I Wish I Met Merrill Before I Said, "I Do"

A personal account of a bride's struggle to find a caterer who cared about food as much as she did...

Four years ago, under the canopy of trees in my backyard, on a crisp autumn evening, I said, “I do” to the love of my life, Matt. Grinning from ear to ear and tears welling in up in my eyes, we walked hand in hand to our warmly lit, incredibly large, tent to get the party started. We danced our way across the beautiful ambiance to our seats where our minutes old marriage was immediately tested.

The caterer – who will go unnamed – brought out watery bisque, raw chicken, dry braised short ribs and proceeded to break my sister’s wedding gift – an engraved Irish crystal champagne flute. Oh, Merrill, why didn’t I meet you earlier?

No, I didn’t want to leave my husband; I wanted to leave my caterer. Matt and I were on a strict wedding budget because we footed the bill. After crunching the numbers, we came to the conclusion that we could splurge on one item. We are diehard foodies - well above fashionistas and florists - so we went with food, glorious food. Lured by the promise of perfection on a plate and choreographed service, we signed on the dotted line. Oh, Merrill, why didn’t I meet you earlier?

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