Why I Made My Own Cake The Day Before My Wedding

May I start by saying, “Screw you, Pinterest”? You and your individually embroidered groomsmen handkerchiefs, your hand-crafted wedding favors, and your impeccably inscribed oyster shell place cards. With your big, red, swirly P, you’ve made us kiss goodbye the days of escort cards that were exactly that — cards loaded into the tray of a rudimentary printer, designed to escort you to your seat with the simplicity and directness of the now passé Times New Roman.

It used to be that the most difficult decision made in the run-up to a wedding was to “I do” or to “I don’t.” Now it’s to buy or to DIY — and let’s be honest, if you don’t DIY, then what kind of bride are you anyway?!

The self-imposed pressure to have the most thoughtful, unique, personalized, and well, “Pin-able” wedding is high. And while you realize that, in actuality, no one will ever remember your napkin color choice or the 18 different varieties of seed packets you strung up on hand-painted window shutters as escort cards (yup), you will always have the photographic evidence that proves you did it right. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.

When you add in being the Creative Director of So Yummy, and the person who turns cakes into unicorns and powdered sugar into a fashion statement, in a landscape where “viral” is a positive diagnosis, well then you have no choice but to bustle your gown, pull off your engagement ring, and sink your blush-manicured hands into the joys of making your own wedding cake… the day before you get married. (While the paint dries on the 167 individually dipped mini terra cotta pots for the succulent place cards, of course.)

Full disclosure? I don’t even really like cake.

I’ll take a pie, pastry, or petit four over a slice of cake any day of the week. But it’s a wedding, and Pinterest, along with every other oracle of traditional wedding planning, says there must be cake! And while I’m fairly relaxed about many things, it didn’t seem like the time to be too modern — cake there would be! So, when countless people asked me, “Ooooh, what flavor?”, the answer was simply: “The one that looks the best! (And whatever my fiancé likes.)” Taking into consideration only that my chocolate cake-loving, soon-to-be husband would prefer something rich and luscious, over a pale varietal, I strove to make a cake that would satisfy both his need for yum and my own for wow.

I casually landed on a two-tiered chocolate cake with a rich, dark chocolate ganache between the layers, almond brittle, and an almond Swiss meringue buttercream. (Okay, so no, I don’t like cake, but I’ll be damned if I don’t have a reputation to protect!) To decorate, I chose to teach myself how to make gum paste roses in a blush-to-burgundy color palate — it’s amazing what a glass of wine and YouTube tutorials will do for you — and to pair those with ombré buttercream and gold leaf accents.

I also chose to make all that in my own kitchen the day of my rehearsal dinner, while ruminating on a speech and finalizing seating arrangements.

Figuring out gum paste roses was one of the single most satisfying things I’ve done in a while — figuring out how to stack one butter-creamed cake on top of a second butter-creamed cake without the proper tools, while my father was anxiously watching, was not. That sucker of a top-tier nearly went toppling to the ground, along with my hopes of a sweet cake-cutting photo akin to the one my parents took 39 years ago. And while I managed to avoid condensation on my silky-smooth cake face, I made up for it on my own.

The wedding gods were with me, however, and despite a brief precarious tilt, and a steady hand-testing yelp from my father, my two burgundy and blush-streaked layers became one full-blown wedding cake. At that point, a feeling of personal triumph carried me through to the finish line. Roses were placed, leaves were artfully nestled between them, and gold leaf made its way to wherever I could get it before my nervous breath accidentally glued it into place.

Six layers of cake, five pounds of butter, and 20 handmade roses later, and my self-worth soared!

I found myself standing in the kitchen, heart emojis popping out of my eyes, spinning and spinning that turntable, just staring at my little creation twirling on its pedestal in perfect, level rotations. And when I came to, I realized I’d have to negotiate that towering cake into the car and up the winding, pot-holed streets of Los Angeles from the ocean to the hills, without one fundamental structural component in place — the central rod that holds the two cakes together.

Even though we made it to the top with only minor signs of wear, that car ride, spent clutching the unclutch-able, was the single most stressful moment of our wedding.

After that, organizing 25 people and 75 opinions for a wedding rehearsal was a piece of cake.

So, while I recognize that the bare bones of wedding planning are a test of character in and of themselves, and that Times New Roman would have gone as unnoticed as the hand-stamped hangover kits, I’d like to end by saying, “Thank you, Pinterest.” Thank you for forcing me to create a wedding that was totally ours. Thank you for allowing me to look around the room while feeling an immense sense of pride in what I was able to pull off. And thank you for giving me the sweet cake-cutting photo I had always hoped for.

Next Pinterest search? “How to recover from having DIY-ed your wedding.”