Hard Things Rise Twice
About five or six years into running my bakery, customers began asking for something I’d never made before — macarons. At the time, I had never even tasted one. They were suddenly everywhere: colorful little bites lined up in magazine photos and Instagram feeds. Customers wanted them, and I wanted to learn.
By then, our bakery had already found its rhythm. We were well known for our cupcakes and custom cakes, and people loved our wide variety of bars, cookies, and loaves. I felt confident in what we offered — but macarons were a whole different story. They were mysterious, fragile, and famously fussy.
The Struggle in the Kitchen
Unlike cakes or cookies, there wasn’t anyone nearby to teach me. I relied on videos, cookbooks, and a lot of guesswork. And let me tell you — those first months were rough. Some batches cracked, others spread too far, many turned hollow. A few trays made me proud, but most were frustrating enough to make me wonder if they were even worth it.
It took about three to four months of experimenting — good, bad, and everything in between — before I felt like I could consistently turn out something close to what I was aiming for. Even then, they weren’t perfect. Macarons have a way of humbling you, no matter how long you’ve been baking.
The Breakthrough
But then came the day a tray came out just right. Smooth shells, delicate feet, the right texture inside. It was like a badge of honor, proof that the hours of trial and error had meant something.
That first perfect batch made me feel worthy of making them — and not everyone gets to that point. Many bakers give up on macarons because they’re just too frustrating. Sticking with them gave me a kind of confidence I hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just about selling them — it was about proving to myself that I could do hard things.
And once I had them figured out, they became a strong seller in our shop. We weren’t the only bakery in town making them, but they quickly became part of what people came to us for. What had started as a trend I’d never even tasted turned into one of our most rewarding menu items.
A Different Kind of Hard Thing
Fast forward to now. I’ve been working on something new: The Bakeshoppe — a fresh way of sharing my recipes, bakes, and ideas. And while this isn’t a return to full bakery life, it still feels like stepping into something big and unknown.
But this time, the challenge looks different. It isn’t about mastering a tricky recipe. It’s about building confidence in myself again. Learning how to design a website. Figuring out Etsy. Navigating social media. Even learning how to use AI tools, which is still a challenge. It’s been a lot of behind-the-scenes work, and some days it has felt harder than any finicky batch of macarons.
Why? Because this challenge isn’t just about technical skill — it’s emotional. It’s about showing up again, after years of not wanting to. It’s about being visible and sharing my work in a new way. That takes a different kind of courage.
What I’ve Learned
If there’s one lesson both baking and life have taught me, it’s this:
Don’t listen to everyone else’s opinions.
Don’t compare yourself to others.
Believe in your own abilities.
And above all, put intentional love into what you do.
Because just like in baking, if you don’t add love and passion, it shows. The flavor, the texture, the outcome — it all depends on the heart behind it.
Hard Things Are Worth It
Macarons taught me that even when something feels impossible, it’s worth pressing on. Now, as I launch The Bakeshoppe, I remind myself of that first perfect tray and the confidence it sparked.
This new venture is my “new macaron” — nerve-wracking, uncertain, but full of possibility. I know that just like those delicate little cookies, the effort will be worth it.
And maybe that’s the reminder we all need: hard things rise twice. First, in the oven. Then, in us.
Here’s to every cracked shell and imperfect batch — because they’re proof we’re still learning, still rising, and still daring to try!
Debi