Joe and I had a great wedding cake. I remember that it was the one part of the wedding planning process where I knew exactly what I wanted and it came out even better than I expected. Mark from Confectionery Designs came with the wedding site and delivered, big time, so I thought he deserved the plug. The center was yellow cake soaked in Grand Marnier with chocolate mousse filling. The outside was whipped cream frosting with molded chocolate swirl designs. Here is one of my favorite pictures from the entire day, when Joe and I were getting ready to cut into its magnificence.
Another thing that came with the wedding site was delivery of the top layer to our honeymoon suite for consumption on our first anniversary. I had always been psyched that we got the whole top layer to take home, because there is never enough chocolate mousse and whipped cream in my life, ever. Plus, by soaking the cake in liquor, I thought that it would preserve well. We put the top layer in my mom's freezer and figured that we'd be back in Rhode Island for our anniversary.
Well, we spent our first anniversary in Washington D.C. and completely forgot about the cake. I remembered it every time I was in no position to eat it, such as in a car or 200 miles away from Mom's freezer.
Monday was our second anniversary and we were going to be not just in RI, but in my mom's house! I was so excited to eat some wedding cake for breakfast. For two years, I'd held out hope that it preserved well, despite the warnings of friends who had rock-hard cupcakes, Joe and my mom, who said that it would be disgusting. I had faith and nothing was going to stop me from eating a big old slice of sentimentally-valued sugar.
Okay, not the most appetizing dessert in the world. Still, it was just that a lot of time had passed. The chocolate had leaked a bit. Whipped cream is so pure, a blank canvas for any visible impurity.
That didn't stop me from cutting a big slice:
And you know what? I was right! It didn't taste terrible! It wasn't as good as freshly baked cake, but it was completely edible, and I was hungry.
Joe had a bite and was satisfied. I wanted to plow through, using my anniversary as an excuse to binge, but the voice of reason, aka husband, made an excellent point. What if it made us sick on the three-hour ride home to New Jersey? We already had 15 hours under our belt that weekend and couldn't imagine making the trip any longer than necessary. So I savored two more bites, bringing my total to five. Five bites and I had to stop. I was disappointed but consoled by my responsible behavior.
Isn't that the ultimate marriage metaphor? Sacrifice of indulgence for the sake of both parties' well-being. In the end, the reward is even sweeter. Later that night, he returned the gesture with tiramisu. Yesterday I made him cupcakes.
Happy anniversary, honey. Many more desserts to come.