2003-11-10 - 11:58 a.m. my love affair with marzipan After running off to City Hall in a pale green 1920s beaded silk sheath confection of a dress to marry my college sweetheart (an event not even my mother would have been optimistic enough to have hoped for), you�d think my wedding reception guests would have been expecting a less than traditional wedding reception feast. The invitation, designed by a friend as our wedding gift and featuring anemones spilling out of art deco platinum-rimmed cocktail glasses, invited the guest to either a cocktail reception in our apartment in the City or to the family gathering in Santa Barbara. Wisely, I gave up and left the family reception planning in the hands of my mother-in-law. The reception the City, on the other hand, was designed exclusively for my delight, and for the amusement of our closest friends. Hence the princess cake. Although my new husband slaved over the mushroom terrine and a magnificent cheese plate, all anyone could look at was the huge satiny-smooth pale green domed princess cake that dominated the buffet console. �That�s your wedding cake?� guests asked, pointing at it as though they were unsure of its edible qualities, perhaps due to its color. I quickly realized none of my guests were acquainted with princess cake, and, most likely, thought marzipan was some sort of culinary modeling clay used to make decorative � but inedible � fake fruits for holiday table decorations. Although it has made inroads in the past few years, in large part due to Martha Stewart�s wedding cakes, at the time it was less than common. I pulled my husband aside and warned him of my suspicions, and obtained his word he�d not let the cat out of the bag as to the cake�s contents, to avoid sending our less adventuresome guests, such as my mother -- a woman known for cooking almost exclusively from boxes containing more processed food products than actual food � from running out the door before dessert. When we cut into the cake, the layers of beautiful white sponge cake, whipped cream, and raspberry jam were revealed. Our guests eyed the green dome that held the layers together. Finally, someone asked what it was. �It�s princess cake. And since I�ve gotten married, you must do as I wish � and I wish you to eat your cake. So there!� with that, I toasted my guests, and they dutifully ate the cake. Afterwards, as we sat opening gifts and drinking more champagne, the friend asked again about the cake�s velvety green cloak. As expected, when I confessed to it being the mixture of almond paste and sugar known as marzipan here in the United States, the friend made a face, and proclaimed he wouldn�t have eaten it if he had known what it was. After all, he was certain he hated marzipan. His assertion made me laugh, for I too had said something as rash only a few years earlier, when I�d first spotted a slice of the cake in my favorite bakery�s cake case with my future husband in tow. He�d been trying to get me to try marzipan for several years at that point since it had long been his favorite confection, but I was certain I didn�t like almonds and had thus always refused. He took pride in telling me what I had eaten after I had exclaimed over its perfection, though he did so from a safe distance, and under the watchful eye of the baker. From that day forth, I sought out ways to include marzipan accents wherever possible. That princess cake, the marzipan of its shell long a symbol of remembrance and associated with religious feasts from the Day of the Dead in Mexico to Easter feasts in Southern Italy, will forever symbolize for me the sweet rewards of putting your trust in the hands of a good friend. Sources: Herbst, Sharon Tyler, Food Lover�s Companion, Barron�s Educational Series. Martha Stewart Living Weddings. The Oxford Companion to Food. Plotkin, Fred, Italy for the Gourmet Traveler, Little, Brown and Company. �Sacred Sweets� on the Waitrose Food Illustrated magazine Web site at www.waitrose.com/wfi/ My first assignment in my food writing class. To be ripped to shreds by the class in a few short hours. any comments? (3 so far) previous - next recently on almostgoldsf... in defense of an email box I came to do battle with SPAM - 2008-05-17 hello 2006 - 2005-12-31 Happy Thanksgiving - 2005-11-14 bon voyage - 2005-11-05 October already? - 2005-10-09