In the midst of the holiday craziness, Veil hosted a wedding party. A small wedding, the bride and groom, brought their very small wedding party in for a special 6 course menu on a Friday, following their ceremony, and all their friends and family in for a cocktail reception the next evening.
With all the holiday parties held in a restaurant, their purpose can elude the kitchen. Mr. Dentist’s sit down dinner for himself and his staff of young dental hygienists simply becomes “Friday menu, 5 courses gluten free, want creme brulee” (I might add our dishwasher was crushed when we informed him the aging man with 8 hotties was not Seattle’s version of Hugh Heffner.) A cocktail reception in the bar for the Seattle International Film Festival is “that party we bought the cured meat from Pino for.”
This wedding itself may have slipped by our cooks notice, simply being “14 top, set menu” had it not been for the wedding cake I made. In the midst of Friday afternoon’s prep, I had allocated an entire counter to myself barking at anyone who came near it with a pot of this or a cutting board of that. I scrubbed it as clean as possible, and I rolled the snowy white fondant in thin sheets, covering flourless chocolate cake layered with rosemary and honey mousse.
Not out of the ordinary for a pastry chef, this process was something our cooks had never seen. Our dishwasher was chased back to work a few times, after standing and watching in awe through out the entire process.
It’s a different animal, a exagerated process that seems to be slow motion compared to the din of cooking. Nothing can be rushed, each layer gently built, covered carefully, smoothed by hand, perfected for two peoples “one and only” evening.
After the cake was covered, stacked, finished, it drew all eyes for a moment. A few deep breaths taken, the magnitude of the party it was meant for sunk in. This isn’t just another holiday party, this is someones wedding. It only lasted but half a second and the kitchen was back in full swing pushing to get ready for the evening, preparing for their usual busy weekend service and, “that wedding dinner on the communal table”