KARA: When fantasizing about my wedding, I’d always imagined sitting down with a glamorous Michelin-type chef and discussing duck confit, quail eggs, and foie gras. She’d suggest caviar; I’d rally back with carpaccio. No leaden menu card with mundane choices for Brian and me. We’d have five finely-tuned courses designed to amaze and intrigue. The guests would marvel at our epicurean savvy.
But my family members imagine things differently. My grandfather thinks “carpaccio” is the last name of someone he served with “in the Big One.” My dad has vetoed duck: “Who eats duck anyway?” And my mother is a lost cause.
“Mom,” I explained over the phone last night, as she pressured me on menu choices (for the menu card enclosed with the invitation), “Brian and I are not sure if we even want to give people choices, beyond vegetarian.”
“Well, we’re not spending this kind of money to cater to people who only eat vegetables. Let them eat salad. You give people a choice: fish, beef, chicken. That’s what’s right.” And then the kicker: “It’s what’s done.”
“Yes, at my senior prom!”
“Who are we trying to impress?”