First of all, you can find me in two other places today! I have a guest post about sidekicks over at the awesome Liv Rancourt’s blog, and I also have my first post over at Spellbound Scribes in which I frame myself and the other lovely scribes as kidnappers and thieves.
But who is eating cake, you ask? I’m referring to our wedding guests, of course. Today we went to a cake tasting at our caterer’s restaurant location.
It was… a little weird.
First of all, as I type this sentence, my computer says it’s 10:22 a.m. Our tasting was at 10. She had us out of there in less than fifteen minutes, which means we both ate the equivalent of a small bundt cake in about ten minutes.
I’m a little shakey and jittery now, but a lot more awake than I was after my morning tea.
Our fiven chosen flavor-slices were arranged on a plate, sort of like this:
But, um, less fancy. And smaller. And not iced. Instead we had a little blob of buttercream icing in the center… eating that blob is probably the reason why I’m feeling a little nauseous, as well as jittery.
But we tried our five flavors (word to the wise: cinnamon roll cake is just not meant for weddings) and picked the three that will actually comprise our three-layer cake. After that, we were just eating cake for a late breakfast.
Apparently choosing whether or not you will cut the top layer of your cake is a fairly big decision. You probably know that many couples freeze that top layer and eat it on their first anniversary. But anything that sits in my freezer for a year, no matter how well wrapped, will taste like freezer and red peppers.
So we’re cuttin’ that sucker at the reception!
Incidentally, did you know that the save-it-for-a-year tradition started as saving it for the birth of your first child? True story. Regardless, cake is meant for eating, not freezing.
Anyway, now that you’re a little wiser about the ways of wedding cake, I have to say that the whole experience was a little strange. I was actually looking forward to trying cakes (as any food-loving bride should be!), but the caterer was so brusque and the experience so, well, dull that if I weren’t still feeling the sugar, I’d probably feel a little let-down, like when Anne of Green Gables says she cried the first time she saw a real, colorless diamond, because she expected it to look more like a regal purple amethyst.
I thought we’d be a bit more pampered and that I’d actually get to meet the person baking my cake. The plates were arranged beautiful, and we each had a nice goblet for water, and a fork and napkin and the whole shebang. But the caterer left us to eat our cake in peace, and disappeared until we’d made ourselves giddy with sugar. It was nothing like this:
No Franck, upselling the $1200 cakes or showing me photos from magazines. I told her what I wanted the cake to look like from an image on the internet… And that was it. Presto, we have a wedding cake. Weird.
Readers, have you ever had the surreal experience of doing something you had really looked forward to, only to find it ridiculously mundane? Is it just me?