It’s my perfect kinda Sunday: one with leftover wedding cake for breakfast.
Yesterday we attended a wedding for our neighbor’s daughter. The reception was just a hop, skip and a jump from where we live, quite convenient. I was excited all day Saturday because as Billy Idol sang, it was a nice day for white wedding cake.
I love. Love. LOVE. wedding cake. It’s my favorite kinda cake. I don’t know if it’s because of all the promise that comes with a wedding cake, all the love that went into picking it out, or because it’s layers and layers of frosting goodness, all decorated up like a normal cake never is. Whatever the reason, wedding cake is just BETTER than other cake. And believe you me, I file a rare complaint against other cakes.
We smuggled out four pieces. Now, before you judge (you are a Judging Reader, aren’t you???) we took two for us, two for the folks who live downstairs (who also attended) and didn’t want their cake. I informed them, “Don’t even think about leaving your cake share, it WILL be coming home with us!” And then it came upstairs and into my house. And it’s not like it’s four big pieces – it’s wedding cake, merely a little sliver. Really, two little bites. Chomp Chomp. Over.
The morning came together just as I planned: a piece of room-temperature cake to be enjoyed WHILE the coffee is brewing, and next I’ll enjoy a piece of refrigerated cake once the coffee is done.