Death by Chocolate Macarons
Font styles – Palatino Linotype? Italics? Size? Colours, paper GSM, orientation? Oh and the wording on every bleeding insert, and that’s just the wedding invitations.
Then there were sarees. SO MANY SAREES. In all-sorts of colours I’d never even heard of…until I went saree shopping that is. Not pink, but onion pink. Not orange, but rust orange. Robin egg? Why is that even a colour?? Then there were the centrepieces…square vases or tall martini glasses, ivy or no ivy? Tealights or candelebras? Fishbowls or birdcages? Flowers this flowers that. Mr N&D was just about conscious throughout it all, until the menu tastings which are THE MOST FUN THINGS to do when wedding planning. I ate double my body weight everyday for three days and felt like I was in culinary utopia.
The menus for our four day wedding were all very different ranging from tapas and mediterranean to Indian street-style. We were really just worried about having the hotel cater the Indian fodder, being a modern european specialist, and surprisingly they churned out a mean butter chicken. SOLD. So after the binges at our Indian caterers’ we were off to binge yet again at El Palace, formerly known as the Ritz. This hotel looks phenomenal. All very palatial and regal. And they do a really good club sandwich and pina colada, but not a very good wedding cake, black cod or lamb. After the harrowing experiences of the stationery, sarees and flowers, I really wanted the menu-tastings to go perfectly, mindlessly. Since it didn’t, the she-demon with eyes burning red with rage, fangs growing, ears steaming, rose within and I unleashed it. I unleashed it proper. It came out and wasn’t going back in. It wasn’t quite a Bridezilla moment, more a Bridetsunami moment as neither Patrick nor I knew where it came from and where exactly it was going. Bridetsunami managed to scare the events manager, the maitre-d’, the wedding planner, Patrick, the other couple there for their tasting, as well as myself. Started with sarcasm, threw in some screams for good measure, then ended with the Niagara Falls pouring out of my eyes.
But there are worse things in the world to cry about. Like the bridesmaids dresses turning out to be royal blue bin bags, and the hairdresser making me look like a cross between Nanny McPhee and Zsa Zsa Gabor.
Anyway, aren’t these pretty?