part I: undaunted courage

Can you briefly walk it's through your story - how you started and how you got to where you are today? You can include as little or as much detail as you'd like.

Once all struggle is grasped, miracles are possible.

Mao Zedong

I was born in Scotland, after the Falklands conflict but before the miners' strike. Thatcherism was at its peak, the Conservative party having secured power for a second time with a landslide election victory just months before. Rude sex anthem "Relax" by Frankie Goes to Hollywood was top of the charts. It's possible that it was playing on the radio in the delivery room of the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary on that auspicious January night when I entered the world. My mum doesn't remember but agrees that it's possible.

My family were (and still are) humble, humble people. My father, a humble man, had inherited his father's haggis farm and his gnarled, calloused hands (and face) told a story of toil and countless early mornings preparing the haggis for market. He didn't speak a single word to me until my 18th birthday when he sat me down on a stack of haggis pelts, put his gnarled, calloused, humble hand on my shoulder and declared, "Son, one day all this will be yours." 

But I had other ideas. I dreamed of something more. I dreamed not of haggis but of flaky, buttery croissants. Of rich, chocolatey cookies with a hint of coconut. Of blueberry scones topped with crunchy demerara sugar. I dreamed of a place far across the ocean where, for just $20, all of these things and more could be delivered (within a strict delivery zone) before 10am on occasional Sunday mornings.

I dreamed of Sunday Bakeday.

Has it been a smooth road? If not, what were some of the struggles along the way?

Yes, it has been a smooth road.

Tell us more about your business and your customers.

When I do press, the phrase "greatest baker of the 21st century" is often bandied about by interviewers, but I see myself less as an incredibly talented patissiere (French for someone who makes pastries) and more as a community leader. None of them have ever told me this but it's clear that I am an inspiration to my customers (some of my Instagram stories get upwards of 12 likes), and that they regard me as part close personal friend and part father figure (or son if they are old). You might think that delivering pastries to individual homes in a relatively small metropolitan area on occasional Sunday mornings would have little impact on community spirit but you would be wrong.

When I bake I see myself as a composer writing a symphony. A symphony of pastry. Butter is my grand piano. Flour is my trombone. Sugar is my cello. Eggs are another instrument that you would find in an orchestra. From just these humble ingredients I write (bake) my music (pastries) and then drive around Grand Rapids on occasional Sunday mornings playing my music (delivering pastries).