I’m not a morning person. But I rolled out of bed at 6:30 am  just to bake my sister a cake before leaving NYC. The picture my sister sent me after I left, I never got to try it rip. Her love language is gifts. Mine is acts of service. So when we see each other, it’s always this fun trade: she’s shoving teas and pastries into my hands the second I drop my bag, and I leave her something home-baked. This time, it was a  brown-butter apple coffee cake . I browned the butter (the