The touch of his father

Watch my hands.

Buddy Valastro Sr. was folding and stretching dough in the family’s Hoboken, N.J. bakery shop.

Watch me, he said to his son. He pulled the dough, worked it thin into the nearly translucent sheet of pastry necessary for the perfect sfogliatelle. Lobster tails, some call them: incredibly light and flaky pastries filled with cream. It was the signature dish at Carlo’s Bakery Shop.

Buddy Jr. just hadn’t been able to make that pastry. He had mastered the fancy cakes and baked delights at the store, but sfogliatelle mocked him. There was a special magic in being able to stretch the dough thin as parchment, yet not tear it; to pull it out, but not bunch it.

Buddy Sr. had the touch that escaped his son. Maybe it was because Buddy Sr. came from three generations of bakers, all the way back to Italy. And it was certainly because Buddy Sr. spent 30 years making lobster tails. The locally famous shop in New Jersey was opened by Carlo Guastaffero in 1910 and purchased by Buddy Sr. in 1964. He had grand plans, then. Maybe to bake a cake that would grace a wedding magazine. Maybe to expand.

But that particular night was just about one thing. “Watch me,” his father said. “I’m not here to play around. I’m here to show you how to make lobster tails one more time.”

So Buddy Jr. watched his father again and moved his hands in the bakers dance until he, too, pulled out a thin layer of dough. No bunches. No tears. Perfection.
And then Buddy Jr. woke up.

Buddy, who took over the shop at age 17, after his father died of cancer, awoke in excitement and, in life as in his dream, rushed to the bake shop. For the first time, Buddy Jr. pulled out the perfect sfogliatelle pastry. His father’s last visit to the bake shop was not merely a dream; It was a gift.

Today, fans of reality television know Buddy Jr. as The Cake Boss. That little shop in Hoboken is now an industry with 18 locations worldwide. The shop’s cakes have graced the covers of wedding magazines. And Buddy Jr. is a television star, who still grieves for his dad and is still grateful for the perfect sfogliatelle.

(Adapted from a first-person article in Guideposts)