This story originally appeared in the March 31, 2011, issue of The Trussville Tribune…
Heads up, ladies! It’s that time of year again. With spring and summer weddings in the offing, the 2011 Bridal Tea Season has begun. If you haven’t already received scads of invitations in the mail, look for them to arrive soon. And if they don’t, well, you must have licked your fingers or done something equally offensive at the last bridal tea you attended, and word got around.
A Southern female tradition of the highest order, the Sunday afternoon bridal tea is a chance to see and be seen by the cream of your social crop. It’s also prime time for catching up on local gossip, checking out the latest in crock pots and china patterns, and sharpening your motor skills by juggling a dessert plate, fork, punch cup and handbag while managing to carry on a conversation and remain upright in heels at the same time.
My initiation into the world of bridal teas came at age five, when my Aunt Bibby was about to marry my to-be Uncle Doug. Since I was the eldest niece – and because the only other niece at the time was two years old and lived in California – I was appointed to collect gifts at the door.
Well, that lasted about ten minutes. I found it the most boring job imaginable, especially since the gifts were for somebody else. And who wanted a vegetable slicer or set of bath towels, anyway? I cared neither for vegetables nor baths very much in those days, so those items seemed useless to me.
Relieved of duty, I happily spent the afternoon ducking around grown-ups’ legs and crawling under the dining room table to get to the petit four side. There’s no telling how many of those things I ate, but I clearly remember suffering a terrific stomachache on the way home.
As badly as that first attempt to draw me into the world of bridal teas went, matters eventually improved. When I was growing up, Mama was always serving as a hostess at one bridal tea or another, and on occasion, she still does. So with such an example, I couldn’t help but learn the ropes at a fairly early age.
The first tea I helped with took place at our house when I was about thirteen. Dressed at the height of early 1970s fashion in a pale pink knit dress with hair teased to kingdom come, I stood for two solid hours at the south end of the dining room table behind Mama’s silver tea service. As the guests, invariably clad in pastels and pearls, teetered past the nuts, mints and petit fours, I poured coffee for all I was worth.
Yes, coffee, not tea. Nobody ever served tea at a tea in those days because nobody in the South back then drank any kind of tea that wasn’t poured over ice into a former jelly jar. It just wasn’t right. In fact, I was half-grown before I knew there was such a thing as hot tea, and even older before I knew anybody who actually drank it.
But my, how bridal teas have changed! Not only do the liquid refreshments now frequently include tea (iced and hot), the array of food is far more extensive than the cake-nuts-mints menu of my era. At a recent affair, I chowed down on tiny chicken salad-filled pastries, mini heart-shaped brownies, chocolate-dipped strawberries and spicy cheese straws dipped in salsa. If I’d known an entire meal was going to be served, I would have skipped lunch.
After a feast like that, I was tempted to lick my fingers, but the thought of what could happen helped me resist. Being struck from The Official Bridal Tea Invitation List, never to be served another heart-shaped brownie or spicy cheese straw… I’m not sure I could bear it. On the other hand, if it meant spending springtime Sunday afternoons in shorts and t-shirts as opposed to dresses and high heels, I might not mind at all.
Somewhere in the Middle 