One baker, one kitchen

I grew up in an Amish/Mennonite community where baking wasn't something special you did for a hobby — it was simply part of everyday life. Meals were made from scratch, and feeding people was one of the ways you took care of them. I learned to bake young, long before I ever imagined it becoming a business.

My life looks very different now, but that part of me stayed.

The Resting Spoon started from something I had thought about for a long time — finding a way to reach people through food. Food has always felt like one of the most natural ways to care for someone, to make them feel welcome, remembered, or simply given something good in the middle of an ordinary day. I wanted to create something that let me do more of that, and The Resting Spoon grew from there.

I still keep it small. I bake by preorder, twice a week, and I make everything in batches I can handle myself. Dough gets rolled by hand, rolls are shaped one at a time, and I'd rather make less and make it well than turn it into something that feels like a production line.

There's a lot about where I came from that I've chosen to leave behind, but making food for people is one of the things I wanted to keep. There's something simple and good about handing someone a box of something you made with your own hands and knowing they are taking some of that care home with them.

That is what The Resting Spoon is built on.