Weddingbee Blog

In general, I had (and have) very little gastronomic interest in cake that looks like art. I think: wow, that’s beautiful, not wow that looks so delicious that I’m probably going to continue eating leftovers for two weeks after the wedding. (Yes, that happened. Not to PDog- he has standards. Just me, alone, sitting on the floor of our kitchen with a box of cake on my lap.) Anyway, I wanted the most amount of delicious, buttercream cake flavors possible for our guests, and that meant several cakes:

Six, in fact. Six heavenly combinations of creamy icing and sweet ganache and dense, rich butter cake.

*guest photo

The baker asked how we’d like them decorated, and I said: I don’t care. She asked if, for the two-tier cake, I wanted anything special. Nope. Cake-y. Wedding-y. Icing-y. Whatever.

The florist asked what were using as a cake topper, and I said…umm, I guess flowers? What kind? she asked. And I said: Eh, I don’t care. Whatever.

Ladies, and any rogue gentlemen bees, this is what my apathy earned me: GLORY.

And these.

And this.

Oh, and these macarons because my sweet cousin Laura has a gluten allergy:

*guest photo

The cake table got its due attention during the iconic cake cutting.

Oh, the cake cutting. I’ve never really gotten the purpose. Our first act of formal pastry cutting as a married couple shall beeeeee….(drum roll….) CAKE! The point is a pretty little photo op, right? Or…The Smash.

So listen. I didn’t always believe in the cake smash. In fact, I found it- dare I say- tacky. It’s so fun, people would say, and so anti-climatic if you don’t. True enough, I figured, but think of the bride’s dress! Her hair and makeup! Those are beautiful (and expensive) things to risk messing up.

But, in the month before our wedding, my gut feeling was clear: smash. Maybe it was the excitement building up to the big day, maybe it was that we’d chosen thumping beats of Love You Madly for our cutting endeavors. Maybe it’s that we are not fancy, dainty, taking-it-seriously people. No, no. For the same reasons as beautiful Meg, I wanted the smash.

Using the same cake cutter this PDog’s grandparents used 50 years ago, we readied ourselves for the slice. Here, I’m looking up at one of my childhood friends. Wait, he’d yelled from the groups of people spectating. He gestured toward the DJ’s speakers. Is this Cake? I looked up, thrilled that someone picked up on our cheeky music selection.

Then we wound up.

Aaaaand kablam.

Then your audience is happy,

and you kiss it up, frosting style. (Please note the icing on PDog’s lapel.)

By then, I was too high on love and sugar to care that my hair had died a sad little death. It’s okay. Don’t pretend like you didn’t notice.

So I guess what I want to say is: consider the smash. Because life is short, and love, if you’re doing it right, is fun. And, after all, this is your wedding day. It’s up to you to choose the moment where elegance goes out the window. This was our moment, and let me tell you, it did not feel tacky at all. It felt like a celebration of me and the person I chose to have fun with for the rest of my life.

Photography: Katie Albrecht of Blink of an Eye
Cakes: Bluebird Bakery in Glendale (whose business I have since patronized several times. For more cake.)
Acts of Tackiness and/or Fun, depending on your viewpoint: Me & PDog