Only those who are actively involved can relate to a certain type of tiredness. It’s not physical exhaustion. It’s the specific fatigue that sets in around month four of wedding planning, when every decision — down to whether the soup course should be butternut squash or roasted tomato — feels like it carries the weight of an international summit. That was where Priya found herself last October, sitting at her kitchen table with a catering contract, three conflicting opinions from her mother, and a menu that still somehow managed to please nobody.
So she did what a growing number of couples seem to be doing quietly, without much fanfare: she opened ChatGPT and typed a single, slightly desperate sentence. “Assist me in organizing a 130-person wedding menu. South Asian family, some vegans, two diabetics, one severe nut allergy, and a groom who won’t eat mushrooms.”
A generic checklist was not what was returned. It had a four-course format, three separate stations for the cocktail hour, recommended wine pairings that were within their budget, and an unprompted suggestion that the dessert selection should include both a traditional element and something lighter for guests who would be dining late. Priya gazed at the screen for a considerable amount of time. “It thought of things I hadn’t,” she later remarked. “Things my caterer hadn’t either.”
Although the precise number of couples utilizing AI tools in this manner is still unknown, anecdotal evidence is mounting. ChatGPT has quietly made its way onto the vendor shortlist for a particular kind of detail-oriented, slightly overwhelmed bride or groom, according to wedding forums, planning blogs, and even professional catering consultants. As something in between a research assistant and a considerate friend who happens to be very knowledgeable about food, rather than as an exact substitute for a professional.
On paper, the menu that ChatGPT assisted Priya in creating wasn’t particularly innovative. Chilled cucumber yoghurt soup to open. The caterer was impressed when she brought in a slow-roasted lamb and a jackfruit substitute that the AI specifically recommended because it held up well under banquet heating conditions. Saffron rice, charred broccolini, three desserts including a cardamom panna cotta that became, somewhat unexpectedly, the most talked-about thing at the reception. Guests were asking what it was before the plates had even been cleared.
What’s interesting — and perhaps a little unsettling to the catering industry — is how methodically the AI approached constraints that human planners sometimes gloss over. The nut allergy was flagged across every course. The diabetic guests had clearly demarcated options noted within the menu briefing document that Priya then handed directly to her caterer. AI doesn’t seem to grow weary of cross-referencing the way people do. By the time it reaches dessert, the diabetics are still taken into consideration.
However, Priya is the first to claim that ChatGPT helped her properly consider her wedding menu rather than actually planning it. The tasting was still hers to attend. She closed her eyes and imagined her grandmother consuming the cardamom panna cotta, which led her to make the final decision. That cannot be replicated by any language model. However, in the midst of a hundred conflicting viewpoints, sometimes the most important thing is a single, unbiased voice that asks the right questions without having an emotional stake in the result. An AI seemed to be quite adept at that on a Tuesday night in October.
