A Trifle of a Wedding

I was unemployed in the spring of 1992.  Much like the current recession, jobs were hard to come by.  So I was trying to supplement my unemployment income by doing some catering.

It so happened that two friends of mine from church, Tap and Semaj (the names have been loosely disguised to protect the guilty), were getting married in May.  And they asked me if I would consider catering their wedding, and of course I agreed.

Now, catering a wedding for 125 people was going to be a lot of work, and I wasn't going to be able to do it all myself.  However, Tap had a solution for me - she would provide me with friends and family as helping hands, so I would not have to hire helpers, and could give her a better price.  I agreed to that solution.

Tap and Semaj wanted the food at their reception to celebrate the multi-ethnic culture of Montreal.  There were some ethnic foods that they wanted me to simply buy from the places that make them best - knishes from the Brown Derby (which is now, sadly, defunct), samosas from Tap's favorite Indian place in Park Ex where she had lived - and others that she wanted me to make.  The menu for the reception (which was held in the lovely home and garden of a friend of theirs) was as follows:

Served upon arrival at the reception:
Cheese platter with homemade baguettes (white, whole wheat, and rye)

Served at the meal:
Fiddlehead salad (fiddleheads, cauliflower, and carrots, cooked and cooled, with an olive oil and wine vinegar dressing)
Knishes (Jewish turnover with a savory filling)
Italian meatballs with tomato sauce
Spanakopita (Greek spinach pie)
Samosas (Indian stuffed fried pastry)

Punch:
Cranberry cocktail and club soda with raspberry sherbet  (this was the only thing we ran out of, because it ended up being quite hot for May, and people drank more than I had expected)

Dessert:
English trifle

So although we bought knishes and samosas, I had to bake bread for 125 people, make the salad (and I will have you know that I drove up to Mascouche to the Reesors' farm, and picked the fiddleheads on the banks of their river), as well as the meatballs, spanakopita, and trifle.  And as most of these were quite complicated,  Tap provided me with family members who were in town for the wedding, as per our arrangement.

And so, the day before the wedding, we were making the trifle.  If I recall correctly, I had rented five enormous bowls to make the trifle in.  Now trifle, as you know, begins with plain sponge cake that is split in two, spread with jam, and then sprinkled with sherry or some other liqueur.  (Tap had a bottle of Frangelico, which is hazelnut liqueur, that someone had given her and she wanted to use.)  You then put fruit on top of the cake, cover everything with a layer of vanilla custard and a layer of whipped cream, and then do the same thing all over again, alternating layers until the bowl is filled.

There was just one teensy problem with assembling the trifle that day.  And that problem was that two of the people who were there that day to help us were Tap's mother and sister.  Now, Momma Tap and her sister were Mennonites from the Prairies, and they were both teetotalers.  They would have been horrified to see any amount of booze, no matter how small and insignificant, going into the trifle.  So Tap and I had to come up with a plan to douse the cake with the Frangelico without her mother and sister seeing.

The trifles were being assembled in the dining room, which was down a short hallway from the kitchen - just far enough so that, if you were in the kitchen, you couldn't see everything going on in the dining room.  And also in the dining room was a linen closet, which was not visible from the kitchen.  And there was a shelf in the dining room tall enough for the bottle of Frangelico.  So that is where we hid it.

And now, of course, we had to find a pretext to send Tap's mother and sister out of the dining room.  The fruit we were using for the trifle was bananas and canned peaches, and there were quite a few cans of peaches and a lot of bananas.  So I gave them the task of opening, draining, and slicing the canned peaches, and of slicing the bananas.  I may have given them other tasks, too, like whipping the cream.

And now is when Operation Trifle kicked into high gear.  Tap and I split the cake lengthwise and spread it with raspberry jam, and then cut it into squares, and lined the bottom of the big bowls with it.  Then we called out to Mom and Sister, "How are you two doing in there?" and they replied, "Oh, just fine!"  Satisfied that they were sufficiently occupied, we hurriedly opened the closet door, pulled out the bottle of liqueur, sprinkled it all over the first layer of cake, and then quickly hid the Frangelico back in the linen closet. The whole thing was very frantic, and it was all we could do to keep from bursting into peals of laughter.  As more layers were added to the trifle, the same thing was repeated.  I think the bowls were big enough for three or four total layers.  I'm not sure how we kept Tap's mother and sister busy that whole time, but whenever we were ready to douse the cake with the liqueur, they managed to be out of the room, and we repeated our antics.

At the wedding, people simply raved about the trifle, and applauded Tap and Semaj's decision to forgo traditional wedding cake.  And many of them said, "Your trifle is so good!  What makes is so special?"  I, of course, demurred, and pretended it was a professional secret.  But Tap and I exchanged knowing glances, and a wink or two.  The trifle was perfect, and her relatives never knew why.

English trifle

Yellow Sponge cake, baked in a sheet pan
Raspberry or strawberry jam
Sherry or some other liqueur (such as Frangelico or Amaretto)
Sliced peaches (canned or fresh)
Sliced bananas
Fresh berries, if desired (raspberries, strawberries, or blueberries)
Vanilla custard
Sweetened whipped cream
Slivered nuts (hazelnuts or almonds)

Now, it's hard to give exact proportions for trifle, and it doesn't really matter, anyway.  It mostly depends on the size of the bowl you'll be making it in. You'll want a large, straight-sided glass bowl for your trifle.

Split the cake into two layers, spread the bottom layer with jam, and replace the top layer.  Cut the cake into two-inch cubes.

Arrange the cake cubes in the bottom of the trifle bowl.  Sprinkle the cake with the sherry or liqueur.  (It's better to err on the side of too much than too little - sponge cake can be a bit dry by itself.)  Now, cover the cake with the fruit.  (By all means, feel free to substitute other fruits if you so desire.  Pineapple, kiwi, pears, or mangoes would all be good.) 

Now, cover the fruit and cake with vanilla custard.  For the vanilla custard, if you are feeling ambitious, you can make a crème anglaise, which is a cooked custard with egg yolks that is very delicious.  It's also a pain to make, in my opinion, and I'm just as happy to use instant vanilla pudding, or Bird's Custard.  (I'm not sure how available Bird's Custard is in the U.S.A.  It's an instant custard mix, widely available in England and Canada, that is quite an acceptable - and foolproof - alternative to crème anglaise.)  If you're doing it right, the custard should cover the fruit, and drip down in between the cracks between the pieces of cake.

Sprinkle the custard with chopped or slivered nuts.  Cover the whole thing with a layer of sweetened whipped cream.

And now, repeat the entire process until your bowl is filled.  The bowl I use holds about three layers of trifle.  At the end, you can decorate the top with some fresh berries and a few slivered nuts.

When you serve the trifle, be sure to dip the spoon in deep, in order to get some of everything.

Oh, and Tap and Semaj are still dear friends, after all these years, and have two lovely children.  Tap's mother has gone on to her reward.  But Tap and I still have the occasional giggle about making trifle.