Page 77 of Fathers of the Bride
“Daddy, did you tell them Avery’s favorite is chocolate,” Kelly said. I hadn’t but—
“No chocolate,” the other one growled.
“What do you mean, no chocolate,” I said. “People have chocolate wedding cakes all the time.”
“It’s messy.” “
“We don’t do messy.”
As though to prove the point, Char—or maybe it was Cher— picked up a photo album and set it in front of us. “Flip through.”
When they were gone, I told Avery I was sorry.
“It’s not a problem. Chocolate is my favorite, but it’s not the only kind of cake I like. In fact, I like most kinds of cake.”
The four of us looked through the book. Char and Cher were right; they didn’t do messy. The cakes were architectural and minimalist with flawless white icing and intricate piping. Almost everything was white, even the roses they sometimes decorated with.
Every so often, Kelly said, “That’s pretty.”
Oddly, Martha described the cakes as the pictures went by. She’d brought a pen with her and seemed to be talking into it like it was a microphone. Did she think this wasThe Voice?
We’d barely looked at a half a dozen cakes when the chefs returned. Each carried two plates, each plate held a slice of cake. They set them down and offered us each a fork. Without much fanfare, the cakes were introduced, “Chai tea with honey icing, Prosecco and rose water, lemon thyme with lavender icing, and bourbon vanilla with white chocolate icing.”
With a sneer, Char or maybe Cher, said, “Each cake is vegan.” From the looks on their faces, I feared we’d ruined their day.
Cher said, “We’ll leave you alone.”
They wandered off and I looked at Kelly and Avery. I could tell from his face that he was dubious. Under his breath he said, “They kind of scare me.”
“Oh, that’s silly,” Kelly said. “Which one should we try first?”
“Let’s do the bourbon vanilla first,” I suggested. Avery visibly relaxed. We each picked up a fork and took a bite.
It was a lovely cake, the bourbon flavor subdued and the white chocolate subtle. And the texture was marvelous, like a sugary cloud.
“Sugary sweet, a tiny bit of whiskey flavor, the frosting is good,” Martha said, as though narrating. I was wrong, she didn’t want to be onThe Voice. No, her jam wasThe Great British Bake Off.
“Very lovely,” I said of the cake.
“I think this is it,” Avery said, enthusiastically.
“I don’t know. It’s not very impressive,” Kelly said. “I mean, it’s good—”
“Let’s move on,” I said. “How about the chai tea?”
We each took a bite of that. Both the cake and the icing were a creamy beige color. Again, the flavors were there but not very over-powering. I peeked at Avery I could see that he was pleasantly surprised.
Martha continuing her running commentary, “It’s beige, sweet, faint taste of tea.”
Kelly said, “Meh.”
“Oh really?” I said, “I like it.”
Though I probably liked the first one better.
Next was the Prosecco and rose water. It was not my favorite. In fact it tasted a bit like hand-crafted soap—not that I’ve ever… well, once. For my show, of course.
“Smells good, can’t taste the wine or the roses really,” Martha said. “A little like drain cleaner.”
