First (and Probably Last) Wedding Cake

One of the reasons I took summer off from school is because my older brother was getting married in mid July, and I wanted to take the week off to help them out. J had originally planned on going with me, but work obligations made it impossible. It turned out to be just as well, as we found out that plane tickets, which aren't cheap to begin with, are more than double the usual price during July!

I volunteered to make the wedding cake, and IT WAS HELL. I ordered the groceries to arrive the night I got home with my suitcase full of cake pans, and I got started first thing in the morning. I kept at it for three days, and I couldn't help fearing that something would go awry no matter how much I had practiced and planned. And of course it did.

First, my mom failed to tell me that the oven was broken. I knew nothing about it, and I managed to bake most of the layers before the oven just crapped out on me. I freaked, and my dad called the repairman who basically told us that it was a no go and that a brand new oven would be necessary. My dad asked if I could just use the still-functioning stove. Um, no.

Luckily, my aunt, who doesn't live too far from my parents, let me pop over with the tins of cake batter in hand to finish the job. Whew, crisis averted. 

I was pretty upset on the ride back home with the baked cakes safely stowed in the backseat. I told my mom I had rotten luck, and this confirmed it added to the fact that I had seen a funeral that morning while walking the dog. My mom blithely informed me that seeing a funeral was actually good luck! Explanation, please. That's when she told me that the oven has actually been broken for months, and she was surprised to see it fire up at all that morning. See, funeral =  good luck!

I think that's probably the moment my head exploded. How did she think I was going to make the wedding cake?! She shrugged, and said what does she know about wedding cakes. More mental explosions ensued, accompanied by hysterical laughter. I guess I could've just bbq'd the cake, if necessary. OMG.

Second, my mom had cleared out the main fridge so I could store the cake in there, but my dad kept sneaking smelly things in there. I didn't want the chocolate cake to have a hint of fresh jalapeño, so I kept having to check to see if he hid anything else he shouldn't have in the fridge. I got to play "Wheres Waldo?" in the refrigerator for a week.

Third, my mom kept opening the fridge to stare at the cake. So much so that I was scared that the buttercream would melt and the cake would come apart in the intense LA heat. I kept having to holler at her to shut the damn door. As if she would listen. Then she would wander over to my workspace and tell me how I could improve the cake. This, coming from the woman who didn't know I'd need the oven to make the wedding cake. I finally ended up banishing her from the kitchen while I was working just so I wouldn't be tempted to cover her in fondant.

Despite that oven meltdown and my parents' best attempts at driving me batshit insane, the cake actually turned out okay!

I nearly crapped myself driving the unassembled cake to Malibu, and putting it together at the venue near about did my head in. Especially when my brother mentioned that he thought it was teetering. Luckily, he was wrong, but I was stressed the whole time, wondering if it was going to survive until the cake cutting.

Home free! My relief was palpable when they cut the cake, and the servers began to cut slices for the crowd without incident.

Thank goodness my other brother is already married, as I won't have to do this ever again!