A Cupcake a Day...

What did you say when you were 5 years old and an adult asked you what you wanted to be when you grew up? Was it movie star, or a rock-star, a famous athlete, or the ever-so-simple, billionaire? Whatever cutesy answer you promptly provided (and let’s be honest, changed every few days) was met with laughs or hair ruffles, never taken seriously, never considered actual career choices. As for me, I always said pastry chef.

I grew up slightly obsessed with the world of food, embarrassed though I am to admit it. But while my tummy craved all the most cheesy, garlicky, spicy flavors, my mind was always fascinated by the magical world of desserts, and particularly cakes. I remember binge-watching (before binge-watching became a thing) cake decorating shows and baking contests on TLC and dreaming that one day I’d be that girl creating a 5-tier wedding cake, or that guy who made 2000 cupcakes in 2 hours for a birthday party.

To put this slightly long-winded intro into context, I wanted to be a pastry chef since as long as I can remember, but I had an obstacle; my parents didn’t take this dream very seriously at all. I was (unfortunately, I always said) a ‘good’ student, by which I mean I got good grades. In no other way was I remotely a decent student; I could barely focus on school and was always getting into trouble about it with my teachers. That of course didn’t seem to matter to my parents, or maybe they just didn’t notice anything but the end result; they wanted me to be a doctor.

By the time I got to the end of high school, I had put my baking fantasies on the back burner, and though I used to constantly try out new dessert recipes at home, I had subconsciously given up hope on ever convincing my parents to let me go to pastry school, and now stood direction-less. They were more than happy to hand me the map to my future themselves, the one leading straight to medical school.

Now don’t get me wrong, my parents are pretty great as you will see further along into this story. They were doing what they thought was best for me and what would be the most stable and secure future, especially because I was never firm enough about a different choice.

Thus began the most miserable 2 years of my life. I'm from India, and preparing to get into medical school is a crazy world back there. It was 2 years of non-stop studies, subjects that I understood little of and could not just rely on my decent retention power to coast along, like I did in school. I was struggling and I was severely unhappy. Even my parents could see that this had been a huge mistake. They told me I didn’t have to go through with it but that I needed to have another plan. I did; I still wanted to be a pastry chef.

After a lot of family discussions and some tears, it was decided. I was going to ditch the med school entrance exams and prepare for hotel management ones instead, the closest thing India had to offer in terms of a pastry degree (having a bachelor’s degree of some sorts being my dad’s one non-negotiable command). Though very late in the game and almost sure I would never get in, I tried my best. That was the first and maybe the only time in my life that I believed in fate, or even miracles. I got into one of the best hotel management colleges in India.

Believe me, I am not exaggerating in the slightest when I tell you that those 3 years of college were the best 3 years of my life. I completely changed and really came into my own. The confidence, the social skills, the friends and just the knowledge I gained will stay with me forever. It would seem almost like a dream at times. I couldn’t quite believe how happy I was.

Once I graduated, I moved to Toronto for a diploma in pastry, and finally I was actually learning the technicalities and the how-to behind all the fantastic desserts I'd seen on TV all these years. Shortly after, I scored a job at a charming, family-run bakeshop in the heart of the city and have been working there ever since.

I'm a baker and cake-decorator at the shop, and my day is filled with baking cookies, icing cupcakes and masking cakes. It sounds basic, it sounds like nothing, but to me it is everything. Everything I've been through to make it to this point, all the sleepless nights and the stress, the fights with my family, the absolute feeling of being completely lost; they were all worth it. Of course, I’m human. There are days where I want to just throw my phone away when the alarm blares at 5 am, days when I’m too mentally exhausted to face the physical demands of being on my feet for 10 hours a day, when I’m sick of washing piles of dishes and mopping the kitchen floor at the end of my shift. I get envious at times when I see my friends who did choose STEM fields or just degrees that are more education-oriented rather than experience-oriented like mine, when I see how much more money they are clearly making in comparison. But at the end of the day, none of that matters. This is what makes me happy and my heart full. This is what gives me the grudging motivation to turn off the alarm instead of tossing it away and get my butt out of bed on a snow day when its –25 degrees outside (and yes, that’s in Celsius!) I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. It helps that my work culture is fantastic too. My boss is young and fun, as are my coworkers. We feel like a family of sorts, always looking out for each other, always bantering and laughing. It almost doesn’t even feel like work, to be doing what I love surrounded by such amazing people, sappy and unbelievable as that sounds. What can I say? I'm just very lucky.

So yes, maybe I'm not doing something quite as meaningful as saving lives. But I’m doing something that brings me happiness and hopefully adds some sweetness and joy to someone’s day. And to me, that’s just as fulfilling.