Weddings: Barbra's Wedding Barbecue

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What greater gift can a mother receive than her daughter's approval of a wedding reception that was planned long distance over a year's time?  Just this, not only was I proud and pleased to serve as Mother of the Bride, but my own dear daughter chose me above all of her much loved friends to be Matron of Honor. 

Imagine sixteen feet of buffet table draped with crisp white linen, topped with a puddled, shimmering ecru fabric that hid bricks, boxes, and a large milk crate. 

These were all devoted to adding dimension, dimension, dimension, and lifting or tilting each enticing dish.  My daughter is a graduate of Florida State University with a business degree in Hospitality Management.  She clearly learned a trick or two there. 

We offered barbecued chicken and pork ribs, corn puddin', baked beans, potato salad, green beans, cheese straws, a colorful fruit tray, dill pickle spears, and potato chips, all served in either silver or crystal.  Well, to be honest, we may have used some silver-plated serving dishes and simple glassware, but the effect was lovely. 

To this day Barbra is teased for serving the pickles and chips in huge crystal bowls.  But that made "no never mind" to her.  Her comment as she first entered the glass walled reception hall sitting smack on the edge of Florida's Intracoastal Waterway and overlooking the tidal marsh from which the Golden Isles garner their name, was, "Mom, it's so … magical." 

The barbecue was smoked by several “good ole boys.”  The head good ole boy wore a red apron proudly proclaiming that he was The Love Chef! 

We used 24 inch white tapered candles, festooned the tables with ivy and white flowers, decked the trees with twinkling lights and votive candles dangling in clear glass spaghetti sauce jars – who knew?  

The three-tiered wedding cake was crowned with the statue of kissing angels Barbra had received in childhood. 

The flower girls passing out scented, dried rose tussie mussies I'd made as favors for our departing guests. 

There was a handmade swing with the couple’s initials carved on the seat.  Its ropes were braided with boxwood for the perfect photo opportunity – she sat, he stood beside her. 

With the generous help of many devoted and half-crazed friends of my own, we put together the benchmark by which local weddings are still measured.  On their honeymoon postcard, Mark, the groom, wrote, "It was the best time of my life." 

I think it fair to say that Miss Scarlett herself would have been jealous of Barbra's Barbecue.  Besides, unlike the heroine of Gone With The Wind, my beautiful Barbra and her handsome groom got to eat at their barbecue feast! 

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