From Cake Decorating to Food Blogging
If you’ve ever wondered how I went from cake decorating to food blogging, here’s the story. And let me tell you—it’s not just about a career change. It’s about burnout, motherhood, missed opportunities, and how walking away from my dream job led me to something even more fulfilling.
? My Love for Cakes Started Young
Growing up, I spent a lot of time in the kitchen with my aunt, who made celebration cakes. I was her little shadow—measuring flour, helping with frosting, watching her create magic from scratch. That’s where my love for cake decorating really began.
I even made a few cakes of my own when I was young. A buttercream doll cake for my niece. A volcano cake for my nephew, complete with “lava.” I didn’t realize it then, but those moments were the spark that would one day ignite a career.
? My Son’s First Birthday Changed Everything
After I got married, the first cake I made was for my son’s first birthday. I was excited—but completely overwhelmed. It felt like I was starting from scratch. With no formal training, I had never worked with fondant, and YouTube was my only teacher.
Back then, tutorials were scarce. People weren’t sharing freely like they do now. Everything I learned came from trial and error—late nights, cracked fondant, and a whole lot of determination.
? From Kitchen Table to Wedding Tables
Eventually, I got better. My fondant didn’t crack. My roses actually looked like roses. People started noticing.
I started getting custom cake orders—from friends, then friends-of-friends, and then strangers. Soon, I had a full-blown cake business. My work was featured in magazines. I was invited to collaborations, cake events, and design showcases.
And most importantly: I had built something with my own hands. I began specializing in wedding cakes, and sugar flowers became my passion. The detail, the elegance, the creative freedom—I was completely in love with the art.
? How My Blog—and Facebook—Took Off
As I got better, I began sharing my process—not just the final cake, but step-by-step photos, behind-the-scenes shots, and honest explanations of what worked and what didn’t.
Back then, most decorators only posted polished final results. But I didn’t know the “rules,” so I shared everything. And that’s what people loved. It felt real, doable. It’s one of the most unexpected parts of going from cake decorating to blogging.
My blog started gaining traction. My Facebook page exploded—eventually hitting over a million followers. I was doing work I loved, and I felt like I was on top of the world.
?? But Life Behind the Scenes Was a Different Story
What you didn’t see was the chaos behind the cake. My days started at 6 a.m., making breakfast and school sandwiches for my kids. Then it was straight into cake prep, baking, decorating, deliveries.
And deliveries? Oh, the stress. I had to make sure someone could babysit, pray the cake survived the drive, and hope the Israeli weather didn’t melt the buttercream before I got there.
My daughter has developmental challenges, needs more attention than ever. But I had none to give. My son missed me. The house missed me. I missed me.
I was constantly juggling. No time for movies, park visits, pajama parties. I was working all day, decorating into the night, going to bed after 2 a.m., and waking up at 6. I was part of everyone else’s special day, but I was missing my own.
✈️ The Opportunities I Had to Say No To
As the business grew, so did the offers.
I was invited to cake shows overseas. Offered paid trips to teach masterclasses around the world. These were the kind of opportunities decorators dream about.
One of the most unexpected parts of going from cake decorating to food blogging was realizing
I couldn’t take them.
With a daughter, who needed more hands-on care at the time at home, no support system, and a family that needed me—I had to say no.
Over and over again.
I watched as my peers grew their brands, launched products, taught internationally. And while I clapped for them, a part of me felt stuck—like I was standing still while the world kept moving forward.
? The Breaking Point
And then, things got even harder.
My husband injured his back and became bedridden for seven months. I was suddenly responsible for everything. The house. The kids. The business. The caregiving. It was a season of pure survival.
There were days I baked and decorated cakes without eating. I don’t remember how I managed—it’s a blur. I only remember that my kids were fed, and the cakes were delivered on time. But so many cakes never even made it to social media. I didn’t have time to take photos, let alone post.
Then one day, my son—frustrated and heartbroken—looked at me and said:
“I hate cake decorating, Mama.”
He didn’t mean the cakes. He meant what it was doing to me. To us.
That was my wake-up call.
? No More Cake Orders. I Needed to Stop.
So I did something I never thought I’d do:
I stopped taking cake orders.
I gave myself permission to pause.
And suddenly… it was like I could breathe again.
I was having breakfast with my kids. I was laughing again. We were going to parks, watching movies, staying up in pajamas just because. I was no longer a ghost floating through our home—I was present.
? Rediscovering Joy in a New Way
With time on my hands, I finally started writing the tutorials I had photographed over the years. All those step-by-step photos I never had time to post? I began turning them into blog posts.
And along with those, I shared the meals I was making for my kids—simple, quick recipes I made between chaos. Things like one-bowl cakes, 30-minute dinners, and homemade breads that didn’t take all day.
People loved them.
And the blog started to grow.
? The Day Everything Shifted
Back then, I didn’t even know I could make money from blogging. But another blogger saw my work and helped me apply to Mediavine.
I got accepted.
Suddenly, I was earning the same income from my blog ads as I was from cake decorating—without the stress, the sleepless nights, the delivery panic, or the guilt.
No more 2 a.m. sugar flowers. No more last-minute babysitters. Just food I loved sharing, and the freedom to be the mom, wife, and woman I wanted to be again.
? Why I Still Share This Story
Because someone out there needs to hear it.
Maybe you’re chasing a dream that’s costing you too much. Maybe you’re pouring yourself into a career you love but it’s leaving nothing for the people you love. Or maybe you’re just in a season where you feel stuck while everyone else is growing.
I’ve been there.
I don’t regret the cake years. They taught me everything.
But I’m so grateful for the shift. For the pause. For the blog.
And for the chance to share this new chapter with you.
Whether you’re here for the ganache or the garlic—I’m so glad you found your way to my kitchen.
With love,
Veena
This post hit me so hard, Veena. I’m still in the thick of running my cake business and questioning how long I can keep up. Thank you for being so honest about what this career can really cost.
Thank you so much for reading and sharing that. I completely understand how you feel—it’s such a tough balance.
Reading this brought tears to my eyes. I gave up teaching cake classes when my daughter was diagnosed with autism, and I’ve struggled with guilt ever since. This post reminded me it’s okay to choose differently.
You’re definitely not alone. Sending you lots of strength—I know how heavy that decision can be.
This post hit me so hard, Veena. I’m still in the thick of running my cake business and questioning how long I can keep up. Thank you for being so honest about what this career can really cost.
That means a lot to me. It wasn’t easy to write, but I’m so glad it resonated with you.
From one decorator-turned-blogger to another—this is such a beautiful full-circle moment. Your honesty gives permission for others to pause and pivot, too.
That means everything. Thank you for saying that—it really feels full circle now.
This is the kind of post that makes me want to re-evaluate everything. I’m so tired of sacrificing family time for 3-tier cakes. Thank you for reminding us there’s life beyond the orders.
Thank you so much for reading and sharing that. I completely understand how you feel—it’s such a tough balance.
As someone who’s been asked to travel and teach but couldn’t leave my kids behind either, I feel this deep in my bones. You chose the hard thing, and I admire you even more for it.
Burnout is real, and I wish more people talked about it. Thank you for your honesty too!
I used to think success was being featured or traveling for cake shows. But this post? It reminded me that presence is success too. Thank you for that shift in perspective.
Hugs. I felt the same—sometimes they don’t say it, but we feel it as moms. You’re not alone.
Veena, you’ve always been so generous with your knowledge—and now with your story too. I’ve been hiding my own burnout for months. Reading this makes me feel less alone.
That means everything. Thank you for saying that