Cake Tales: The Red Shoes

Two days before Christmas, I received a phone call from a man enquiring about wedding cakes.  Tony explained that his mother had made the cakes and he needed someone to ice and decorate the cakes.  It was also the ‘one thing’ that he had to do for the wedding.  We had a brief chat about design options, I put them together in an email and sent them directly to Tony. 

Christmas came and went and the new year kicked in.  I received a phone call from Seyche (such a beautiful name) Tony’s fiance, to discuss the wedding cake.  The wedding was on the Saturday before Valentine’s Day and the cakes were made by Tony’s mother in Ireland.

 When we spoke I asked whether the wedding had a theme as such, or a particular colour running through the wedding décor.  Seyche informed me that there wasn’t a theme.  Then she casually slipped in “but I’m wearing red shoes”, when she mentioned the red shoes that I got the ‘cake makers twitch’ and became very excited.  My first thought was to wrap each cake with scarlet satin ribbon.  Seyche seemed so calm and relaxed about the wedding (the best way a bride-to-be should be), it was lovely chatting with her on the phone.  Seyche opted for fresh flowers to be placed on top of the cake. 

Just under two weeks before the wedding, Seyche and Tony arrived with the girls (the cakes).  It was fantastic to finally meet them both as they handed over the cakes.  When I came to marzipan the cakes I was in cake heaven.  The cakes came in individual cake tins.  Inside each cake tin was a cake lovingly wrapped with greaseproof paper and foil…But even with such precise wrapping you could smell the most divine cake concoction – rich fruit, spices and Irish Whiskey (Tony’s mother could teach me a thing or two about fruitcake ,methinks).  I peeled the wrapping open to reveal two gorgeously moist cakes.  The guests were going to be in for a treat.  I covered the cakes with marzipan, then iced the cakes. I hoped that I did justice to Tony’s mother’s cakes.

Two days before the wedding, Seyche arrived to pick up the cake.  She was thrilled with what I done.  It was lovely to see that she had all the joy and excitement of a bride-to-be.  We hugged, I wished her well, and off she went to deliver the cake at Soho House, where the wedding reception was being held.

A day before the wedding I touched based with Seyche and Tony’s wedding photographer Brendan O’Sullivan.  “It’s an odd request,” I sheepishly asked “But please can you take a shot of her shoes.”

The famous red shoes.

Saturday 12th February was a crisp, bright day.  It was as if Spring was flirting with us and giving us a sneak preview.  I knew what time Seyche and Tony were getting married and hoped the weather would ‘behave’, just for them. 

Mondays are always brightened up for me by emails or phone calls from people who have received and enjoyed their cakes from the weekend before.  In my inbox I received some stunning cake photos from Brendan, plus one of Tony & Seyche cutting their cake.  Naturally I was delighted. 

Tony & Seyche cutting their wedding cake.

Seyche & Tony's cake topped with red roses.

 

This week I received a card with an image of Tony & Seyche on the cover, newly married and casually walking through Soho together. 

The card reads:

“Dear Cynthia,

 Thank you.  The cake was fabulous and went down a storm.  We absolutely loved it.  Photos to follow. 

Love Seyche & Tony

Seyche & Tony strolling through Soho.

 

I’ve since received these gorgeous pics of their wedding day.

Seyche and Tony were married at Marylebone Registry Office, Central London.

 

Congratulations!

 

Red Shoes

 

Red Choos!

 

Credits:

Brendan O’Sullivan photography

Tony’s mother for her fabulous fruit cake.

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About Delights by Cynthia

I have a cake business and love all things sweet. I also empower and encourage women to start and develop their businesses and creative projects...Basically, equipping them to pursue their passions.
This entry was posted in Baking, Cakes, Colour, London, Wedding, Wedding Cake. Bookmark the permalink.

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