I didn’t set out to be a baker—I set out to make things happen. First, it was birthday cakes when store-bought wasn’t an option. Grab a box mix, cross my fingers, and hope for the best. But what started as survival? Turned into obsession.
Then my kids got ideas. Big, dramatic, completely illogical ideas. Life-sized baseball cakes, chaotic towers covered in zebra stripes and feathers. The decorating? Questionable. The flavors? Unstoppable.
Then came the bake sales. Sugar-fueled marathons of trays disappearing before I could even set them down. Somewhere between the brownie stacks and the wild cake experiments, I realized baking wasn’t just something I did—it was who I was.
Now, after years of sugar, flour, and figuring things out as I go, I’m retired, watching my grown kids chase their dreams, welcoming grandbabies, and finally diving headfirst into what I love most—crafting bold, indulgent, stuffed-to-the-max sweets that make people stop, grin, and come back for more.
Because dessert should never be ordinary. And if I’m doing it? It never will be.