Before you ask, no, it's not that I didn't punch my new husband in the face when he cake-smashed me in the middle of our wedding, even though I specifically asked him not to, because honestly, I'm now in love with the photo you now see above (H/T @WeddingsByTwo, ilu guys). No, my biggest food-related wedding regret, dear reader, is that I didn't have a single bite of said cake throughout my entire wedding.
In the months leading up to our wedding, Michael and I were the kind of assholes who spoke constantly about what we'd be eating that night. We pined about the above-par food at our venue (@LibertyWarehouse, ilu guys too). We talked late into the night about how people would be obsessed with what we'd chosen. We earnestly discussed the merits of grilled cheese bites versus potato pancake ones — I am not kidding. Please see the below mortifying note I just found on my phone from March 2017, oh my god.
We were obsessed! And yet, even before all of that, maybe even a full year before, we locked down our cake situation because it was that important to us. We zeroed in on our bakery almost immediately (@Baked, ilu guys the most) and arranged a tasting so far in advance of the wedding I remember the very kind and confused baker asking if we'd like to come back at the same time the next year.
But we didn't! We wanted to know our cake so we could talk about our cake so we could think about our cake and — you get it. We were beyond obsessed with the cake.
After tasting quite literally everything Baked had to offer, we kept our final decisions broad: we went with a small and super simple, super gorgeous white chocolate-frosted, white-cake-filled-with-raspberry delight ... to be served family style on each table with a handful of other out of sight cakes: Coconut Dream, Sweet n' Salty, Raspberry Lemonade, and more.
All of these decisions were made for the sole purpose of selfishly ensuring we'd enjoy our own cake at our own wedding. And yet, somehow, between the single cocktail hour chicken skewer and the reception gulps of braised short ribs my best friend held me down and shoved in my mouth and the many, many glasses of champagne and the fact that there was so much cake it was EVERYWHERE that night, I did not end up with a single bite.
At some point in the night, it became clear to me the cake had been had and was gone. It also became clear to me everyone — my husband and parents and BFFs included — had had several bites, if not slices, of each flavor. It was at that point I began crying. Sure, the tears were from the emotion of having all my favorite people in the whole world in one room at the same time and marrying my soulmate or whatever, but if we're being perfectly honest, I was mourning both the end of the night and the cake.
Dear reader, I was devastated. And hungry. And made Michael promise to take me to Baked on the eve of our first anniversary (which he did not, BTW, though a few Baked goods did magically appear at our apartment over the course of that week). And swore no other woman should ever have to suffer the same injustice. And so we are here.
Have the wedding, dear reader. And eat the cake too.
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