Betty Crock o’ Cake

We went to meet with a cake maker in the great sprawling hills of Brown County, Indiana. Brown County is Bloomington, if you substitute Bloomington’s structures and people with hills and trees. This was the most remote vendor we met with. We went out after dark, down unlit winding roads, while raccoons made faces at us. This is where campfire stories happen. The gloom was broken by the comfort of a porch light that illuminated the cute little house of the cake maker.

We were met by the cake designer (apparently anyone can “make” a cake) at the entry to the showroom, a square room off the back corner of the house. The slightly sweet smell of icing was in the air. Blue ribbons were displayed, along with sample designs of fanciful flowers and birds made from fondant, the sugar syrup used to make elaborately designed accents for any cake. Anything seemed possible with fondant and a skilled artist. Christa had her mind made up about style already, so making suggestions regarding, perhaps, a lobster with a beer would not have served our purpose.

Our discussions began simply enough with us estimating our guest list and, thereby, the number of servings we needed. We were hoping for a three-tiered cake, because four is too many, and two is too few, when it comes to the cake of love. The design ideas came from something we saw in a bridal magazine. It would be a white cake with white dots in alternating rows. Each layer would have a tulle ribbon tied around it in a bow, and roses would lie around the small platform created by each tier. It was gloriously simple and elegant and, therefore, relatively inexpensive, as the time needed for artistry was limited. Now we just had to determine the flavors for each layer. How simple. Let the discussion and tasting begin. We figured we would get it started by stating the obvious.

“We don’t want our wedding cake to taste like wedding cake.”

The cake designer seemed to take this somewhat in stride. I felt it necessary to explain that most wedding cakes are so sweet that I feel sick before I am halfway done with one piece. Everyone has fluffy white or yellow cake, with icing that is somehow sweeter than sugar and makes my teeth rot on the spot. I wanted a cake that was dark, thick, evil chocolate goodness, capable of tinting my teeth brown and worth eight Weight Watchers points with every bite. And I know I’m not alone in my desire.

She said, “Sure.” The single word of agreement was alarmingly too simple, too easy.

This was followed by tasting some samples she had made for us. We were sold on her ability to make cake, and from viewing the showroom, we knew our design would be almost too easy for her.

As we ate, she described some of the possibilities. I thought we were looking at something fairly easy. I mean, in the grocery, you have about six Betty Crocker cake flavors and six icings to choose from, a finite number of combinations. I figured this would be a little more advanced, but within the realm of comprehension. I was slightly off.

“How fluffy do you want it?” the cake lady asked.

“Nice fluffy,” I replied, displaying my full knowledge of baked goods and the English language.

“It can be anything from pillowy to like a brownie. It can be any flavor and also infused with additional flavors,” she said with no hesitation. Is she an alien intent on conquering the world through diabetes?

“Let’s limit ourselves to the good flavors,” I said, glancing around for human-harvesting pods.

“Each tier can be different, and I can put icing, preserves, or anything else between the layers of each tier.” Definitely not human, but does she want to take over the world?

“Do you have any recommendations?” Christa asked her, apparently unconcerned with humanity’s fate and simply wanting the choices narrowed down.

“It’s really up to you. I can probably track down any other recipe or style you want,” she replied. You will not defeat me with obesity and lethargy, Cake Overlord.

It was at this moment that Christa realized that having anything she wanted could, possibly, be a curse. (She’s still willing to try it, for a while, but can see how it could become cumbersome at times.) We agreed to retain the cake designer’s services and paid the deposit, but we wanted some time to mull the fifteen billion options.

My head was spinning with the possibilities, the two cups of sugar I had eaten, and the burden of saving mankind from its own sweet tooth.
- Drew Lloyd
From "Will You?" to "I Do.": A Groom's Tale of Survival