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Cakes for Others: A Love Letter in Layers

a vanilla chantilly cake with blueberries, strawberries, decorated victorian style and pretty flowers, pretty flower cake
My mom's birthday cake: a vanilla chantilly cake with strawberries, blueberries, and whipped cream honey frosting
“What is done in love is done well.” – Vincent Van Gogh

Cakes are by far one of my favorite desserts to bake. There’s much to do and little to say, but somehow, cakes speak louder than words. In the gentle clink of the mixing bowl and the hush of the oven timer, there is ritual — a quiet, intentional pause in time. I find there's beauty in my cake-baking ritual, when I get quiet and intentionally ponder about the person it's for. It gives me the space to focus on someone I love, to think about their favorite flavors, colors, animals, or flowers.


From a cramped dorm kitchen in undergrad to my home bakery today, I’ve been baking quite a lot of cakes for friends, family, and loved ones. In doing so, I've come to realize that by the simple act of baking a cake, I could make the people around me feel seen and loved. It’s a small gesture, but one that carries meaning.


Some may assume people only bake for something in return — for praise, for photos, for recognition. But there’s a quiet joy in creating something solely for someone else. Decorating, curating, and crafting a cake with only their joy in mind. I’ve found that, more than anything, cake becomes a gathering agent — for love, for memory, for laughter.


Baking a cake always calls for reflection. I pause and ask myself: Do I really know what they like?

I’ve come to believe that knowing someone deeply can reveal itself through cake. Are they a buttercream or whipped cream person? Do they crave citrus or chocolate? I become a little journalist — asking, observing, noting flavors in my recipe journals. I sketch, doodle, and write out my decorating plans like a love letter in layers.


The cakes I’ve made are special not because of the recipes, but because of the people they were made for. Without someone to blow out the candles, the cake is just sugar and flour. It’s the person — their story, their joy, their presence — that gives it meaning.


And that’s what these essays are about: my thoughts, my baking intentions, and the why behind every flavor I’ve chosen over the years — for birthdays, heartbreaks, quiet afternoons, and joyful moments alike. A collection of cakes baked with love stories, each one a small way of saying, I love you, and I'm happy you're in my life.



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