We sure did – and, it was delectable. Because it mattered.
Dessert is my favorite meal of the day – and should really be consumed before other meals so the taste buds aren’t jaded when it finally hits the palate. There is, of course, the issue of unwanted calories and that frustrating tight-waistband routine, but that aside, I enjoy a piece of quality cake when I’m not on a weight loss and diet frenzied rampage.The wedding was no exception. Like many brides, the months leading up to the big day were laced with anxiety and stress – coupled with rather strict caloric intake and a brutal trainer (who I do adore – even though he kicked my butt and made me want to die 3x a week). The light at the end of the Quest Bar + toning tunnel was the imminent promise of a grossly over priced piece of cake – a reward for an epic marital milestone and months of weary muscles.
Only one bakery is worth the suicides and burpees – Betty Cakes Café in Ocala, Florida. The last five birthday cakes I’ve had have been by Betty. She is the Starbucks of cake, and I would pay any amount for her cakes (well, within my newlywed means). It was no question – she HAD to craft our wedding cake. So, after hours of narrowing down the top Pinterest contenders for rustic country inspired baked goods – my mom and I went to the bakery, picture in hand.
Betty asked if we needed to sample the flavors. Yes. All of them. She brought out slices for the “tasting,” which implies a “bite” or a tiny whiff … Negative. We ate every last bit JUST to be sure we made the right selection, and then paid for it (literally) with Bakari. Lunges and planks for days… oh, and running outside… in FLORIDA. Which is the equivalent of running in hell. Which doubled as penance for lying to Betty about not knowing what the buttercream tasted like, when I absolutely did.
Wedding cakes cost a fortune – and you could easily get a new 60′ TV instead for the same price SO, if you want to save $$, here’s another tasteful corner cut: Have a fake layer.
Yes – I wanted a 4-tier cake, but didn’t really want to exhaust the budget on flower and eggs, so the base layer was iced Styrofoam. No one had to know. However, our secret was out when my sweet husband and I went to cut the cake for an audience of 175 and our monogrammed knife impaled the cake with a sickening crunch as we accidently stabbed the fake layer. Mortified, we nonchalantly redirected our cutlery efforts layer two. The planks, the pull-ups, the laps through hell – totally worth the Betty bite. Bon appetite!