Chatting with one of my regulars. A good friend now. A special person with a difficult past. Still smiles you know? The brightest person in the room really. It’s always the humans that have lost and endured that seem to be bright. Feel bright. I wonder if that’s when they’re out of their home. I think, it comes down to being grateful for being alive. Simple. Seeing someone take their last breath in front of you rewires it all. I’ll be there soon, so why not? It’s not even cliche it just is. It’s not deep, it just is.

Back to creating a space where people feel like they actually slow down. In a city, where it’s all so rushed. I’ve achieved it. Passing on the energy I feel day to day. I mean, most days. Slow thoughts. Slow living. Slow loving. Calm. Why am I even writing about this?

Sitting here, having my morning coffee. I feel like there’s many hours in the day to achieve what I want too. I love this feeling. Often swept up in running a business that has a slow impact, I feel rushed and time poor.

It’s reminding me. I have so many hours in one day to do it all. If not, I have tomorrow too. It comforting. When other aspects of my life feel like they are unstable or fleeting, it’s there. I long to share the feeling. With humans m that visit my shop. With friends. With family. With a lover. To linger at places.

Christiana

_{A little bakery. My little shop. Early starts with purpose. A space to hold all my ideas. Constant ideas that drown in the sea of full-time work. I’m scared of financial instability. Something, I’ve built for myself. If there’s failure, I’ll feel it. If there’s greatness, I’ll feel it? Do I have a negative perspective or am I being realistic?}

_{First Drawings}

_{First look at a space}

_{After the first space, I went on to look at many others. I landed on an old battery shop.}

-

Six months. Somehow, it’s been six months since writing that.

I left the full-time job. The thing that paid predictably. The thing that made the numbers make sense. I thought leaving would make me feel exposed. Instead, it made me feel responsible. There isn’t another version of my life happening somewhere else anymore. This is it. I really thought monetising my passion would dilute it. That turning creativity into invoices, wages, rent and tax would make it feel like work. It didn’t.

It did the opposite.

The more responsibility I had, the deeper I wanted to go. Better recipes. Better coffee. Better systems. Better design. Better service. Somehow the pressure didn’t flatten the passion. It sharpened it. I’m still here. I think I love building something as much as I love what I’m actually building. Being free of a corporate role has allowed me to go so much deeper within. Reflective? I don’t know. I’ve noticed more of my flaws and talents. I’ve realised something else too.

I always thought I was comfortable alone. Independent. Self-sufficient. But somewhere between opening the doors, hiring people and seeing familiar faces every morning, I realised I don’t actually want to build something alone. Independence isn’t isolation. They’re different things. The strange part is that I’ve spent years building security everywhere else. Financially. Professionally. Creatively. Yet relationships have been the one place I’ve expected someone else to give me what I haven’t consistently given myself.

I’m more extroverted than I think. My besties tell me this. I’ve caved, they are right.

The conversations across the coffee machine. Staff laughing in the kitchen. Regulars who know what they’re ordering before they reach the counter. Someone asking, “How’s business?” and genuinely wanting the answer.

The bakery became a place where people met me, but it also became a place where I met myself. Not the version hidden behind achievement. Just the one standing behind the counter or oven. And that feels strangely new.

I still worry about money. I still think about worst-case scenarios more than I’d like to admit. Maybe that never disappears when you’ve built something yourself and haven’t had relying on someone as an option. Every slow day feels personal. Every busy day feels temporary. The pendulum swings. But underneath all of that is something I didn’t expect. I’m excited to do things. I’m excited to create and converse. In an age where communication is behind a screen and loneliness is at a peak, I’m dedicating my life to building a place where there is real connection.

Not every morning, I’m jumping out of bed. I’m not trying to romanticise exhaustion. Some mornings are just early alarms and heavy eyes. I’m alone but not lonely. For so many years of my 20s, it felt the other way around. That was a very ugly feeling.

So, go for it?

Experience it. Whatever or whoever it is. It’s easier said then done. Life is worth it though, while we still have it?

Christiana

I think she’d be surprised by how much I want it, how deeply I do. It’s not just about the art, it’s about being there with her, noticing the same details, breathing the same stillness, feeling time slow in the same way.

I miss feeling time like this. I feel it in the bakery some times, although most times it feels rushed. I did this to slow time though, so I question everything. By did this, I mean open my own business. Here I am, battling monetising it all and losing the slowness. Maybe, it’s just because it’s the beginning and I haven’t gotten the hand of it? Maybe this is how it is? Maybe, it is what I make it?

She spoke about water lilies. I remember the words, you must know about Monet. I thought yes I do, but I will know the same thing again if you’re the one telling me. Maybe just to hear your voice? I want to see the water lilies too. Say, let’s do it tomorrow. How can I?

Sometimes I feel burdened by ambition. I move through the world carrying it first, before anything else. It shapes how I think, how I plan, how I brace myself. I am always leaning toward a future that promises rest, even while the past keeps tugging at me. Its anguish, its poverty, its fear of returning to a place I don’t want to be.

Anyway, I digress. I’ve just written about random streams of thoughts now. It’s 12.33am. I like my ambition most of the time. It feels like an armour sometimes though and too heavy to hold.

Maybe, she thinks I don’t want to go the art gallery with her. Maybe, she thinks I don’t want to see the water lilies the way she does. Stillness feels indulgent when you’ve learned to equate movement with safety. I can’t communicate this right when I try to explain. I just say it’s hard. Or it’s part of my character. Or I need to get things done and you don’t understand.

But I do want to go to the art gallery. I love art. I do want to see the water lilies. I want to stand there without calculating what comes next, without proving anything, without bracing for the fall. I want to let the colours wash over me and feel, just for a moment, that it’s allowed to be enough. To be there, to look, to share the quiet with her.

It’s 12.49am now. I should go to bed. I have to wake up early to get to the bakery.

Christiana

I stay inspired by the almond croissant. At my last bake sale, I baked almond croissant buns. I loved this bun. Not as buttery or flaky as an almond croissant. For this reason, not comparable. This cake is another inspired baked good!!! A light fluffy sponge, tender and fragrant. Between its layers, a ribbon of silky brown butter caramel melts into the crumb, its deep, toasty sweetness heightened by the nuttiness of the sponge. Layered throughout are golden toasted almonds. All wrapped in a cloud of whipped caramel cream. Salted, too. Different although lovely.

I’m going to structure this recipe in sections based on the elements. It will be ingredients followed by method.

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We can listen to this country song. It’s a real country song.

If you don’t want to be here. Leave.

Such a banger. Honestly, it’s a tune.

I’m going to serenade you with this song.

Isn’t it weird the amount of songs we’ve cried too? Which songs have you cried too? So many. Like this song. Which part? I wish someone would have told me it’s lonely.

There she goes. Mind running. Another phone call. She says:

Can I please see your face? Why though? Because I like seeing your face. Because I want to feel like I’m with you.

I don’t think my voice sounds so good tonight, but I don’t care. I’m just going to subject you to it. Aw such a cute song.

I resisted her. I resisted the concept of choosing her. I don’t know why she stayed. Does it even matter? People stay and damage one another. People run and damage one another. People hurt people. What if was glimmers of unspoken understanding that held two together. I feel society emphasises the now.

Be present.

It may be the humans that make it easier to feel present, are the people to stay close too.

Stay.

A random piece of writing. A worthy one that captures a moment. Sometimes writing for me is a place to capture. She captures a lot. I couldn’t be as brilliant. I think, there are times writers are left longing for love through words. Their love language is words right?

This is why I still operate on a small scale. I close my books to bake cakes when my creative energy starts to slow down. In an odd way, I can say I have been a creative my whole life? It’s taking different forms through my life. I’ve understood it at time and there are times, I don’t know what is going on. I truly feel like a lost puppy in an ocean. I know, panting and breathless.

Any way, I’ve learned about what happens when I push through the quiet. When I ignore the signals that something needs more time. When I keep producing long after the spark has dimmed. It doesn’t just lead to burnout, it leads to a full stop. A block. A silence so heavy I can’t hear myself anymore. The creativity doesn’t just slow down, it disappears. And once it’s gone, clawing it back feels impossible.

That’s why I’ve decided to share two recipes a month, which is a change to my current schedule. Not because I’m creating less, but because I want to give more.

More thought. More intention. More care.

This slower rhythm allows me the freedom to make something I’m proud of and engulfed in. I close my books to draw inspiration. My substack is a reflection of me. It feels right. It means I can spend time refining the method, layering flavour, and writing detailed instructions that feel generous instead of rushed. It gives me space to test, to play, to be surprised and to let a recipe evolve, rather than force it into being. Exactly what I do, in real life (if this is not real life?)

Weekly publishing, for me, became tedious. And if something begins to feel tedious, I know it’s time to shift. I’d rather offer fewer things that hold weight, than more that simply fill space.

So I’ll be publishing twice a month: thoughtfully, intuitively, and only when it feels honest. I trust that what’s made with care and not urgency. This will always resonate with me more deeply and hopefully resonate with you too?

I hope to do this for a long time. I hope to write more. I hope to create more. I want to be here. Exist more. Love more. I have been here up to now, although there is a wave of more that’s rushing through me. It’s hard to explain. I’m content now. It’s just this feeling for more of if all. To soak more in life?

Thank you for reading. Thank you for being here.

Christiana

People often ask what my favourite thing to bake is, and I always think about it more deeply than I probably should. Buns for the dough, the stretch, the rhythm. Cakes for the creative freedom, the chance to tell stories in layers. Close up is tarts & cookies!

But if I had to answer and I do, I bake what I love. I will always bake what I love. The idea of choosing one path and sticking to it feels like a kind of heartbreak. I could never. My nature is stubborn, and I hold fast to quality over quantity. I’ll work tirelessly to keep it that way, even as I grow.

Back to bread. I posted a story on instagram to see what breads are the greatest. The responses poured in. Now I have a very long, very beautiful list. I don’t know if I’ll ever make it through them all, maybe one day.

For now, I’m starting small. Starting where my hands want to go. I’m not thinking too far ahead, because I know I’ll fixate on the next one soon enough.

First, focaccia. I researched and trialled countless focaccia recipes. Some too dense, others too airy, some lacking that golden crust or the chew I craved. In the process, I kept coming back to the soul of Ligurian-style focaccia: its generous hydration, its rustic depth, its almost pillowy lightness when done just right. This version is my own adaptation, shaped by repetition and intuition. I’ve worked it to what I feel is the perfect fluffiness. A balance between structure and softness, with a crust that sings against the tenderness beneath.

I enjoyed reading this reddit thread: I ate a lot of mediocre focaccia so you don’t have to – my recipe and tips for springy, tasty focaccia. In particular, the My top tips for focaccia. I have found that the sweet spot for the focaccia to rise in the fridge is 48 hours. Here is my adapted recipe below. Both flavour pairings share the same dough.

Also here’s a snippet of the big list of breads :)

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Now, onto the recipe. Nutella buns. I titled this recipe as chocolate hazelnut buns because the buns are filled with both Nutella and a homemade hazelnut praline. So, they are more than just a Nutella bun. Nothing against a Nutella bun. I love the simplicity of these buns and the depth created by adding a touch of espresso in the hazelnut praline. Mature? Yes. But not really. The Nutella pays homage to our inner children. Here’s the recipe.

The ingredients should be enough to make 4-6 mini buns :)

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And here is mother enjoying it with her tea!

What I love about this bake, is it’s very simple. One bake, one coating and done. I hope you love it. Before I get to the recipe, I would love input on which flavour pairing you would prefer, just in general. I’ll leave a little poll :’)

Here is the recipe. First photos ofc!

The ingredients make around a 6” round circle thing!

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I baked this cake for my most recent bake sale. I tested this recipe multiple times to get it right. That meant, I tasted it many times :’) Since the bake sale, I’ve been meaning to share the recipe so we’re here now. My last recipe for June. I was inspired by rhubarb being in season and my desire to bake a vegan variation of an angel cake. The fluffy coconut sponge is as close as I can get. Fluffy heaven, yum.

Also, here are some photos of the cake I prepared for my bake sale <3

There is this thing with Rhubarb. I don’t know how quickly I can get into the pot before I feel nauseous. Something about the smell of fresh raw rhubarb get’s me good. When the rhubarb starts cook, jam starts to the form, the aroma is divine.

This recipe is for a 4” round cake. If you want to make an 10” to serve more, please double triple the recipe <3 I’m going to detail each ingredient list and method together in sections for this publication.

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1. Does age matter? I’ve asked myself this question in the context of dating. This year, I’ve been fixated on the thought that I need someone who has experienced enough life to match my needs in a relationship. I know, people say age is just a number. Speaking to that, there are humans who have lived longer & not wiser. There are younger souls, much wiser. Although is it the majority? I’m at the point, where I feel like a little more age given there is enough self-awareness and willingness to grow in the years lived matters. Maybe it doesn’t when you’re in love? In rebuttal, maybe love is not enough?

   

   

2. Should I give up my full-time job and go all in with my business? Yes. I haven’t but yes. I have always been a creative person. If that’s limited, I feel unhappy. For a long time, I told myself that I need that mental challenge (I get through my full-time). The truth is, I have avoided challenging myslef with my passion. The avoidance has justified my fear. If I gave more of myself, my entire self I would be challenged and I know it. Back to this question, I feel like it’s not a matter of if but when.

3. What am I scared of? Losing a loved one again. Grief? Failure?

   

   

4. Have I achieved what I set out too? This terrifies me. What it I don’t have enough time to do it? As much as I hate to admit it, my achievements define a part of me. I value that past versions of myself pulled through tough times, not just surviving by achieving things that little me would be proud of. When is it enough?

5. Would I have social media if I didn’t have a business?

6. Where am I going?

7. Is existing with someone enough? Yes. Mute all the other noise. Where did the joy go in not racing to the next step? The thought that on a casual basis, people can say I love you and not mean a single word is wild. Although, this is all coming from me who, is scared of commitment. I don’t trust easily and I often seclude into my own little space. I talk bout existence in the context of attention and proximity. For any type of existence to flourish, choosing to give a part of yourself to them is everything. Does this stand for all relationships? Lovers, friends, siblings?

   

8. What is my body saying? I say this to myself when I’m confused about a decision. It helps.

9. Will things get better in my 30s?

10. Am I living a purposeful life?

11. Does my ambition make me shallow?

A short write up. Some questions left unanswered with no thoughts. Really, these questions float and linger with no answers. My mind might take me elsewhere closer to 30. I’ll check back in with myself closer to December.

Christiana

The ingredients should make a standard loaf pan.

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The ingredients make a 4” round cake.

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The ingredients should make 12 regular cookies.

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The ingredients for this cake makes one 4” cake. It’s small, so if you need to feed more please double or triple the recipe.

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The ingredients should make 5-7 medium sized pizza’s. All the ingredients are in cups, passed on by my mum, Marie. A passed-down recipe is more than instructions, it is inheritance, intimacy, and quiet time travel. I hear her voice, her direction. I feel like I step into the lineage every time I recreate one of my mum’s recipes.

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The ingredients should make 24 mini muffins or 6 large muffins.

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Unfinished Piece 1

I felt overwhelmed by the thought of keeping note of my what I enjoyed in January. You know when you think of it all, all at once? Seemed like way too much for me to capture.

Unfinished Piece 2

I felt like a failure for not proceeding with the January post that I started a February one. I thought, maybe I can track my month during the month instead of complete it all at once. I proceeded to write nothing.

Unfinished Piece 3

The intention was to capture how it feels to experience summer in Australia. Committed to the title after eating a mango. Left it at the title.

Unfinished Piece 4

I baked so many cookies. I fixated hard to find the perfect recipe. Everyday. Opened substack to document it all in detail instead of instagram. Thought about how much time it would take to compare when I can trial again and not make it chore? Maybe it didn’t need so much detail. I think I told myself that because it felt like too much to capture. Left it. Still want to finish it.

Unfinished Piece 5

I liked this. to start. I felt like I could look back on it. Then I felt like an idiot. Who wraps up this shit? Like why I am I doing this. Actually felt like a loser thinking about it. Stopped. Thought about the fact that I’m turning 30. Thought about the list being horrible. Plagued by too many negative thoughts. Closed immediately.

Unfinished Piece 6

I started writing this piece after an intense day at my 9-5. A grey machine that drains creativity. A workplace that was once colourful even if corporate has slowly become colourless. Little robots longing for that beverage to drown the sorrows. I always comfort myself with the thought of opening up my little bakery in the morning. I felt the urge to write about how it would feel. Why I can’t leave the grey place. Again, overwhelmed by I’m not sure really. I think I was distracted by to-do list for the day so I closed it. A piece I want to still finish.

Unfinished Piece 7

A started writing without thinking. Just watching. This felt so nice and liberating. I remember feeling warm and like I could capture this all night. I want to finish this piece.

Seven unfinished pieces in total. Feels ironic that I made it to the end of this piece and I might just actually finish it. I’m left with the thought that I need to slow down and write. I like it. I enjoy it. Another thought, it’s okay to leave things unfinished and come back to them or not. You don’t always have to come back to them. It would be the opposite of a creative process if it had a strict process to follow. Steals the creativity. I’m happy I wrote this. Society romanticises closure, productivity, and polish. I left things undone. Might be preserved here now or revisited at a later right time.

Christiana

The ingredients are for one mini tart.

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I must show you my mother with her lemons too!

The ingredients should be enough to make 20 to 30 cookies, depending on the size you shape them.

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