“I know it seems like your wedding is right around the corner, but really I don’t start worrying about them until three days out.”
With that line, my cake vendor found herself out of a client. That shoulder-shrugging admonishment to a bride whose wedding is in fact just around the corner was the last straw. (Backstory: I thought I had to use this baker because of some sort of exclusivity contract with the hotel. Mother Bridal Bird—a far more careful reader of the catering contract than I—discovered that we do not in fact have to use her.) Anyway, the previous straws:
1. I’d been trying to contact her since August and until yesterday at 11 a.m. was never able to get her on the phone.
2. She left me a message a couple weeks ago saying that, based on the messages I’d been forced to leave for her, we were “totally on the same page” about what cake I wanted. That was right up until I was forced to leave a message yesterday morning saying that I wanted to be sure she understood I wanted buttercream icing, not nasty rolled fondant icing. That was the magic bullet because she instantly returned my phone call.
Cake baker: “Can I ask why you don’t want fondant?”
Me: “Because it doesn’t taste good. Also, I indicated on the order two months ago that I didn’t want it. I’m a little concerned that you left me a message saying we were “on the same page” about what I wanted and you were about to bring me a cake covered in a frosting that I find inedible.”
Cake baker: “I know everyone thinks that but mine is realllllly good. It’s like a thinly rolled vanilla Tootsie Roll.”
Me: “That doesn’t sound good.”
At this point cake baker offers to bring a slice for me to taste, but then adds the following in an “whatever, it’s your funeral” tone.
Cake baker: “I will tell you though, at this time of year you can still have buttercream frosting melt. And it doesn’t look like we’re going to have any comfortable weather snap in the next two weeks. I wouldn’t want your cake to look bad.”
Me (after holding phone away from face and staring at it in disbelief): “The wedding is indoors. It’s projected to be in the low 70s/high 60s for the next two weeks.”
Cake baker: “So what is your priority with your cake: taste or it looking good?”
Me: “As it goes in my mouth, my priority is taste.”
Cake baker: “Alright. What kind of cake did you want again?”
Me (bordering on hissy): “Key. Lime. Mousse. This order was sent over to you more than two months ago by the hotel.”
We basically sign off with the equivalent of mean girls’ hair flings and “whatevs.” I immediately call Sugarbakers, the Baltimore cake vendor I used for my fiancé’s 40th birthday party, and beg them to do my wedding cake in two weeks. They oblige and schedule me for an emergency cake tasting. Mmmm…emergency cake tasting-y. Later that day, I settled on a scrumdiddlyumcious lemon mousse wedding cake as well as a chocolate-with-chocolate-mousse groom’s cake. Nobody puts Baby in a fondant-covered corner.