While the Australian book had chapters specifically for “boys” with spaceship cakes, pirates, and racing cars, and for “girls” with cakes shaped like sewing machines, dolls, stoves, and dressing tables, the Israeli version avoided forced gender roles. Instead, it allowed each child the freedom to choose their own dream cake.
The book was also innovative in the Israeli culinary scene in terms of concept. Although it was not the first cake book published in Israel — it was preceded by “Ugot Ve Ugiot” (“Cakes and Cookies”) by Hana Shaulov in 1974 and “Ugot Lekol Et” (“Cakes for All Occasions”) by Nira Shoyer in 1979 — it stood out. It wasn’t the first book intended for children either, with Sirkis’s “Yeladim Mevashlim” (“Kids Cooking”), which debuted in 1975. However, it was the first book dedicated entirely to fancy and complicated cakes for special occasions targeted at children. Like a secret door to a private fantasy world, it made birthdays a day when dreams come true, allowing children to believe that their parents could make anything, even the most complicated cake from the book.
Israelization of the cream cake
Mendelson doesn’t deserve all the credit for bringing the book to Israel. Her publisher Yehuda Meltzer also played a role. “Publishing a cookbook was quite unusual for us, as we primarily focused on philosophy and children’s books. Yet, like paratroopers, we were committed to seeing it through, regardless of the outcome,” he explains. “Josie spearheaded the entire project.”
Mendelson remembers it a bit differently: “I never considered myself a professional baker, just an amateur. Designed cakes were rare in Israel back then, and I baked from an Australian book for my children and friends. One day, I made a cake for Yehuda Meltzer’s daughter, and his wife suggested, ‘Why not publish a cookbook by Josie?’ It seemed like a joke; after all, I was a kindergarten director.” Mendelsohn showed Meltzer pictures of the cakes she had made, and the Australian book for inspiration. And he said: “Let’s do it,” she recalls.
Mendelson not only adapted the recipes to suit the Israeli audience but also made significant changes beyond just names and themes. She streamlined the original 106 cakes from the Australian book to 60, modified the base recipes, developed several of her own including the balloon cake on the book’s cover, adjusted the decorative elements based on ingredients available in Israel at that time, and penned the introduction.
Photography, however, proved to be difficult. “At that time, publishing a book entirely in color was unheard of in Israel,” she explains. “One day, the publisher announced it was cheaper to buy photos from the Australian publisher. I felt disheartened because it seemed like my book was being taken away from me. It was my idea and creation, and suddenly the photos wouldn’t be authentic. We eventually agreed that some of the photos would be of my cakes, but many would be purchased from the Australians.”
This also helped address issues with some of the original photos. “There was a football cake shaped like a rugby ball, so we had to create our own football-themed cake. Then I noticed there was a Christmas cake, but we needed one for Hanukkah,” recalls Meltzer. “We employed a process I had used before in translating and adapting books — ‘Israelization.’ We hired a designer and brought in Nelli Sheffer, a prominent food photographer at the time. Josie, of course, poured her heart and soul into the project, ensuring its success.”
In the years just after the book’s publication, Mendelson kept her distance from it due to the difficult experience surrounding its production. She recalls the moment her perspective shifted: “I was working at the Karev Foundation when the new central bus station opened, and there was a self-discovery workshop for women. We were tasked to split into groups of four and find something in the mall personally relevant to each of us. As we entered the Steimatzky bookstore, someone from the group unexpectedly found the book — I was shocked. Each person began sharing their connection to the book, and when they reached me, knowing me only by my first name, they asked, ‘Josie, do you know this book?’ When I revealed I was Josephine Mendelson, they were astonished. They purchased the book and brought it to the workshop, where 25 women of all ages shared their stories. It was then that I realized the book’s impact went far beyond its images, fundamentally changing my perspective toward it.”
Over the years, Mendelson has received thousands of stories about children and their cakes, including from her own family. She shares: “My older son was dating someone, and one day they went to the supermarket. She took him to the cake decorating shelf and declared, ‘This is my favorite place.’ She explained that she came from a home with divorced parents, and during arguments, she and her brother would hide under the bed and look through the cake book.”
“It seems like absolute madness.”
Flipping through the book in 2024 evokes a mix of emotions. Our love of new trends, especially in cooking, has skyrocketed. But, unlike trends that shine on Instagram, the cakes in this book tell a different story. Some may appear daunting and nearly impossible at first glance, yet their rough edges make this culinary venture feel within reach. In an era where elaborate birthday cakes are often outsourced, these cakes harken back to a time of culinary innocence. “Back then, each cake was truly admired,” recalls Mash’al. “Every cake was a ‘wow’ moment, and my now-grown daughters couldn’t stop talking about them. Today, impressive cakes are taken for granted, at least by adults.”
There’s a certain purity and simplicity to cakes shaped like teddy bears, dolls, or balloons. Even as you browse through the still active Facebook group dedicated to the Australian book, you’ll notice that many of these creations maintain a homemade, unpolished appearance. Yet, this is precisely what makes these cakes so charming — they embody a sense of homeliness and love, sometimes appearing a bit messy, rather than the cakes made with meticulous precision that are made with fondant and adorned with gold leaf.
For Mendelson, who begins the book with the declaration: “It seems like absolute madness,” to make these cakes, the recipes are suggestions. She encourages deviating from the instructions, emphasizing the joy of adding, subtracting, or altering the shapes of these baked creations. “It’s a vibrant game, it’s delightful fun. It’s a celebration,” Mendelson adds, liberating us from the rigid rules of traditional baking. The key takeaway from this book is clear: don’t approach these cakes as serious projects, but as enjoyable and colorful family adventures. In essence, it’s about the journey, not just the result. Enjoy it.
