Phillip and I are meeting with Amy, our amazing wedding planner, for some serious wedding planning. Since we hired her, wedding planning has become really fun.
We’re basically planning one big, long party, and I love parties!
We’ve both had numerous phone conversations with Amy about what we want at the wedding. And we know food is high on Phillip’s list. We both want the food to be like good, normal food. Sorry, but don’t come to my wedding if you’re looking for little appetizers with caviar and cream on top.
That is not us.
We meet her at the hotel, view the ballrooms, and sit down to start our food tasting. We taste all the appetizers for the cocktail party. We’re having Kobe beef sliders, hot wing bites, twice-baked baby new potatoes, bacon-wrapped scallops, barbecued shrimp, a shot glass of tomato-basil soup served with a mini grilled cheese, fruit kabobs, and crab cakes.
We also want to have a cool signature cocktail. We just need to choose one.
Amy says, “They made three drinks for you to try. I wasn’t sure which way you would want to go—a wintery drink or one that matches your wedding decor.”
First, we try a chocolate peppermint martini. It’s really good, and it reminds me of hot chocolate and Peppermint Schnapps. Then, we taste a gingerbread martini. Phillip is in love with the gingerbread one, but he thinks they both taste too much like dessert. Once they bring out the third drink, I see why. I’m pretty sure this drink was Phillip’s idea. It’s called the princess martini.
Amy tells me, “It’s a combination of Chambord-flavored vodka, citron vodka, and lemonade.”
Phillip takes a taste. “This drink is aptly named. It’s just like you. The perfect combination of sweet and sass.”
“And the glass is rimmed with purple sugar. How cute is that?”
“Like I said, just like you.”
I take another drink and then yell out, “Sold!”
Phillip grins at me.
Sorry, I have to say it.
Isn’t he just adorable?
I just want to take him home with me.
Like, now.
But we have to do this stuff even though all I can think about is how I’d like to rip his clothes off.
We taste everything on our dinner menu. The wedge salad with balsamic vinaigrette, the Kansas City strip steak with a port wine reduction, garlic mashed potatoes, and cheesy corn. It is all really good.
“Jadyn,” Amy says to me, “Phillip told me you love desserts. I think it might be fun to do something a little different. While you’re doing the toasts, your first dance, and cutting the cake, I thought we should serve a little something sweet to finish off dinner and go with the champagne. And don’t worry; people will still eat plenty of cake.”
Danny, who is known for his impeccable timing, texts me.
Danny: XXX desserts = chocolate body paint + whipped cream.
Gosh, he makes me laugh. I show Phillip the text.
He whispers in my ear, “We’ll stop at the store later. That sounds fun.”
I bite my lip. I’m practically breathless, imagining Phillip covered in whipped cream and chocolate. Two of my most favorite things.
I’m having a nice, steamy daydream when the chef brings out an array of dessert shooters. Little bites of wonder are what they should be called. They’re the perfect size, and we couldn’t pick just one. So, we’re doing an assortment and letting the guests each try a few. We did narrow the options down to four, Phillip and I each picking our two favorites.
And I have to talk about these desserts because dessert is, like, my very favorite thing in the world. Phillip has always teased me because, if I had my way, I would eat dessert first and see how hungry I was before ordering dinner.
If only our bodies would cooperate with this, diet-wise.
I think God, the architect of our amazing universe, made incredible things—sunsets, rainbows, ripples in the water, our bodies and minds, and everything. He also created sex. Think about that.
But I think the fact that dessert every day would make us fat is a serious design flaw.
Think how happy we’d all be.
Seriously, if everyone in the world could eat dessert first and not get fat in the process, I’m convinced there would be so much more happiness and love in the world. It’s kinda like the whole ’70s thing.
Peace, love, and weed.
Now, sure, weed makes you feel all happy, but, you know, it’s illegal and all and frowned upon by many.
However …
Peace, love, and dessert.
I really think the world could wrap its head around this.
And I plan to fully support this movement at my wedding.
Dessert for everyone.
So, don’t laugh at the fact that we’re having four kinds of dessert shooters and two kinds of cake.
Okay, now, let me gush about these shooters.
My favorite is something called chocolate overload, which, if I remember right from school, would be considered an oxymoron because it’s not possible in Jadyn’s little world. There is no such possible thing as too much chocolate; therefore, it’s impossible to overload it. It starts out with gooey flourless chocolate cake pieces, and then it’s topped with homemade chocolate fudge, chocolate ganache, and chocolate whipped cream.
Seriously.
“You can just take a dozen or so of those up to the honeymoon suite and leave them by the bathtub for me on our wedding night,” I half-joke to Amy and Phillip.
Actually, I’m not really joking.
My other favorite is lighter and fluffy, but it is equally wonderful. It is similar to a cake my grandma used to make when I was little. It has pound cake, warm caramel sauce, whipped cream, and toffee pieces.
Phillip chooses a mini tiramisu because that’s his mom’s favorite dessert, and then he goes crazy over pumpkin cake with caramel liquor and cinnamon-spiced whipped cream.
“You can put some of these by the tub for me,” he jokes.
“I’m a wedding planner, not the dessert fairy,” Amy says. “Although, when we’re finished up here, we do get to taste cake. I’m gonna go tell them we’re ready for the after-party food.”
“This is, like, the best day ever,” Phillip says to me.
I’m still picturing Phillip covered in chocolate, so I whisper to him, “If you buy chocolate and whipped cream on the way home, it might just be your best night ever, too.”
He gives me the sexiest grin. “I think that can be arranged.”
He gazes at my mouth. I’m pretty sure he’s going to kiss me, but he says, “You have some whipped cream on your mouth. Here, let me get it.”
He licks the corner of my mouth and then kisses me. I’m pretty sure he was lying, but I don’t mind.
Amy waltzes back in with a different chef. “Since both of you have fond memories of late-night breakfasts with your friends, that seemed like the perfect food for your after-party.”
We taste the cutest stack of mini pancakes that are held together by a purple skewer and drizzled with warm maple syrup. There are paper cones full of mini hash browns, sausage and cheese biscuit sliders, mini French toast points made with cinnamon bread, warm mini cinnamon rolls with thick white frosting, and a little ramekin filled with a mushroom and pepper jack cheese omelet.
The exact type I used to make for Phillip and Danny.
“What do you think?” she asks.
Phillip and I both have our mouths full of something. He gives her two thumbs-up.
I chew quickly and then say, “I think you just pitched a shutout.”
And she’s like, “What?”
“It’s like you had the perfect game,” Phillip tells her. “You did good.”
After a long drive home, Phillip makes good on his promise. He stops at the grocery store by my house and comes out with hot fudge and a can of whipped cream.
Let’s just say, Phillip is by far the best dessert of the day.
