One Year. Baking Out Loud

One year ago, I decided to bake out loud. Not perfectly. Not confidently. But consistently.

That was the commitment. Not to have it all figured out; but to show up anyway, in a way I had spent a long time shying away from.

Showing up looked like getting back to my writing and refusing to talk myself out of it. It looked like sharing more of my culture and adding my voice to the story of Grenada. It looked like growing publicly, letting the mistakes and imperfections live on camera because the reality of being in the kitchen includes failure, and pretending otherwise wouldn’t have been honest or useful to anyone watching.

I showed up when I was unsure. I figured things out as I went. I committed to failing, learning, getting back up, and doing it all again.

I didn’t try. I committed.

What Changed Me

Confidence

My confidence in the kitchen wasn’t always where it needed to be. There were moments I looked for support and didn’t find much. So I decided I was going to get better — on my own terms, through repetition and refusing to stop.

Because black cake is so traditional and so important, I was genuinely petrified to make it. When I finally shared my banana bread with my family and they told me it was amazing — that lit a fire. When they started requesting it and making sure I showed up with one, I knew my baking was going somewhere real. And when my aunt paid me for not one but two black cakes? That told me I was trusted with a bake steeped in culture and tradition. These moments didn’t just change how I bake. They changed how I see what I’m capable of.

Creativity

Confidence and creativity grew together. The more I trusted myself in the kitchen, the more I wanted to push further. That’s how the Grenadian Flavors series started; I was scrolling, saw donuts, wanted them, and immediately started thinking about how to bring Grenada into them. That curiosity opened something up. Playing with flavors, trusting my instincts, finding ways to blend the roots of who I am with the city that’s become a second home. Baking started to feel like it had limitless possibilities. And I intend to explore all of them.

Connection

There were moments during my writing this year where I doubted my connection to home. I left Grenada at a young age, and even though I returned almost every year, there was a part of me that didn’t feel fully connected. But baking the treats that remind me of my grandmother — the ones that take me straight back to my childhood — closed that distance in a way I didn’t expect. Writing about Grenada, telling those stories publicly, reconnecting to those memories without fear; I’m glad I trusted myself to keep going, even through the moments I wasn’t sure I should.

What I’m Proud Of

I stepped out of my comfort zone and stayed there.

I found my voice; fully, unapologetically, and stopped being afraid of the space it takes up.

I stopped shrinking my story, my experience, and my perspective.

I grew in public. And growing in public is not easy. It requires being comfortable with failing where everyone can see it, the bakes that went wrong, the presentations that weren’t ideal, posting anyway. I did that.

And what I’m most proud of: I learned the value of what I’m sharing. The bakes, the experience, the tips and tricks picked up along the way. I stopped treating my work as small. I learned to own it.

What I’m Carrying Into Year Two

Year One was about proving I could show up. Proving this was something I could actually do.

Year Two is about expansion.

More creative risks. More flavors still waiting to be discovered. More technical challenges — bakes I wouldn’t have dared attempt a year ago. More fun. Less overthinking. And more ownership over everything I create. No more hesitating to say this is mine. It is. And I’m proud of it.

One Year. Every Bake. Every Doubt. Every Showing Up Anyway.

I’m grateful for every read, every comment, every cake requested. I’m grateful for every moment I doubted myself and showed up anyway. I’m grateful for every follower; from the ones who have been here from the beginning to the ones who will find me later.

But most of all, I’m grateful I didn’t quit.