Huff - Layered: baking, building, and styling spectacular cakes

For Everett JamesDream big, baby boy.

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

Its a Sweet Life

WHENEVER ANYONE ASKS ME how I got started baking, theres an expectation for me to describe myself with flour-dusted chubby cheeks, a mini apron, and admiring eyes watching my grandmother bake from heirloom recipes in a cinnamon-scented kitchen. This was not the case. It wasnt until my last year of college that I made my first cake, with canned frosting and a plastic zip-top piping bag, but I have always wished for a more enticing story.

However, if I really think about it, food and cooking have always been an influential part of my family and culture. I come from a family with diverse backgrounds. My fathers strong German roots and Midwestern upbringing mixed with my mothers Hawaiian ancestry and Puerto Rican flair resulted in a colorful and creative household for both me and my older brother. Driving many of my parents stories and teachings were lessons of ambition, community, and cuisine.

Even though I dont have the coveted memories of baking with Grandma as a child, her culinary influence found its way into many of my recipes anyway. Rich in culture but not in purse, my maternal grandmother was an original DIY-er, not because it was trendy, but because she had to be. She cooked, sewed, taught herself how to reupholster furniture, and balanced a job while being a mom with a husband attending night school. Although they were not exceedingly wealthy, my grandparents were very generous. The neighborhood kids knew that if they showed up to the house in the afternoon, my grandmother would make them a treat. She saved the good ingredients for special occasions, leaving my mom with many memories of cookies made with orange extract because it was cheaper than the pure vanilla. But with birthdays came homemade, deep-fried corn dogs and extravagant cakesgiving my mom and her siblings something to look forward to.

Almost all of my memories from my maternal grandfathers side of the family revolve around food. Fittingly, my great-grandfather first came to Hawaii from the Philippines to work at a sugar mill. My grandfather was born and raised in a tiny rural village on the North Shore of Oahu. Although he left the islands at age eighteen and raised his family in California, our Hawaiian roots run oceans deep. With three small kids, he went to night school and worked toward becoming a civil engineer in order to fly them all back to Hawaii each summer. My parents kept this tradition alive, and I plan to teach my children about their culture rich in food, family, and tradition.

Although my brother and I are the hapa (half-Caucasian) cousins, every time we visit Hawaii we quickly fall into the island rhythm. You may be thinking umbrella drinks and resort pools, but my Hawaii is another story. My summers were made up of eating Kahuku watermelon at the local beach, haupia (coconut pudding) pie, salty skin, sunburns, and potluck dinners spent in the carport because no one had air-conditioning. I learned hula from my cousins and would string leis with my auntiesall while sharing stories, laughs, and memories of how our family came to be. The island life explains my appetite for passion fruit- and mango-inspired desserts, but it also taught me a lot of respect for unique flavors and unfamiliar foods.

My fathers side of the family is much different. He was born to affluent, well-educated parents working in the motor vehicle industry of Detroits heyday. The photos of his childhood home, the extravagant holiday parties, and my paternal grandparents elaborate seven-tier wedding cake were picture-perfect. And while everything seemed flawless, they had more than their fair share of tragedy. My grandmother passed away when my dad was only a teenager. While I never had the chance to meet her, I did inherit her entrepreneurial spirit. She graduated from the University of Michigan in the 1940s before founding her own company. I thought I was ambitious when I started the Frosted Cake Shop when I was twenty-four, but that does not compare to how brilliant my grandmother was in business. While this part of our family history is tragic, had it not been written this way, my father may not have accepted a job across the country, where he met my mother.

Beyond my annual experiments decorating Christmas cookies as a kid, I only went into the kitchen to practice pirouettes and tap routines on the hardwood floor. While I had the dedication to spend hours each day at the ballet barre, I never had the patience for baking or any interest in cooking. However, I was being immersed in different types of food and global cuisine without even realizing it. My dad traveled a lot for work and found it important to introduce us kids to different cultures. In Tokyo we discovered chestnut paste noodles, in Sydney I first tried Turkish delight, and at Harrods Department Store in London I was mesmerized by the fruit-shaped marzipan. These influences gradually seeped into my culinary toolbox, but it wasnt until college that I started using them to manipulate ingredients and create my own flavor pairings.

The only entertaining television programs that aired between my college classes and dance team practice were cooking shows. I started watching and thought, I can do that. I began writing down recipes and testing them out on my roommates. As it turns out, I was pretty good at it. The first cakes I ever made were for Christmas in 2005. With finals approaching, none of us had the time, money, or insight to go out shopping for thoughtful gifts. Instead, I bought my first set of cake pans and planned to make individual cakes for my friends. I used boxed cake mix and canned frosting, and steadily wrote their names in icing with a piping bag made from a plastic zip-top bag. There was something special about those cakes. My roommates and I were already pretty close, but as we sat digging into the chocolate frosting, laughing, and relishing one anothers company before winter break, I saw the power that cake had on community and knew that it was the start of something new.

With rich family ties rooted in food, coupled with the discipline of my ballet background, I suppose its no coincidence that I found passion in pastry. Requiring a similar level of dedication and attention to detail, cake design became my new creative outlet after I quit dancing. While many of my peers were becoming doctors, therapists, and nurses, I was playing with buttercream and sugar. I quickly became that girl with the cookies, cupcakes, and pastries at any celebration, holiday, or even weeknight gathering. I took the night shift at a local bakery, filling and icing layer cakes, before pursuing my dream to start my own custom cake boutique.

I opened the Frosted Cake Shop in Sacramento, California, in 2008, where I serviced an array of loyal clients, weddings, and community events. With only the help of my family and husband, it was pretty much a one-woman show. The business was small and intimate, but I wouldnt have had it any other way. I enjoyed working with my clients from concept to completion and seeing what joy cake can bring to someones life. I will always cherish the rewarding memories of giddy brides seeing their cakes for the first time.