Culinary Evolution: Tradition, Class, and Cultural Crossroads

Introduction

Food is far more than sustenance – it carries culture, history, and identity on every plate. Yet the story of “fine dining” often privileges certain cuisines and chefs while overlooking the informal innovators – home cooks, indigenous peoples, and marginalized communities – who created many core techniques and dishes. This report explores the evolution of the culinary world through the lenses of cultural appropriation, classism, and the undervaluation of traditional food knowledge. We will see how early human experimentation with cooking laid the groundwork for all cuisine, how French and Italian foods became enshrined as global haute cuisine, and why other traditions (like Southern soul food or Caribbean cooking) have not been granted the same prestige or price. We’ll compare the perception of elite foods (such as foie gras or French macarons) with humble staples (like chitlins or pineapple upside-down cake), and examine fusion cuisine as both creative innovation and cultural borrowing. Finally, we highlight modern chefs who are reclaiming and elevating traditional dishes in high-end settings, blurring the line between “home food” and “fine dining.”

“Cultural Appropriation Foods Around the World”
This short video explores the tension between borrowing and erasure in global food culture — the exact issues we’re about to unpack in this deep dive.

Why Kareem’s TropiKool Slice is Fusion With a Story
This cake is more than a dessert—it’s a remix of memory and mastery. Strawberry coconut upside-down cake. Kool-Aid gelée. Pineapple glaze. Brûléed sugar crunch. Topped with a cherry… because why not? This slice is summer, childhood, and flex-worthy technique in one.​

But let’s really break it down. This isn’t just about layers of flavor—it’s a proof of concept. TropiKool Slice exists to remind you: fancy isn’t about who you are or where you trained—it’s about how you deliver. What if a pineapple upside-down cake could hold its own on fine china? What if a layer of Kool-Aid-infused coconut gelée made you rethink what belongs in a gelée—and why it doesn’t need to be called “jello” to matter?​

The brûléed sugar crunch isn’t just a texture play—it’s a statement. That fancy is crafted from life, not legacy.
Just like how I use Oishii Omakase strawberries—​some of the world’s most exquisite berries—and cook them down with Swedish Fish to make the filling for my strawberry shortcake. That’s not fusion for trend’s sake—that’s memory, nostalgia, and high-end technique rolled into one.​FreshDirect

This slice, like so many of my creations, is where Kool-Aid meets gelée, corner store meets pastry case, and experience meets elegance.

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A post shared by Kareem Youngblood (@kareem_youngblood)

Early Food Discovery: From Fire to Fermentation

Humanity’s culinary journey began long before restaurants and recipe books. In fact, prehistoric humans were the original experimental chefs. Anthropologists believe our ancestors started cooking with fire nearly 2 million years ago – perhaps by tossing raw meat into flames and finding it sizzled into something new​nationalgeographic.com. Mastering fire for cooking was a revolutionary step that made food more digestible and nutritious, fueling the development of the human brain​nationalgeographic.com. By the Paleolithic era, people were building simple hearths, and for most of human history “over an open fire was the one and only way to cook a meal”​nationalgeographic.com.

As humans settled and societies advanced, they discovered or invented a host of techniques still fundamental today – often by necessity or accident. Fermentation likely began with prehistoric people leaving fruit or grain to naturally ferment into alcohol or leavened bread. Archaeologists have found evidence of cooking fish with controlled fire from 780,000 years ago, dramatically pushing back the timeline of humanity’s first “recipe”​sciencedaily.com​sciencedaily.com. Early farmers learned to preserve excess harvests by drying, smoking, and pickling, giving birth to staples like dried fish, jerky, and pickled vegetables. None of these innovations came from a formal school or a famous chef – they were the cumulative work of generations of anonymous experimenters across different cultures.

However, formal culinary history often ignores these foundations. Textbooks may start with the first known written recipes or the lavish banquets of kings, implicitly crediting elites for culinary progress. In truth, the essential building blocks of cooking – from boiling bones for broth to fermenting milk into cheese – were developed by ordinary people (frequently women in home kitchens) long before any chef codified them. Pre-modern cooks, whether roasting tubers in the ashes or fermenting wild honey into mead, laid the groundwork for the cuisines we celebrate today. Their contributions, lacking individual names or Michelin stars, are easy to overlook. Yet without that slow collective innovation, there would be no haute cuisine at all.

From Hearth to Haute Cuisine: Informal Knowledge Behind Classical Techniques

Many core cooking techniques taught in culinary schools originated as folk knowledge or survival skills in marginalized or rural communities. The difference lies in who gets credit and prestige. For example, braising – the slow cooking of tough cuts of meat in liquid – is a classic technique in French gastronomy, essential for dishes like coq au vin or boeuf bourguignon. But braising wasn’t invented in a royal kitchen; it evolved in farms and villages as a way to make old roosters or sinewy beef edible. Peasant cooks found that a long, slow simmer with wine or vegetables could transform scraps into a tender, flavorful stew. Generations later, those same methods were refined and taught as pillars of French “grand cuisine.” The mother sauces of French cooking (espagnole, velouté, etc.) also have humble roots – making sauce was originally a way to stretch and enrich whatever ingredients were on hand. A simple roux of flour and fat, a technique known to home cooks for thickening gravies, became the basis of high-class sauces. In short, elite cuisine often codified and elevated existing home cooking practices rather than creating them from scratch.

Consider barbecue, a technique now so universal that chefs worldwide learn the art of smoking and slow-cooking meat. The origins of barbecue underscore how informal and indigenous knowledge fed into mainstream culinary tradition. The term “barbecue” itself comes from barbacoa, a word and cooking method from the Taíno people of the Caribbean, referring to slow-cooking meat over a wood frame​eater.com. Enslaved Africans and Native Americans in the Americas adopted and further developed barbecue techniques – from jerk cooking in Jamaica to pit barbecues in the American South – long before these methods appeared in any cookbook​eater.com. Today’s culinary students might learn the science of smoking meats, but often without acknowledgment that African and indigenous cooks “shaped the culture of New World barbecuing traditions” that modern barbecue rests on​eater.com. As food historian Michael Twitty notes, the Black contributions to barbecue in America “are often stripped out” by others when recounting its history​eater.com – a clear case of erasure of informal innovators.

Many other techniques tell a similar story. Confit (slow-cooking meat in its own fat) was a French farm method of preserving meat before refrigeration; today duck confit is a gourmet item. Curing and smoking fish or pork allowed sailors and peasants to preserve protein for winter – now those charcuterie and smoked delicacies appear on fine dining menus. Fermented foods like sauerkraut, kimchi, and yogurt were born from necessity in various poor communities around the world, yet now chefs prize fermentation for its complex flavors. Even the cast-iron skillet baking behind a simple upside-down cake (more on that soon) harkens back to 19th-century hearth cooking​dolesunshine.com. In short, the knowledge of grandmothers and street vendors underpins much of what is taught by master chefs. The difference is that culinary institutions historically did not value that knowledge until it was reframed in a European fine dining context. This disconnect between informal origin and formal credit is a running theme in culinary evolution.

Haute Cuisine and the Hierarchy of Cuisines

By the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, French cuisine had positioned itself at the top of a global hierarchy of taste. French aristocracy and chefs like Carême and Escoffier codified “haute cuisine” (high cuisine) with elaborate techniques, rich sauces, and meticulous presentations​britannica.com​britannica.com. This cuisine was explicitly contrasted with the “peasant or bourgeois cuisine” of France – rustic dishes with bold, earthy flavors were deemed less refined, something to be polished or left behind​britannica.com. As Britannica notes, classic grande cuisine strove for a harmonious, artful character, distancing itself from the “allowable” robust flavors of peasant cooking​britannica.com. In essence, the French culinary establishment created an aesthetic of sophistication that implicitly set elite, urban, European food apart from “coarse” country cooking. With France’s global influence (and later the prestige of Michelin stars and culinary schools), this notion spread widely.

Italian cuisine likewise gained renown, though often Italian food abroad split into two images: the homey red-sauce dishes of immigrants (initially seen as cheap and low-class) versus the rarified truffle-laden fare of Northern Italian restaurants. Still, by the late 20th century, French and Italian were firmly entrenched as the epitome of fine dining in the Western imagination. Upscale restaurants in New York, London, or Tokyo were likely to feature French techniques or Italian ingredients, and these cuisines commanded high prices. This dynamic was self-reinforcing: awards and media focused on European cuisine, so aspiring chefs trained in those traditions, opening more French/Italian-style restaurants. As one food writer observed, for decades “the signal that European food was the defining food of our culture became a self-fulfilling prophecy”, with diners, media, and chefs all orbiting around that standard​eater.com. French gastronomy was even enshrined by UNESCO as an intangible cultural heritage, reflecting its global status.

Meanwhile, other cuisines were systemically undervalued in fine dining. Complex, flavorful food traditions from Asia, Africa, and the Americas were often pigeonholed as cheap eats, street food, or simply “ethnic” food – delicious but not deserving of luxury pricing or formal accolades. This has as much to do with class and race as with taste. In the United States, for example, Southern soul food (rooted in African American cooking) and Caribbean cuisine have rarely been featured in Michelin-starred restaurants or charging $100 tasting menus. It’s certainly not for lack of flavor or technique – these cuisines are rich with history and skill – but because they emerged from oppressed communities (enslaved people, poor rural families, colonized islands) and thus carried a stigma in the eyes of fine dining’s gatekeepers. Soul food was associated with poverty and servitude, and Caribbean food with casual beach shacks or takeout, rather than white-tablecloth service. The result is a kind of culinary classism: dishes traditionally made by European gentry or bourgeoisie are deemed worthy of high prices, while dishes of the global working classes are expected to be inexpensive.

This disparity is evident in restaurant pricing and prestige. Studies of ethnic restaurant menus in America have noted that French or Japanese restaurants often command significantly higher average prices than, say, Mexican or Indian restaurants serving dishes of equal complexity. In the hierarchy of cuisines, French cuisine long sat at the top in terms of prestige (and cost), followed by other Western European cuisines, while foods from the Global South were relegated to a lower tier. One outcome is that a French chef making an Asian-inspired dish might get more acclaim than an Asian cook making the same dish. This dynamic shades into cultural appropriation: when the same food is treated as cheap or low-class in the hands of its originators, but chic (and pricey) when repackaged by someone from a more dominant culture.

Prestige on a Plate: Foie Gras vs. Chitlins, Macarons vs. Pineapple Cake

Nothing illustrates the perception gap between “fine dining” cuisine and traditional home cuisine better than comparing specific foods. Consider the following examples of high-status European delicacies versus beloved dishes from American home cooking:

High-End DelicacyOrigins & PrestigeHumble DishOrigins & PerceptionFoie Gras (fatty duck/goose liver) 🌟A luxury delicacy in French cuisine, celebrated for its rich, buttery flavor​en.wikipedia.org. Traditionally served in haute cuisine settings; often costs $40–80 per pound and is protected as part of France’s gastronomic heritage​en.wikipedia.org.Chitlins (chitterlings) 🐖Pig intestines simmered until tender. A classic of Southern African-American soul food, born from slavery-era resourcefulness – enslaved people were left with the hog’s intestines and other off-cuts​southernliving.com. Chitlins are considered a “Southern delicacy” in their community​southernliving.com, but are often stigmatized elsewhere as a smelly, low-status food.French Macarons (almond meringue cookies) 🥮Dainty, brightly colored sandwich cookies with ganache or cream filling. Originating in European high society, macarons are now a symbol of elegant French pâtisserie. They are difficult to perfect and sold at premium prices in boutique pastry shops (often $2–3 per cookie).Pineapple Upside-Down Cake 🍍A retro American dessert of canned pineapple rings and cherries baked under a sweet cake, then flipped to serve. Popularized in the 1920s when Dole held a nationwide pineapple recipe contest (the cake “stole the show” in 1925)​dolesunshine.com. It became a beloved home-baking classic across the U.S., but carries a homespun image – you’re more likely to see it at church potlucks or family dinners than on fine dining menus.

These comparisons reveal how cultural context dictates a food’s valuation. Foie gras – created by force-feeding geese, a practice dating to ancient Egypt – has always been a food of the aristocracy and today is served as a gourmet appetizer in upscale restaurants. Its prestige remains so high that France legally enshrined foie gras as part of its cultural heritage​en.wikipedia.org. In contrast, chitlins emerged from a context of oppression and survival. Enslaved African Americans, given the unwanted parts of the animal, turned intestinal offal into a savory dish through careful cleaning, seasoning, and slow cooking​southernliving.com. Within Black communities, chitlins became a treasured holiday food (a testament to “using everything you’ve got,” as Southern cooks say) and a point of cultural pride. Yet outside those communities, chitlins never escaped the perception of being “poverty food.” They were literally associated with the trash (intestines that would otherwise be discarded) and carry a lingering stereotype of uncleanliness and odor. A French pâté of goose liver might be served on fine china for $30 an ounce, while a bowl of stewed pig intestines is expected to cost only a few dollars – if one can even find it at a restaurant. The gap is clearly not about the inherent worth of the ingredients (both are animal organs, after all) but about whose history and technique is respected. As one Southern writer wryly noted, “livin’ high on the hog” referred to slave-owners taking the choice cuts (higher up on the animal) and leaving the rest – yet those leftovers, like chitlins, were transformed into lasting cuisine​southernliving.com.

A similar story plays out with sweets. French macarons are a triumph of finesse – airy almond meringue shells, sandwiching delicate fillings in pastel hues. They originated in European courts (the concept brought from Italy to France by Catherine de Médicis) and today they epitomize luxury dessert. Macarons are frequently given as gifts in elegant packaging; their price and fragility signal exclusivity. By contrast, pineapple upside-down cake was engineered for mass appeal and convenience. It took off when canned pineapple became widely available; in fact, the Hawaiian Pineapple Company (Dole) received 2,500 submissions for pineapple upside-down cake in their 1925 recipe contest, a testament to its immediate popularity​dolesunshine.com. The cake’s appeal was its simplicity – using a cast-iron skillet, some pantry staples, and the novelty of tropical fruit to create a dessert that looked impressive yet was easy for home cooks. It became an “all-American” dessert that has endured for a century​dolesunshine.com, but one firmly planted in the realm of comfort food. While a macaron might be featured in a Michelin-starred chef’s petit fours, a pineapple upside-down cake would more likely be deemed nostalgic Americana. Only recently have a few chefs tried reimagining such homey desserts for upscale venues (for example, crafting individual pineapple cake tarte Tatin or playful interpretations), but by and large, these items remain separated by a cultural dividing line of fanciness. The macaron is chic; the upside-down cake is quaint.

Ultimately, the prestige disparity between these foods stems from historical power dynamics. Foods favored by wealthy or European communities gained an aura of sophistication (and higher monetary value), whereas equally delicious foods from poorer or non-European communities were marginalized as unsophisticated. It’s a stark illustration of how classism and cultural bias can influence our palate’s value system. Foie gras and macarons enjoy a price premium and admiration that has little to do with nutrition or complexity and much to do with social narratives. Meanwhile, humble creations like chitlins or a skillet cake carry the weight of being seen as “low-class,” despite the skill and love poured into them for generations.

Fusion Cuisine: Innovation or Cultural Borrowing?

In our globalized era, fusion cuisine has become a buzzword – chefs combine elements from different culinary traditions to create something novel. At its best, fusion cuisine is a celebration of creativity and cross-cultural pollination. New flavors emerge when chefs think outside the rigid boundaries of “authentic” cuisine: imagine Japanese sushi techniques applied to Peruvian ingredients (the now-famous Nikkei cuisine), or Indian spices enlivening British pub classics. Many of our favorite “traditional” foods were essentially fusion in their origin – Italian pasta was influenced by Chinese noodles and New World tomatoes, and Middle Eastern shawarma gave rise to Mexican tacos al pastor through Lebanese immigrants. In other words, culinary innovation has always involved cultural exchange. Modern fusion simply makes this exchange explicit and often deliberate.

However, fusion cuisine also sits on a delicate fault line: it can easily tip into cultural appropriation if not handled with respect. There’s a fine line between inspiration and exploitation. For example, a chef might “discover” a street food from a foreign culture and decide to serve a tweaked version in an upscale restaurant. If they give credit to the original and engage with its cultural context, this can be a wonderful homage. But if they present it as a novel creation of their own, or significantly profit while the source community remains unseen, it can spark backlash. Food carries emotional and cultural weight, and there’s a history of dominant cultures discrediting a minority’s cuisine until it becomes trendy in different hands (sometimes called “Columbusing” a food).

We’ve seen real-world controversies: when a Western chef claims to reinvent an Asian or Latin dish without acknowledging those who perfected it over ages. In one notable case, a celebrity American chef opened a “fusion Chinese” restaurant and implied he was elevating the local Chinese food scene – leading to accusations that he belittled generations of Chinese-American cooks. Dishes like pho soup, tacos, sushi burritos, or jerk seasoning have all been subject to fusion riffs that sometimes raised the question: is this genuine appreciation or just exoticizing for profit? The key issues tend to be credit and context. Innovation thrives when cultures learn from each other, but it should be a two-way conversation, not a one-sided taking.

Despite these pitfalls, fusion cuisine has also been a force for positive innovation and breaking down Eurocentric biases. Young chefs from multicultural backgrounds often are fusion cuisine – cooking that blends their heritage with their training. In these cases, fusion can actually reclaim space in fine dining for ingredients and techniques that were previously overlooked. For instance, Chef Nina Compton, originally from St. Lucia, runs a celebrated restaurant in New Orleans where she “blends Caribbean and Southern food with French technique”​eater.com. Her fusion isn’t erasing culture – it’s bringing her own culture into a high-end arena and showcasing its compatibility with classical methods. Similarly, Korean-American chefs in Los Angeles famously created the Korean taco, mixing Korean BBQ flavors with the Mexican taco format; this wasn’t done to appropriate Mexican cuisine, but as an organic expression of the city’s Latino-Asian heritage. Such examples show fusion as a reflection of our interconnected world: both innovative and deeply rooted in the joining of traditions.

In summary, fusion cuisine highlights the tension between borrowing and joining. It reminds us that all cuisines have evolved by borrowing – often without due credit – but also that mindful fusion can give back visibility to the cuisines it draws from. A menu that offers, say, Thai-spiced Italian pasta, could either be a careless gimmick or a thoughtful tribute. The difference lies in the chef’s approach and the story told to diners. As fusion trends continue, the hope is for a more equitable exchange – one that treats the sources of culinary inspiration with honor. After all, innovation and respect are not mutually exclusive in the kitchen.

Reclaiming Home Food in High-End Kitchens

A heartening development in recent years is that chefs from historically marginalized backgrounds are reclaiming and elevating traditional “home foods” at the highest levels of cuisine. They are deliberately blurring the line between what is considered “fine dining” and what is considered “comfort food,” proving that the difference was only ever one of perception and access. The late Edna Lewis, an African-American chef, was a pioneer of this movement in the mid-20th century – treating rural Southern dishes with fine dining finesse in her cookbooks and dinners – but now a new generation is making waves on the restaurant scene.

At the 2018 James Beard Awards (often dubbed the Oscars of the food world), a striking number of top honors went to Black chefs celebrating traditional foodways. These included Rodney Scott, a pitmaster carrying on the African-American whole-hog barbecue tradition, Nina Compton with her Caribbean-Southern fusion, and Edouardo Jordan, whose Seattle restaurant JuneBaby is an ode to the Southern food he grew up eating​eater.com​eater.com. Food writer Korsha Wilson noted the significance: “Their complicated and beautiful act of reclaiming Black foodways and serving it to the public is too powerful to understate. They’re chefs who are making food that represents them — people who are connected to and inspired by the African diaspora.”​eater.com In other words, these chefs are finally telling their own stories on the plate, at a level that commands national respect.

Chef Rodney Scott’s win was particularly symbolic. Barbecue has long been a communal, down-home cooking style, and Black pitmasters in the South preserved techniques going back to slavery (and even to Africa). Yet barbecue was seldom part of fine dining establishments – until now. Scott, who learned to roast whole pigs from his family in a small town, opened an acclaimed restaurant and won Beard’s Best Chef Southeast. His victory, as Twitty observed, helps reclaim barbecue’s Black roots in American culinary history​eater.com. It challenges the notion that an open-fire pit and casual setting cannot produce “award-worthy” cuisine. In the same awards, Nina Compton spoke about coming from a “small island of St. Lucia” to win as an immigrant chef​eater.com, and her cooking at Compère Lapin proudly features ingredients like plantains, cassava, and curry goat – foods of her home – presented with fine dining polish. The French name of her restaurant (meaning “Brother Rabbit,” a folktale character) nods to the very fusion of cultures in her food​eater.com.

Edouardo Jordan’s restaurant JuneBaby, which won Best New Restaurant in America, outright educates diners on the history behind the Southern dishes it serves. The menu is accompanied by an “encyclopedia” that defines terms like African, African-American, and Afro-Caribbean, reminding guests of the deeper story behind fried chicken or collard greens​eater.com. Jordan has written, “Southern food reflects hard times and resourcefulness and is nothing short of beautiful.”​eater.com This powerful statement reframes what others once dismissed as “food of struggle” as indeed beautiful, worthy of celebration. By placing such food in a celebrated restaurant, chefs like Jordan are asserting that beauty and value were always there – it was the gaze of the culinary establishment that needed to change.

Similar examples abound around the world. In London, Michelin-starred restaurant Ikoyi foregrounds West African spices and products in an avant-garde fine dining format. In Mexico City, chefs like Enrique Olvera have taken Mexican street snacks and home recipes to haute cuisine heights (e.g. serving a heriloom corn tostada with caviar). In India, regional comfort foods are being reinvented by upscale restaurants that win international accolades. And in New York, a new wave of Chinese-American and Indian-American chefs are opening stylish restaurants that refuse to dilute their heritage for the sake of Western palates – instead, they invite diners to appreciate these cuisines’ sophistication on their own terms.

What’s crucial is that these efforts are often led by insiders to the culture, or in close collaboration with them, rather than outsiders imposing an upscale veneer. This ensures that elevating a dish doesn’t come at the cost of erasing its soul. A great illustration is the story of Southern desserts: For years, classic Southern sweets like sweet potato pie, banana pudding, or pound cake were rarely seen in fine dining – perhaps deemed too plain. But in 2018, pastry chef Dolester Miles won a James Beard Award for her decades of work making elegant versions of such desserts in Birmingham, Alabama​eater.com. Her victory was a reminder that a perfect pie can be as sublime as a fancy soufflé, and it gave overdue recognition to a style of dessert long undervalued. As the author of the Eater article on that year’s awards noted, “This food and these stories have always been here, have always been interesting — think Edna Lewis, Sylvia Woods, and Jessica Harris — and the Beard judges are finally catching up.”​eater.com In other words, formal culinary institutions are belatedly acknowledging what many people knew: that the talents and traditions of Black and other ethnic cooks “should’ve been part of the conversation all along.”​eater.com

The line between “home food” and “fine dining” is indeed dissolving. We now see white-tablecloth restaurants serving upscale takes on dishes like Nigerian jollof rice, Jamaican oxtail stew, or Appalachian pickled beans – and critics finally taking note of the artistry involved. This reclaiming is not just about charging more money for the same food; it’s about shifting the narrative. It says: our heritage dishes are worthy of technique, investment, and accolades, and we as chefs can honor where they come from while presenting them in new ways. By doing so, these modern chefs also combat the legacy of cultural appropriation and classism. They ensure that when Southern or Caribbean or other “home” cuisines hit the mainstream spotlight, the originators are the ones at center stage, receiving the praise (and financial benefits) for their own culinary heritage.

Conclusion

The evolution of cooking – from ancient humans taming fire to contemporary chefs reimagining soul food – has always been a story of creativity transcending boundaries. Yet whose creativity is celebrated has often been determined by cultural power structures. Techniques born in mud huts and slave quarters traveled, via necessity and conquest, into palace kitchens and culinary textbooks, usually without credit. Certain cuisines rode the waves of empire and economics to be deemed “fine dining,” while others were unfairly relegated to the sidelines, their sophistication overlooked. Issues of cultural appropriation and classism in food are deeply intertwined, manifesting in everything from the price on a dish to the language used to describe it.

Today, however, we are in the midst of a more inclusive telling of culinary history. Scholars and chefs are acknowledging how much of classical cuisine’s DNA comes from informal and marginalized sources – the fermentation knowledge of indigenous tribes, the spice techniques of colonized peoples, the ingenuity of poor home cooks making magic out of scraps. There is also a growing appreciation that “authentic” fine dining can come from any culture. A French chef in a three-star restaurant and a Mexican grandmother in a village may have more in common than was once thought: both carry forward traditions and innovations worthy of respect. As diners, the more we learn the real stories behind our favorite foods, the more we can appreciate a bowl of gumbo or a plate of pasta not only for its taste but for the heritage it represents.

The culinary world is slowly correcting its course, giving credit where it’s due and breaking down the old hierarchy of cuisines. Fusion and innovation will always propel cuisine forward, but there’s a conscious effort now to do so with homage rather than hubris. And as traditional “home foods” find their way onto fine china, they bring a piece of their culture’s soul into spaces that once excluded them. In a sense, the tables are turning – sometimes literally upside-down, like that pineapple cake – to allow everyone a seat. By valuing both foie gras and chitlins, both macarons and pound cake, we enrich the tapestry of global gastronomy. The evolution of cooking is a human story, and it belongs to all of us, across continents and classes. It’s often said that food is the great equalizer, bringing people together. In honoring the full breadth of culinary knowledge – from prehistory’s fire pits to grandma’s secret recipes – we come closer to truly embracing that ideal, one delicious bite at a time.

Sources

• Rebecca Rupp, “A Brief History of Cooking With Fire.” National Geographic (2015) – on early human cooking with fire​nationalgeographic.com.

• Tel-Aviv University research (via ScienceDaily, 2022) – on new evidence of controlled cooking 780,000 years ago​sciencedaily.com​sciencedaily.com.

• Korsha Wilson, “On Black Excellence at This Year’s James Beard Awards.” Eater (2018) – discusses chefs like Edouardo Jordan, Nina Compton, Rodney Scott reclaiming Black foodways​eater.com​eater.com and the history of European cuisine dominance​eater.com.

• Korsha Wilson (via Eater) quoting Michael Twitty – on African contributions to barbecue and their erasure​eater.com.

• Korsha Wilson (via Eater) – on Nina Compton blending Caribbean with French techniques at Compère Lapin​eater.com.

• Southern Living Editors, “What Are Chitlins?… Classic Southern Dish” (2023) – history of chitlins as leftover parts for enslaved people, now a cultural staple​southernliving.com​southernliving.com.

• Dole Sunshine recipe site – history of Pineapple Upside-Down Cake, popularized by a 1925 Dole contest​dolesunshine.com.

• Max Falkowitz, “When Did Lobster Become Food for Rich People?” TASTE (2017) – notes lobster’s shift from peasant food to delicacy by late 1800s​tastecooking.com.

• Wikipedia – “Foie gras” (accessed 2025), notes that foie gras is a prized delicacy of French cuisine​en.wikipedia.org. Also general knowledge on macarons and other foods.

• Britannica – “Grande cuisine” – contrasts French haute cuisine with peasant cuisine​britannica.com.

• Rebecca Flint Marx, “Dolester Miles Finally Gets Her Due,” Food & Wine (2018) – background on Southern desserts in fine dining (implied by Eater piece)​eater.com.

• Michael Twitty, The Cooking Gene (2017) – broader context on African-American culinary history (background reference).

• Various other articles and historical sources on food culture, fusion cuisine, and culinary anthropology​eater.com​eater.com. (All inline citations above.)

The Color Code Challenge: A Mental Health Movement in Full Color

By Kareem Youngblood | As seen on Food Network’s Spring Baking Championship

This May, I’m inviting you to join a movement rooted in joy, visibility, and unapologetic self-expression.

How It Started:

A kid was teased for wearing nail polish. Around that same time, I started getting DMs from strangers saying things like:

“Disgusting for a man to have painted fingernails—especially while baking.”

They thought it would silence me. But what it did was ignite something much bigger.

So I’m choosing to respond with color, joy, and community.

What Is The Color Code Challenge?

The Color Code Challenge is my way of turning judgment into empowerment—for that child, for myself, and for anyone who's ever been made to feel small just for being themselves.

This isn’t about gender or sexuality. It’s about freedom, expression, and protecting mental health with joy.

We’re painting our nails this May to take up space—loudly, proudly, and colorfully—for Mental Health Awareness Month.

But Wait—Do Men Really Wear Nail Polish?

Yes. And they’ve always had.

From rockstars in the '70s, to today’s fashion icons like A$AP Rocky, Lil Yachty, Bad Bunny, and Harry Styles—men of all identities are using nail polish as a form of expression, rebellion, and style.

Recent surveys show over 30% of Gen Z men have worn or tried polish. That’s not fringe. That’s culture.

So why are people still acting brand new about it?

When I posted a reel of myself baking with painted nails, I wasn’t shocked by the polish comments—I was shocked by how bold people felt in my DMs.

“You’re a man. Why would you wear that?”

“This is disgusting.”

I wasn’t hurt—I was energized. Because I realized: joy scares people who want you to shrink.

So let’s give them something bold to look at.

View on Threads

Why Creative Freedom Matters

Whether it’s nail art, food, or fashion—creative freedom is mental freedom.

When you grow up being told to “act right,” “tone it down,” or “be a man,”
you realize that expression isn’t just fun—it’s survival.

Painting my nails doesn’t change who I am.
It reflects who I am: joyful, bold, unbothered.

So this May, I’m inviting you to join me.

How to Join:

🖌️ 1. Use the official Color Code colors
Chosen by the child who inspired this challenge:
Royal Purple, Gold, and Mango Tango

💅🏾 2. Paint your nails
Any or all of the colors. One nail or ten. Fingers or toes—your choice.

📸 3. Take a photo or video

• Show off the color

• Share why you joined (optional!)

• Nail techs can post on behalf of clients (with permission)

📲 4. Post to Instagram using:
#TheColorCodeChallenge

🗓️ Deadline: May 9th

Let’s Get Real:

Have you ever been judged for how you express yourself?

Do you have a story of reclaiming joy when someone tried to shame you?

👉🏾 Drop a comment below.
👉🏾 Tag someone who needs to see this.
👉🏾 Share your nails, your joy, your story.

We’re not just fighting bullying—we’re building community through beauty.

Let’s make this challenge impossible to ignore.
Let’s make visibility viral.
Let’s protect mental health—with color.

💅🏾 Join the challenge now at: www.kareemyoungblood.com/thecolorcodechallenge
📲 Follow the movement: @kareem_youngblood
📣 Use the hashtag: #TheColorCodeChallenge

THE BAKE with Kareem Youngblood: A Celebration of Sweets, Storytelling & Soul

From the stoop in Crown Heights to national TV and now back where it all began — Kareem Youngblood is bringing it full circle with THE BAKE, a live dessert experience like no other. We sat down with Kareem to talk about the event, his journey, and why this night means so much.

Q: What is THE BAKE, and how did the idea come about?

A: THE BAKE is a live dessert demo, tasting, and podcast experience with storytelling, comedy, and a little bit of truth-telling magic. It’s like if a stand-up show, a food event, and a TED Talk had a baby — and that baby came with cake.

The idea came from wanting to create something that blends everything I love: baking, real talk, making people laugh, and sharing the behind-the-scenes journey that most people don’t get to see. I wanted a space where folks could eat, feel, and be inspired — all at the same time.

Q: How does THE BAKE reflect your journey as a baker and creator?

A: This event is my journey. From struggling to make ends meet while building my brand, to being on shows like Sugar Rush, Chopped Sweets, and Spring Baking Championship, everything I’ve done has been about creating something from nothing.

I’m not classically trained. I didn’t go to culinary school. I built The Cupka'ak Bar from scratch — literally — and I’ve worn every hat along the way: baker, designer, delivery guy, marketer, everything. THE BAKE is my way of showing people what’s possible when you stay true to your vision, even when it’s messy or hard.

Q: Why did you choose NY Cake as the venue for this event?

A: Because NY Cake is where it all started for me. 11 years ago, I walked into their old store and spent every dollar I had on baking tools. I didn’t even know what I was really doing yet — I just knew I had to try. That place sparked my creative passion and gave me the tools (literally and figuratively) to build the life I have now.

So to come back all these years later and throw my first live event there? That’s full-circle energy. I’m emotional just thinking about it.

Q: What can guests expect from the event experience?

A: Expect desserts that hit, stories that go deep, laughs that sneak up on you, and a whole lot of love in the room. You’ll get a live baking demo of one of my top desserts from Spring Baking Championship, plus tastings, an open bar, giveaways, and the taping of my live podcast.

It’s not just a food event. It’s a celebration. And it’s my belated 40th birthday — so trust me, I’m bringing the energy.

Q: What makes this more than just a food event?

A: Because this is about the journey. It’s about telling the truth — not just the highlight reel. We’re talking grief, struggle, being broke, building a dream, losing people, finding yourself. All while sharing sweet bites and good vibes.

People come for the cake, but they leave with something deeper.

Q: Can you tell us about the 'Shop + Win' section and how people can get involved?

A: Yes! During the event, you can shop baking supplies from NY Cake for yourself, or buy something to donate to a young aspiring baker. Every purchase enters you into a raffle to win a $150 NY Cake gift card toward a class. No purchase minimum — I just want people to feel part of it.

We’ll also be giving away Ray-Ban Meta smart glasses, Sugarfina candy gift sets, and other surprises — no purchase necessary to enter those giveaways. It’s my way of saying thank you and making the night extra special.

Q: Why was it important for you to include giveaways and a way to give back?

A: Because I remember being the kid who couldn’t afford half the tools I needed. I’ve always believed in "baking it forward" — if I have a platform now, I want to use it to create access, inspire, and uplift others. That’s the whole point.

And I just love giving gifts. Especially when it’s things people wouldn’t expect — like Ray-Bans and candy and cake. It’s fun and it’s full of heart.

Q: What do you hope people walk away with after attending THE BAKE?

A: I want people to feel seen. I want them to leave full — not just from the dessert, but from the energy in the room. I hope they walk away feeling like they can keep going, keep dreaming, and that their story matters too.

Q: Any advice for aspiring bakers or creatives who want to build something from the ground up?

A: Start where you are. Use what you have. Don’t wait to be perfect or polished. Be loud about your ideas, even if they’re messy. And protect your dream like it’s the only thing keeping you alive — because sometimes it is.

THE BAKE: Live Demo, Tasting + Podcast
📍 NY Cake, NYC
🗓️ May 10, 2025
🎟️ Tickets + Info

Church Lady: A Slice of Sunday

This cake is more than yellow layers and chocolate frosting—it’s a memory.

It’s sitting at my grandparents’ place after church, still dressed in your Sunday best, listening to grown folks talk, laugh, and sneak in gossip between gospel records and reruns of old shows.

The Church Lady cake is classic. Familiar. Comforting.
Just like the women who raised us with tough love, hard prayers, and unbeatable pound cake.

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I don’t drink milk—never have. So my slice was always paired with a red Solo cup of that iconic church punch. You know the one. Sweet, bright red, ice cold. If the Caribbean lady made it that week? It might’ve had guava juice… maybe papaya. You never knew—but it always hit.

This is that cake.
The one that shows up at every occasion but especially matters on Sundays.
The one that says “you’re home.”

If you bake it pls tag me! also pls share your grandparents recipes with me, i would love to try it! and maybe we can make some content together around it!

Embracing the Spotlight: How Engagement Fuels Growth (Because Life Is Messy, But It’s Still Sweet)

“Don’t read the comments,” they say.
I say, dive into them headfirst — like a glitter sprinkle into warm cake batter.

I’ve read the comments. Every last one.
The shady ones. The sweet ones. The “how did HE get on the show?” ones.
And you know what? I’m not ducking. I’m not dodging.
I’m right there — screenshotting, sipping tea, soaking it in.

Because part of notoriety is critique, and part of being self-made means learning how to listen without folding.
This isn’t just about ego — it’s about engagement, growth, and strategy.

What They See Is What I Built

When Spring Baking Championship Season 11 dropped, there were 13 contestants.
All talented. All worthy.
But somehow, you remembered me. You said my name. You debated my cake. You laughed, you commented, you reposted — and even when you didn’t mean to support, you helped me grow.

I’m not here because of a fluke.
I’m here because I’ve got:

• 11 years of real baking experience

• An Ivy League digital marketing education

• A brand, a story, and a product I built from the ground up

• And most of all — VISION

Let’s Talk Numbers — Real Ones

Since the premiere aired:

• 3,200+ visits to my website in under two weeks

• 2,100+ pageviews

• Visitors are spending 5+ minutes on my blog posts

• 59% of site traffic is from iPhones — meaning people are looking me up live while watching

That’s impact. That’s reach. That’s conversion through curiosity.

People aren’t just watching.
They’re searching my name.
They’re checking my site.
They’re reading, clicking, and most importantly — engaging.

The Comments Ain’t Just Drama — They’re Data

Sure, I’ve seen things like:

“Kareem is so sweet, but that cake? He gotta go!”

And I’ve seen people ride for me too, like:

“Okay but y’all can’t act like ANY of those cakes were good. At least his had a story.”

Here’s the thing: even the critique is a win.
Because engagement fuels growth.
Whether you came for the cake or stayed for the charisma — I got you here.
And that’s marketing, baby.

Every Reddit thread, TikTok stitch, tweet, comment, or roast is a reminder that I’m memorable.
That’s the goal in brand-building — be unforgettable.

How to Track the Buzz

Want to follow your own impact in real time? Here’s how I’m doing it:

1. Google Search Console — See what keywords people are searching to find your site. I track phrases like “Kareem Youngblood Baker” and “Spring Baking Championship Kareem.”

2. Squarespace or Website Analytics — Watch for spikes in traffic after an episode airs. Look for bounce rate, time on page, and where people are clicking from (Reddit? Instagram? Direct?).

3. Google Trends — You can literally compare your name to other contestants or even other seasons. I saw spikes in searches for me specifically in Puerto Rico, Australia, and the U.S.

4. Reddit & Social Media Search — Type your name into Reddit or TikTok and sort by “new.” You’ll see the rawest, realest convos — that’s gold for learning what sticks.

5. Screenshots are receipts — Don’t just read, document. Save praise, critique, confusion — it’s all part of your growth archive.

If I Have to Be the Face of “Try Anyway,” I Will

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I’ve been in the bottom. Twice.
And I still showed up with a smile, flavor, and the kind of hustle that can’t be taught.

So if I have to be the one to:

• Take the Ls with grace

• Show your kids that winning includes losing

• Inspire someone sitting at home to say, “Wait... maybe I could do that too”

Then I’ll be that bitch every day.

Kareem On Brooklyn Roof top in PANGAIA

Like Me, Like PANGAIA — It’s About Sustainability

This moment? It’s not just about cakes or clapbacks.
It’s about transformation and sustainability — the kind you feel in your spirit and your strategy.

Turning critique into fuel.
Turning struggle into story.
Turning your flowers into down — literally (FLWRDWN™).

That’s why I connect so deeply with PANGAIA — not just as a brand, but as a mirror of my mindset.

• Pan = all, everyone, everything

• Gaia = Mother Earth

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Together? It’s unity. It’s innovation. It’s vision.
They’re not just making clothes — they’re merging science and nature to create a better future.
That’s what I’m doing, too — just with sugar, story, and soul.

PANGAIA is the only brand I really want to wear right now.
Their values are my values.
Their mission to sustain the Earth? Matches my mission to sustain the dream.

✨ Use promo code [Qvrkv0zs6] for a discount on your first order — if you’re ready to wear something that means something.

Final Slice 🍰

I didn’t come to serve perfection.
I came to serve realness, heart, and hustle.

So if you see me in the comments, don’t be surprised.
I’m not there to fight — I’m there to learn, to laugh, to listen, and to keep baking forward.

Because life?
Life is messy. But it’s still sweet.

And I’m just getting started.

WTF is SEO? A Straightforward Guide to Understanding the Basics

If you’ve ever heard someone mention “SEO” and thought, WTF is that?, you’re not alone. Whether you're a creative entrepreneur, a small business owner, or just someone trying to grow your digital presence—understanding SEO (Search Engine Optimization) is a game-changer.

This guide breaks it down without the jargon, so you can finally get what SEO is and how to use it to boost your website traffic.

Why Should You Even Bother With SEO?

Let’s start with the big question: Why does SEO matter? Simple. SEO helps people find your site when they’re searching for something online. And get this—45.1% of desktop users click on organic search results, while only 1.8% click on paid ads. That’s a huge difference.

Even basic SEO can lead to more traffic, more leads, and more revenue. So yeah, it’s worth your time.

Indexing Basics: Make Sure You’re Seen

If Google can’t crawl and index your website, it won’t show up in search results. That means your audience won’t even know you exist. Use tools like Google Search Console to check your indexing status, and always submit an XML sitemap to help Google understand your site’s structure.

Keyword Research 101: Finding the Right Words

If SEO had a love language, it would be keywords. These are the words and phrases people are typing into search engines to find content. Tools like SEMRUSH’s Keyword Magic Tool can help you figure out which keywords have high search volume and low competition—basically, the sweet spot.

Content is King: Writing That Ranks

Once you’ve got the right keywords, it’s all about how you use them. Write content that satisfies the user’s search intent. Tools like SEMRUSH’s SEO Content Template will guide you on optimal text length, related keywords, and even where to get backlinks.

Optimizing Your Pages: On-Page SEO Essentials

Want each page of your website to rank higher? Focus on:

• Title tags

• Meta descriptions

• Heading tags (H1, H2, H3)

• Clean URLs

Don’t forget to optimize your images and use internal linking to guide both users and search engines through your site.

Building Authority: The Power of Backlinks

Backlinks = Digital street cred. When reputable sites link to yours, it tells Google your content is valuable. You can build backlinks by:

• Getting featured in articles via HARO

• Submitting to quality directories

• Connecting with business associations

Behind the Scenes: Technical SEO Basics

There’s a lot going on under the hood of your website. Technical SEO makes sure all of it runs smoothly. Key things to check:

• Your robots.txt file

• Core Web Vitals (speed, responsiveness, etc.)

• Whether your site uses HTTPS (secure browsing)

Going Mobile: Mobile-First Optimization

Google now indexes the mobile version of your site first, so it better be on point. Make sure your site is:

• Fully responsive

• Easy to navigate on smaller screens

• Not bogged down by unnecessary animations

Tracking Progress: Know What’s Working

You can’t improve what you don’t measure. Track metrics like:

• Organic search traffic

• Keyword rankings

• Bounce rate

• Engagement

• Conversions

Use tools like Google Analytics 4 and SEMRUSH’s Position Tracking Tool to keep tabs on your SEO wins (and where you need to do better).

Final Thoughts

SEO isn’t just for marketing nerds—it’s for anyone who wants their work to be found. With the right foundation, a bit of strategy, and the tools mentioned here, you’ll be on your way to better visibility, more traffic, and higher conversions.

Let’s stop asking WTF is SEO? and start making it work for us.

Want this as a downloadable PDF or email mini-course? Let me know and I’ll make it happen!

Two Weeks With Julian: From Spring Baking Championship Baking Battles to Chosen Family

Being on Spring Baking Championship was an unexpected dream come true. Out of nowhere, I suddenly had 12 new people in my life—and we were being put through the most for national TV. And when I say "the most," I don’t even mean it in a bad way. But what y’all see on TV takes hours to film.

There were 13 of us in total, all doing tastings, judging, and trying to hold it together on set. Then, after filming, it was just us again—crammed in our shared holding room, full of snacks and a couch that lowkey eats you if you sit too long. We were all full of anxiety, looking like deer in headlights.

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After we wrapped each day, we only had each other. Nobody else could really understand what we were going through. Julian and I would meet up in the garden at the end of the day to just let it all out.

When you get home, it’s like coming back from war. You’re living with this weird kind of PTSD, and the only people who truly get it are the ones who were there with you. Julian, myself, and a few others went through our own versions of post-show depression.

It didn’t matter how long you stayed or if you won—it was over. The world went back to normal, but you’re stuck living for the moment it airs.

Sometimes you dread it. Like, OMG, everyone’s gonna see me f up. The longer you’re on the show, the more chances there are to have a bad bake.

So in July, Julian and I spent two weeks together.
Week one: Desert Hot Springs—and a time was HAD! It was 110 degrees and I was like, is this HELL? They said, “At least it’s not 120,” and I was like, CELSIUS?! 😂
It was pool, food, and party all day.

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Then we headed back to Julian’s home in Folsom.
I spent time with him, his family, the dogs and cats, and celebrated his nephew’s birthday. I got to see him be Uncle Julian—which hit me in the feels. I know that life—being the one making the cake for the party, all eyes on you.

I spent my days at the shops, getting content, eating everything. And I mean everything. It was all so, so, SO good.

Honestly, when I go back, I might skip hugging Julian and run straight into the arms of that damn cinnamon roll made with laminated croissant dough.

Now, we’re a force to be reckoned with.
We’ve spent the year developing concepts for content and shows we want to produce ourselves.

Our TV competition days? They’re turning into TV hosting days.
It’s only up from here.

We all took a risk. We leaped. And somehow, our worlds collided in the best way.
We bonded over the lives we’ve lived, the things we’ve overcome.

Julian’s wife? That’s my sister from another mister—we connect hard.
Those two weeks together, plus our days off during filming, were heavenly.

We’re building a chosen family.
And being there, seeing what Julian has created? I was so proud.
He even pays extra for the insurance policies to make sure his staff gets the good stuff.

Julian isn’t just a pastry chef.
He’s a man, a father, a husband, and an agent of change, love, fun, and positivity.

I Love Yall! Are you in Folsom? Lets have some fun!

CLICK THE PIC FOR RSVP PAGE

I Quit My Job 4 Spring Baking Championship!

If you searched Kareem Spring Baking Championship, Kareem Bakery Brooklyn, or Kareem Youngblood, let me give you what you came for: the truth. No sugarcoating. Just the real, sweet, and sometimes sticky path to choosing myself.

Let’s talk about the part they don’t show on TV.

Spring 2024. I was working full-time at a nonprofit in Brooklyn, holding down an entire program by myself. For over a year, I was the only person on my team, and I built the whole program identity from scratch—branding, flyers, outreach, and a full website redesign for the entire organization.

Kareem and Family watching Spring Baking Championship

I was also their unofficial in-house baker. I had already been on Netflix’s Sugar Rush and Food Network’s Chopped Sweets, and every birthday or staff event, I was the one making cakes. They loved name-dropping me like I was their own little office flex. But support? That was a different story.

Eventually, they hired someone else to “help,” but by then there wasn’t enough work for one of us, let alone two. So I ended up rebranding other departments and managing projects far beyond my title. Meanwhile, leadership barely showed up and when they did, it felt like I was working for people who were more concerned about appearances than real impact.

I’ll never forget the day I asked the team to Google “HIV testing near me.” We were sitting in a building that offered HIV testing—yet the closest result online was three miles away. We were struggling to get our numbers up, and I brought a solution. Free. Easy. Immediate. Did they fix it? Of course not.

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If you run a business or nonprofit, you can fix this:

• Claim or create a Google Business Profile: google.com/business

• Add accurate location, hours, and services

• Use keywords your community is actually searching for

• Ask clients to leave reviews

It’s free. It’s fast. And it’s one of the easiest ways to make sure people can find you when they need you.

Then the Call Came…

When I was cast on Spring Baking Championship Season 11, I was ready. I asked for 1.5 weeks of PTO and maybe 2 weeks unpaid.

Their response?

“Ugh, no… you don’t have the time.”

That was all I needed to hear.

I had completed a digital marketing bootcamp through Columbia. I had the skills. I had the drive. I knew I wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass me by.

So I resigned that same day—just in time to get paid out for my PTO. My last check? $1,500, which hit my account the week I landed in LA to film.

Eight Months of Nothing but Faith

After filming, I came home to zero income and no job offers. I was unemployed for eight months. No checks. Just faith, hustle, and the belief that this wasn’t the end of my story—it was the beginning of a bigger one.

Then it happened.

KAREEMYOUNGBLOODPORT by kareem youngblood

I landed my first major digital marketing contract with a research lab at Columbia University, doing what I love: content strategy, HIV prevention messaging, design, storytelling—my lane. And I’ve been in my bag ever since.

And now? I'm trending.
People are searching:
Kareem Spring Baking Championship. Kareem Bakery Brooklyn. Kareem Youngblood.
And they’re finding me.

Don’t Tell Me What Not To Do

I get why they tell us not to quit our jobs for a TV show. But in my case? Quitting was the move. It was the only move.

It could’ve gone bad. It did, for a bit. But now I’m building a future that makes sense for me. I’m mixing purpose with passion, strategy with sugar, legacy with layers.

So the next time someone tells you not to do what feels right for you, ask yourself:

What’s your dreams come true?

Because mine started the moment I walked away from a job and walked into my calling.

What would you do? Pls comment and engane in the conversation

“How U DOIN” Sherri

Kareem Youngblood and Sherri Shepherd

Back in the early 2000s, I got my hands on some tickets to The Wendy Williams Show, and let me tell you—it was pure magic. If you were an '80s or '90s baby, especially from NYC, you knew Wendy was that girl. When she said your name, whether it was good, bad, or a legendary How you doin'?, your ass was FAMOUS.

Growing up, I wanted to see my name in lights. I also had this wild thought that I could somehow suppress my sexuality in public—until my inevitable Wendy interview where she would hit me with a How U Doin’? For those who don’t know, that phrase started as a way of greeting among gay men, and when Wendy said it, it was basically a knowing “we see you, sis.” I thought I was hiding back then, but she would’ve clocked me immediately. It was my nightmare, but also…my dream. And I wanted it bad!

Once How U Doin’? became just a catchphrase for TV, I was already deep in the Wendy universe. I went to the show a lot. Marco Glorious—the audience producer and ultimate hype man—made the experience addictive, and Wendy? She always took it home.

Have you ever seen someone and felt like they were going to be your friend? That’s how I felt about Marco. Yeah, he’s a King Size snack, but I like gummy candy, so it wasn’t even about that. There was just something there. Somehow, we ended up Facebook friends.

Fast forward: I start baking professionally. One day, I get invited to bring cupcakes to The Wendy Williams Show for a breast cancer survivor makeover with Mary Alice Stephenson. My name was on the green room door! It was surreal. After that, I kept going back.

Then came 2020. I landed on Chopped Sweets after Sugar Rush, but NYC media doesn’t really care about us small fish. I wanted to make my own moment. I asked a “friend” to interview me on IG Live, but they hit me with, “I don’t know, I gotta get my eyebrows done.” BITCH. At that moment, I was like, I’m getting Oprah.

But really, I wanted Marco. We were just Facebook friends, had met a few times, but I figured he wouldn’t remember me. Still, I had a message typed out to him that I never sent. Well, after the eyebrow excuse, I hit send.

Next thing I know, Marco picks me and Manny up from Brooklyn, drives us to a studio in Westchester, we film the interview, eat dinner with the whole crew, and he drives us home.

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Then, Manny and I made it to one of the final recordings of The Wendy Williams Show. A chef from Food Network was there. During the break, Marco—IN FRONT OF WENDY—announces, “We also have another chef from Food Network in the house!” He made me stand up. I had on my orange red bottoms. Wendy nodded, smiled, looked me up and down, and hit me with a thumbs-up. That was it. That was my Wendy moment.

But now we’ve got a new queen in town. Wendy will always be an icon, but Sherri, it’s YOU popping up in my dreams now!

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For Marco’s birthday, I made cupcakes, and Sherri was there. We sat right next to each other. I told her how much I love that she includes her team in everything—how she brings them along for the cool moments, making sure they shine. The next day, she talked about the party on her show—and they even showed my cupcakes on air!

Then, on Monday, March 10th—the morning Spring Baking Championship Season 11 premiered—I went to The Sherri Show and brought cupcakes for the whole set. They gave me the full VIP treatment. And now? I’m daydreaming of sitting on that couch, crying my eyes out, telling my whole story.

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Sherri, if you ever write “And we had CupKA’AKs” in your handwriting, I’d get it TATTOOED. And I still want to say How U Doin’?—just to make that dream come true!

10 Tips for Caregiver Creators: Balancing Caregiving and Creativity

Kareem and His Grandpa at University at Buffalo Graduation class of 2008

Taking care of a loved one while trying to pursue your creative work isn’t easy—trust me, I’ve been there. Before home hospice started for my grandpa, I had to find ways to make it all work. Cooking, cleaning, caregiving, and still making space for my dreams. It’s overwhelming, but possible. If you’re a creator balancing caregiving, here are 10 tips that helped me keep going:

1. Meal Prep to Save Time
   When you’re a caregiver, time is everything. Prepping meals in advance can save you hours in the week. I relied on things like canned sliced potatoes to make home fries and breakfast bowls—quick, filling, and easy.

2. Have Go-To Quick but Healthy Breakfasts
   Mornings can be hectic, and skipping meals isn’t an option. Keep quick, healthy options ready—overnight oats, smoothies, or eggs with prepped potatoes. A good breakfast sets you up for the day.

3. Create a Dedicated Creative Space
   The hardest part can be starting. Have a space that’s always ready to go—camera set up, lights in place, tools within reach. That way, when inspiration hits (or when you finally get a moment), you can jump right in. I made this happen while caring for my grandpa, setting up a giant canvas wall to divide our spaces. While I thought he’d be annoyed that he had to be quiet while I filmed, he actually loved watching and hearing everything unfold.

4. Communicate Your Needs
   Let the person you’re caring for know what you’re doing and what you need from them. When I filmed PinPals with Stephanie Boswell after Chopped, my grandpa was right on the other side of that canvas wall. Instead of being upset, he found joy in hearing the buzz of creativity happening in our home. Those moments were special.

5. Make Sure They Have What They Need Before You Start
   Set them up comfortably before diving into work. Water, snacks, TV remote, or anything else they might need so you don’t have to keep stopping.

6. Use Pockets of Time Wisely
   Sometimes, you won’t get long hours to create. Use those short moments—write down ideas, edit a clip, sketch a design. Small steps still move you forward. Filming while caregiving meant I had to maximize every break and in-between moment.

7. Give Yourself Grace
   Some days will be hard. You might feel like you’re failing at both caregiving and creating. You’re not. You’re doing your best, and that’s enough. When I booked PinPals, I was balancing the weight of my grandpa’s care and the excitement of creating something new. It was a lot, but I made it work.

8. Find Ways to Involve Them
   If they enjoy watching you work, let them be part of it in small ways. My grandpa loved hearing the buzz of creativity even when he wasn’t physically involved. Sometimes, just knowing they’re there, watching you build your dreams, makes all the difference.

9. Stay Organized
   Juggling caregiving and creativity means staying on top of things. Use lists, schedules, or even voice memos to keep track of ideas and tasks. Having a structured setup made it easier to switch from caregiver mode to creator mode when I had the chance.

10. Remember Why You’re Doing This
    You’re not just creating for yourself—you’re documenting your journey, your passion, and your resilience. And one day, when you look back, you’ll see just how powerful that was. Every video, every project, every moment spent balancing it all—it’s part of your story.

Being a caregiver doesn’t mean giving up on your creative work—it just means adjusting, adapting, and finding new ways to make it happen. If you’re in this position, I see you. Keep going. You got this.

My Cake Isn’t from the Nether? Hold On, Y’all… Hear Me Out!

Defending My Warped Forest Cake: A True Minecraft-Inspired Creation in Spring Baking Championship Episode 2

Intro: My Cake Was a Tribute to the Warped Forest—Not a Mistake

The Warped Forest is a biome that is found in the Nether dimension and was added in the Nether Update (Minecraft 1.16). It is known for its greenish-blue landscape and tree-like structures. This is the only Nether biome where you can find enderman.

Episode 2 of Spring Baking Championship challenged us to bring Minecraft to life in cake form, and I got the Netherworld as my assigned biome. Naturally, I went deep into Minecraft lore and pulled inspiration from one of the most unique, surreal, and underrated biomes in the game—the Warped Forest.

For those who don’t know, the Warped Forest is the most peaceful part of the Nether, but it’s still otherworldly. The vivid blue-green colors, eerie fungi, and glowing shroomlights make it feel like a dreamscape, and I wanted my cake to capture that magic. But when the judges saw it, they didn’t quite get it. So let me break it down.

What Is the Warped Forest?

The Warped Forest is a biome introduced in Minecraft’s Nether Update (1.16). Unlike the fiery chaos of the rest of the Nether, this space has:

• Warped Nylium-covered ground (a teal-blue version of the Nether’s terrain)

• Giant Warped Trees with twisting vines

• Glowing Shroomlights nestled within the foliage

• Endermen lurking around, the only mobs that spawn there

This isn’t a hellscape—it’s a mystical, almost alien landscape inside the Nether, where vibrant blues and eerie greens contrast against the lava-filled world around it.

How My Cake Captured the Warped Forest Vibe

When given the Netherworld as my assignment, I knew I didn’t want to go with the expected lava-and-fire theme that most people associate with the Nether. Instead, I wanted to showcase the depth of the Minecraft world by representing the Warped Forest’s beauty and mystery in a dessert.

What do you think now?

Spring Baking Championship A Minecraft Movie

Kardea, Duff, Nancy, And Jessie Spring Baking Championship Host and judges with Minecraft characters

Another wild episode—back-to-back two-hour challenges? Insane. Out of 11 seasons, we were the first to have two of them in a row, which is pretty huge. Was it hard? 100%.

Jesse Palmer had us making Minecraft-inspired square fruit entremets, each featuring an assigned fruit to create geometric, visually striking desserts. Then, we teamed up to bring A Minecraft Movie to life with landscape cakes—one baker representing the Overworld, the other the Netherworld—all connected by an edible portal that tied the worlds together in both design and taste.

Kareem Youngblood on set of Spring Baking Championship

Now, let’s talk about square cakes. They are brutal. Even with unlimited time, getting sharp edges takes layers of patience. Chill, ice, clean up, repeat—over and over—until it’s crisp. I always allot extra time when making square cakes, but on a competition clock? Whew.

That said, I’m not here to complain because I had a blast, and Team Pri-K was safe tonight!

Speaking of Priya Winsor—absolute rockstar. A mom, pastry chef, and chocolatier who lives for chocolate. Her business in St. Albert, Alberta, is all about handcrafted sweets—bonbons, bars, and confections. Working with her was a highlight—she's one of my favorite gals. Team Pri-K 5 Ever!

From a Brooklyn 2 Food Network:

From the heart of Brooklyn to the national stage, Kareem Youngblood’s journey to Spring Baking Championship is a testament to resilience, passion, and family legacy.

Born in 1985 during the crack and HIV epidemic, Kareem was raised by his grandfather in Crown Heights, Brooklyn. With his father absent and

his mother battling addiction—now over 30 years clean—Kareem found strength in his grandfather, the neighborhood’s unofficial patriarch, who made sure no one went hungry.

"Even though I wasn’t classically trained, my education came from life itself—I went to the University of Grandpa and YouTube," Kareem says. "He taught me everything I know about food—not the fancy stuff, but the real, soul-satisfying kind."

Now, that foundation has led him to Food Network’s Spring Baking Championship Season 11, where he’s set to showcase his talent, heart, and hustle.

A Story of Loss, Strength & Full-Circle Moments

Kareem’s journey isn’t just about food—it’s about loss, growth, and stepping into his purpose. His grandfather passed away on May 22, 2022, after a battle with kidney failure. The hardest decision of Kareem’s life was choosing not to put him on dialysis, knowing it would make his final days harder. Instead, he made a promise: one more sunny day—the same words from one of his grandfather’s favorite gospel songs.

After bringing him home for one last Thanksgiving together, Kareem stayed by his side until the end, personally washing and dressing him after he passed and carrying him to the funeral home van. Every last penny of his grandfather’s life insurance went toward what he calls his “grieve-cation”—a healing journey to Big Bend Summit and Cancún.

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"My grandpa didn’t die for me to pay bills," Kareem jokes. But in truth, the trip helped him heal—Big Bend gave him clarity, Cancún reminded him to live again. Then, exactly two years later to the date, Kareem found himself competing on Spring Baking Championship. "It wasn’t just a baking competition—it was a full-circle moment," Kareem shares. "Everything I had been through led me to that kitchen."

Don’t miss Kareem as he bakes his heart out and brings his Brooklyn roots to the national stage! Mondays 8pm on Food Network

Host Jesse Palmer, Judges Duff Goldman, Nancy Fuller and Kardea Brown as seen on Food Network Spring Baking Championship