For the TWOP Theme Challenge #2: In Ten Years...
Details, feelings, words... and cake.
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As any rank amateur can tell you, the ability to bake and construct a tiered wedding cake is a craft requiring countless hours of practice (with many heartbreaking failures to endure along the way,) before it can be mastered.
Sookie St. James, however, is not a craftsman (ahem, woman,) she is an artist at her zenith. Not only do her tiered wedding cakes achieve startling heights literally, but figuratively as well. They are light and moist at once, and are breathtakingly beautiful to look upon—achieving elegance without being prim, and warmth without being common. And the taste!—Mouth orgasms, as Lorelai once indelicately put it.
When Emily Gilmore began preparations for the lavish evening she planned not only to renew her wedding vows with Richard (as they were now reconciled,) but also to launch The Dragonfly simultaneously with the elite of Hartford, she had almost flipped (not that she did of course) when she saw Sookie's exquisite portfolio of wedding cakes.
Sookie kept an album of the many cakes she'd created over the years (the coconut one with the palm fronds done in royal icing, the lemon cake covered with fragile sugared cherry blossoms, etc...). Such an album is a good thing for a professional chef to keep (as Lorelai had pointed out.) But more than this, Sookie was sentimental about them... (Ooo! Remember the pumpkin spice for the Goth wedding with cream cheese frosting and spider webbing done in minced nuts—creating the stencil for that alone had taken nearly ten hours of work.)
Emily's glee over Sookie's album is how she came to be working this particular Saturday morning on the cake. Tonight was the big event and Sookie wanted the cake out of the way before lunch time so she could then turn her attention completely to the lavish variety of buffet tables Emily wanted laid for the evening.
No formal dinner, per se, was planned. But a wide variety of sumptuous nibbles (plentiful, of course) perfect for a warm late summer evening: Caviar on toast points (Beluga—overrated as far as Sookie was concerned, but what Emily wanted); Steak tartar; Jicama wrapped in prosciuto; Chilled smoked salmon (northwestern style;) Amazing cheeses, and so on... All very elegant, in an understated sort of way, and generously garnished with the very freshest of fruits and veggies that Jackson could produce or procure.
But to focus on the cake now: Emily had chosen bluebirds as the theme for her evening. She'd thought it quaint as in 'The bluebirds of happiness' had flown back into her life and, also, that it was fitting with a Country Inn setting. Therefore the cake must feature bluebirds.
This was not to be yet another dreary, conspicuous New York hotel event. Emily Gilmore was bored to tears with those. Besides, she had several objectives to achieve with this evening: 1) To show everyone who was anyone that Emily and Richard Gilmore adore one another. 2) To feature the charm of The Dragonfly (and ideally draw new business for Lorelai as well,) and, 3) To frivolously spend as much of her mother-in-law's money as she reasonably could at a single event (the estate recently settled)----This entailed such things as flying in copious amounts of Beluga, as well as that divine swing orchestra she and Rory heard in Paris.
She'd also ordered a lovely long-skirted couture evening suit from Chanel for the evening in delicious light-as-air shantung silk that was just the barest shade of blue. Rory and Lorelai would be in deeper, though differing, shades of blue silk chiffon—each a unique couture confection.
There hadn't been an event quite like this in years, and it'd be another ten before it's match could be met. Emily was reveling in just this thought.
For his part, Richard was happy for Emily to do this. A bit self-conscious about the vow renewal perhaps, but he would do anything now that he had Emily back in his life. Her pearl of a heart was just as precious to him as it ever was. Perhaps more so now that he'd almost lost it to the years of work, layered on top of worry, on top of growing old, on top of Lorelai's dramatics, and all the other things that can settle like dust in a marriage.
So the cake for this evening was going to be a masterpiece. It had to be. Photographers were coming from Harpers and Town and Country. And though a decade from now, nay, even a day from now, it would all be nothing but a memory in an album or a back issue, it would nonetheless still be a masterpiece---ephemeral, as all art must be.
So here it stood almost-finished before her now... The cake. Sookie was in the zone, oblivious to the morning's heat. There was nothing but cake and technique and experience merging together...
She leaned in, pastry bag and number six tip poised...
Now, most people use wooden dowels, cut to size, to anchor the layers. But Sookie would have none of that. No wooden sticks in her cakes! She uses specially handmade reeds of slightly softened hard candy, infused with the merest breath of liqueur, to secure her layers (a secret she guards fiercely.)
And, as Emily's chosen design featured looping and nesting bluebirds encircling this cake for four hundred, fondant would clearly need to be used rather than buttercream or royal. The thing is, though, most people do not care for the more sophisticated fondant flavor. A problem. Sookie resolved it, genius that she is, by carefully laying a layer of chocolate ganache over the entire cake and letting it set before then carefully layering marzipan, then the tinted fondant over all. This created an incredible taste (unique to her cakes) and anchored the layers together even more tightly.
You see, Sookie St. James feels that everything in a cake should be edible, nothing artificial or plastic or (shudder) wooden holding the layers together----Everything must be genuine. A complete commitment, if you will. This was a point of honor with her.
And now, to create the sugar-crystal bluebirds (sixty-five in all)....
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It was hot.
Rory Gilmore was stretched out on the Shaker four poster reading, having long given up trying to voice any opinion on any issue whatsoever to either her mother or grandmother. She was a bright girl after all.
The three Gilmore women were in the large guest room just off the head of the stairs checking and re-checking clothes and accessories for the evening ahead. Lorelai fretfully gazed out the window and down into the large back garden and lawn where the party rental people, under Michel's direction, were setting up tables, chairs, a wet bar replete with stools, a dance floor and orchestra stage, a sound system, a concert shell, and thousands of feet of twinkling lights, currently being looped about trees and any other vertical space available.
She really should get down there and help, the flower delivery would arrive any moment, but her mother was being her mother and talking about appropriate slips to wear under their dresses; appropriate strapless bras; the necessity of having extra stockings on hand; and the unsuitability of appearing in chiffon before five in the afternoon (as Biddy's granddaughter had done.) And, finally, how she'd die before anything rhinestone ever touched her body.
"Lorelai," Emily went on. And Lorelai knew by the tone alone that she did not want to hear what was about to follow.
"Lorelai," Emily began again, because she was far too clever to fall for Lorelai's 'I'm ignoring you' routine. "Elise will be here in fifteen minutes to cut your hair."
"What?! I don't want my hair cut, Mom," she turned from the window to whine.
"Nonsense. I insist. Your hair is nothing but wild. You have over-processed it to death. It is dull and those wide streaky hi-lights are unrealistic and cheap looking."
"Well, thanks a lot."
"No need to get defensive, Lorelai. I know you've had a difficult year. I imagine you had to go to some God-awful walk-in salon somewhere. But I'm having Elise come in from Fredericks' in the city to work her magic on you."
"Mom, I want my hair left alone!"
"Now, Lorelai, give me a chance. You're happy with the dresses I had made for you and Rory, aren't you?"
"Yes," Lorelai admitted reluctantly.
"And the diamond pendents?"
She sighed, "Yes."
"And you did promise to let me do things my way as this is my evening and I am, for all intents and purposes, a paying guest. Am I correct on this?"
"Yes, but..."
"Then give Elise a chance, Lorelai," Emily interrupted smoothly. "Do you want to look at pictures of this evening ten years from now and be horrified by your hair? Just a conditioning treatment maybe, then a trim. That's all I'm asking."
"That's all?" Lorelai asked suspiciously.
"Just conditioning, a trim, and balancing out the color, I promise."
"Wait a minute, you didn't say anything about color before!"
"Well, naturally I thought I made it clear about your streaky hi-lights a moment ago. Honestly, Lorelai, you make Gloria Steinam in nineteen-seventy-five look completely natural."
"Oh my God! It's that bad?" Lorelai turned quickly to look in the mirror. "Rory, is it that bad?" she asked her daughter, as she tried to look at the back of her own head.
"Well..." began Rory, looking up from her book tentatively, not wanting to be involved.
"Ah! Traitor!" Lorelai dramatically snapped at her.
"Sorry," mumbled Rory and returned to page fifty-six of The Veil.
"So," Emily went on, while ticking off on her fingers, "A conditioning treatment, a trim, balancing out the color, getting rid of some of those frizzy layers, and that should be it."
"My layers are not frizzy!"
"Knock, knock, may I come in?!"
They all turned to the slightly opened door.
"Elise! Thank you so much for coming," Emily greeted the young woman eagerly.
"A guy called Sam downstairs told me to come right up. I hope that was all right," said the stylish young woman as she began setting down the several carry bags she had draped about herself.
"That's fine," smiled Emily.
"Oh Emily, I am so excited for you," she then turned to squeeze the hand of her patroness, "My very best wishes."
"Well, thank you, dear."
"And this Inn–Heavenly!"
"Elise, this is my daughter Lorelai."
"Oh right! This is your Inn," said Elise with a smile at Lorelai.
Her hair looks pretty good, Lorelai had to grudgingly admit.
"Yes, it is. We've just opened this summer," she said.
"It's beautiful!"
"Well, thank you."
Emily grabbed Lorelai's chin then and tilted her head to varying angles.
"What do you think about this, Elise?"
"Ouch, Mom!" winced Lorelai.
"The layers have to go," pronounced Elise solemnly.
"That's what I thought!" Emily agreed triumphantly.
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It wasn't until well after lunch that Luke Danes had been able to get away from the diner and head over to Lorelai's to pick up the Chuppah. Apparently, upon Rory's suggestion, Emily had decided it was perfect for her extravaganza. He couldn't really see the point in vow renewal but, he guessed, the rich like an excuse to throw money around. And he was glad of the business it would surely bring Lorelai's way. But Geez already, did anyone really need to fly in an entire orchestra from Paris?
After Morrie helped him load and secure the Chuppah, he swiped his brow, got in and headed back through town. He'd had a crappy morning, but as he headed to The Dragonfly his mood buoyed a little. This was the second wedding the Chuppah would be used for, and it had held up well in the yard, he noted in some pride.
He perked up then. Sat up a little straighter in the driver's seat. Ran his hand unconsciously under his hat, smoothing his hair. He would see her in a matter of minutes and that would make his morning dissolve away. His diner full of crazy townies melted further and further away in his mind as he drove nearer and nearer to her.
No doubt about it, he had it bad. He sighed.
Luke pulled his truck carefully into the graveled Inn drive then. He didn't need the damn Chuppah to fall over and break at this point.
Lorelai had made a good decision he observed, in following Taylor's advice and popping for the layering of the gravel over the dirt drive—If maintained, it could easily last a good ten years before she'd have to re-do. Much as he hated to admit that Taylor had ever been right about anything, the dust problem was indeed gone while the old-fashioned look of the place remained intact.
He swung around the circle then, and shifted into park behind one of three large party-rental trucks from Hartford. Guys were scurrying like ants everywhere, arms full of equipment. Luke's eyes widened as he began to grasp the scale this event was going to be on. What the hell was Emily Gilmore staging here? An inaugural ball?
He got out of the truck and walked into The Dragonfly's lobby: Nobody in sight there, so he headed through and out onto the back porch and scanned the activity to catch a glimpse of Lorelai. What he saw instead was a set-up Barnum and Bailey would envy.
Geez. Luke just shook his head.
"Oh, Sookie," breathed Lorelai, as all the women stood about the kitchen table staring at the magnificent cake before them.
"Is it all right?" asked Sookie nervously.
They all gazed, mouths open, at the nine-tiered, five and half foot marvel before them. The smooth porcelain-like sky-blue undercoat was twisted about with what seemed to be actual vine-encrusted tree branches, scattered with perfectly detailed bluebirds perched in every conceivable bird-position: Singing, cooing, nesting, sleeping with wee sugared beaks tucked under wee sugared wings. Until, finally, at the cake's peak (where the tree branches broke away to reveal the fluffy-frosted sky,) two joyous birds, in flight no less, hovered. So great was Sookie's artistry that these bluebirds were clearly in love.
"Oh. My. God. Sook, you have outdone yourself," said Lorelai softly.
"Really?" asked Sookie hopefully. "Because I thought that using an actual tree stump as the base might be too much."
"Sookie, it's wonderful," added Rory in awe.
"Did you have Kirk take a picture of it?" asked Lorelai.
"Yeah, he left a few minutes ago," she nodded.
They all turned their heads then at a small sob followed by a sigh.
"Mom?" said Lorelai as she turned in amazement. "Are you crying?"
Emily sniffed and pulled a monogrammed handkerchief from her pocket. "No," she told them.
"Well, she is the bride!" grinned Rory.
Lorelai nodded and slipped her arm around her mother. "Tell Sookie how much you like her cake before she has a heart attack, Mom."
"Oh, right! Sorry!" said Emily as she recovered herself. "Sookie, it is absolutely perfect. If this doesn't get half a page in Harpers, there is no justice in the world."
Sookie broke into a wide relieved grin at that. "Okay ladies, have a seat. I have fresh lemonade or coffee—but given the heat, I know only Lorelai will go for that."
They all sat down gratefully then to admire the wonder that was The Cake.
"It's too beautiful to eat," commented Elise.
"But it'll be delicious when we do!" crowed Lorelai.
Sookie blushed as she served the drinks, then sat down herself.
"Oh, my God! Lorelai! Your hair!" exclaimed her friend.
"Is it okay?" asked Lorelai.
"It's incredible," oooh-ed Sookie, as she took in the glossy dark ringlets brushing Lorelai's shoulders and framing her face.
"When you have a break later, Sookie, come upstairs and let Elise work her magic on you," offered Emily as she sipped her lemonade, her eyes never leaving the edible art before them.
"Well, thank you, Emily. I might just do that," Sookie giggled.
"How are you doing, Sookie?" asked Lorelai then.
"Well, the staff will be here in half an hour, then things will really get exciting. But I'm ready for it!"
"Good girl," smiled Lorelai into her sip.
"Sookie," said Elise thoughtfully, "What sort of cake would you create for an evening wedding at a jazz club for a bride who adores Billie Holiday?"
"Hmmm..." Sookie reflected. "Tall, seven layers dripping in shining dark chocolate ganache, an enormous corsage of edible gardenias as the crown."
"Oh, my!" gasped Elise. "That would be perfect."
"Are you engaged, Elise?" asked Lorelai into her coffee sip.
"No," answered Elise.
"Ah," nodded Lorelai in understanding.
"Oh, I want to play!" said Rory now, clapping her hands in excitement. "What about a springtime morning wedding in a meadow, lunches served in picnic baskets on quilts?—Oh, and violets everywhere!"
"Oh Rory! Not the cathedral downtown, then?" asked Emily sadly.
"Five large offset layers, each draped in a different fondant 'quilt'—The double wedding ring pattern at the top, of course," said Sookie without hesitation.
The ladies gave a long Oooo! in appreciative unison.
"She's a frickin' savant," said Lorelai with a shake of her head.
"What about you, Lorelai? Don't you want a turn?" asked Elise.
"No. I don't really have a dream wedding scenario," Lorelai admitted.
"What? Of course you do, everyone does!" Elise said in disbelief.
"Not me!" laughed Lorelai. "I'm getting a little old for that, I think."
"I'll tell you what I always dreamed for her," said Emily, a far-off gaze clouding her eyes.
"Mom..." groaned Lorelai in protest.
"Lorelai's wedding, ladies:" began Emily dramatically, "A recreation of The Winter Palace in St. Petersburg. Snow everywhere. Lorelai arrives in a silver sleigh by moonlight. A thousand candles burning..."
"Can't you just see Luke there?" Sookie giggled to Rory.
"Well, the flannel would keep him warm," Rory observed.
"Who's Luke?" asked Elise.
"The current potential groom, who'll be serving everyone fries at the reception," answered Emily dolefully.
"Mom!" barked Lorelai angrily.
"Oh, hey Luke!" said Sookie as she arose nervously.
All the ladies snapped their heads to the kitchen entrance then where Luke now stood, his expression unreadable.
Lorelai got to her feet quickly, spilling her coffee en route. Rory jumped to mop it up with a napkin before it hit the cake.
"Hey," Luke replied and then nodded to the other women. "Cake's beautiful, Sookie," he added.
"Thanks, Luke. Would you like some lemonade? It's awfully hot out," she offered.
"No, thanks. I was just looking for Lorelai here to tell me where to set up the Chuppah," he said looking Lorelai in the eye.
"Um, sure.... Come on," she said as she led him out, "Aren't you hot, Luke? Maybe you should take off the plaid. Dressing in layers in this weather is not really a good...---"
They women listened as her nervous babble trailed off.
"Oh dear," sighed Emily.
"Not good, Grandma," Rory agreed sadly, "It took him a decade to even ask her out, now it'll be another ten years before he works up to proposing, thanks to us."
And they all sat in silence a moment at that.
Until suddenly, Sookie burst forth...
"Got it! Yeah.... So: Simple private ceremony at City Hall in the autumn. Reception for all at The Diner after with all Luke's specialties (burgers, meatloaf, etc.) Cake: Cinnamon and Mocha layered coffee cake, of course; Four square layers; Maple sugar glaze frosting, and piped buttecream, alternating; Little plastic Bride and Groom Garden Gnomes on the top—Luke'll hate it. She'll make him do it, unless she compromises with just marzipan acorns and mushrooms. I'd be willing to bet that Lorelai'd get both out of him, though. There'll a carrot groom's cake on the side, too..."
And all the women could really do is stare at her after that.
"Oh, I almost forgot..." added Sookie after a moment.
"The ice cream?" asked Rory.
"Right," she nodded.