Nessa Versus Food
I love eating. I mean, I really, really love food. I love looking at it, smelling it, watching programmes about it and reading books with pictures about it. I signed an online petition to bring those M&S ‘food porn’ adverts back. I loved them. I love eating. With all that in mind, it was with gleeful delight that we received instructions from our wedding planner to decide what reception dishes we want to trial at our next scouting trip to Spain in April.
Comfortably attired in pyjamas and dressing gown, (can I get a whoop whoop for elasticated waistbands y’all?) I silenced the telly and gave the dog a bone and down we sat. Did I tell you how much I love menus? Best food stories ever. So, for our next visit we’re told we’ll do a food trial. At first I thought that this might be exactly what it says on the tin. Visions of ‘Man Versus Food’ shenanigans flashed through my mind. I’d so win at all those games. Alas, ‘food trial’ here can be understood to mean sampling food with a view to picking stuff for the wedding. Drat.
Still, getting over that dark period in my life and getting back to the menus, we’ve to pick two starters, two mains and three desserts which we will demolish, I mean daintily pick at in an organised and ladylike manner, before making a decision about what our guests will eat. Talk about a great day out! Disney World stand aside. It is a huge responsibility of course. I’m given to understand from various forums that food can make or break a wedding. Really??
As I left my twenties in a blaze of glory and blasted into my early to mid-thirties, I’ve presented myself to more weddings than I can count. Here’s what stands out about weddings for me: the craic and the craic. I’ve never found myself looking back from the haze of my hangover and going “yeah I would have enjoyed that jägerbomb session if it weren’t for that over salted soup earlier in the day”. If I did, I’d have to have a serious word with myself. And did I mention I love food?
Of course, none of us want to be eating melon that fermented last Friday or tucking into turkey and ham that tastes like old sock and rest assured I will be checking for such characteristics next April. However after the deed is done, I’d hope the last thing my guests would be commenting on is the food. If it’s good, which we’re confident it will be, feel free to compliment us and the hotel until the cows come home. Didn’t enjoy your meal? Well then maybe keep it to yourself until you go home you cow! Ah how I jest! Maybe.
Along with the choice of courses, comes the decision on whether or not to have a cake. I love the having of cake obviously. Let us all have cake all day long as far as I’m concerned. It’s the cutting of it as a single entity that strikes me as odder than a bottle of chips. When the moment presents itself at the various weddings I’ve been to, there is a stampede to the corner of the room which is then followed by a simulated lightning storm while everyone gets ‘the photo’. The bride and groom are stood there grinning widely for what I’m assuming must be several of the longest minutes of their lives as they prepare to jointly cut a cake. What does it mean?? Is it like “here we are cutting our first cake as a married couple? This is how we’ll cut cake from now on?” What else do we have to do together now, I ask with alarm? Jointly chop vegetables? Jointly change the TV channel?? Surely not! If I had to wait for Mr. Brady to be there every time I wanted cake, I’d never get fed and a Nessa without icing does not a nice Nessa make. I’m well able to cut a cake on my own – I work out man. No, I’ve always found the cake cutting process to be one better conducted alone. I ask myself “can I be sure he’ll still marry me once he’s seen me eat half a cake to myself?” The answer is “no, not entirely”. Anyway, as the great philosopher once said, does a cake eaten alone still contain calories? I’m from the ‘no definitely not’ school of thought myself.
Anyway, I have two countdowns running on my phone – one for the wedding itself and one for the trial. Along with food, I’ve to trial my hair and my makeup. We’ve also to meet the photographer, the florist and priest. It’s all very exciting and it’s definitely going to require a lot of energy to get through it all. It’s safe to say I’m in training for that food trial.
Each week the delightfully witty Vanessa Pope delights us with tales of her journey up the aisle, follow her story here on north-westbrides.com.