When I started CakeLabNZ, I worked from home. At the beginning it felt manageable, until one day it suddenly wasn’t anymore. There were too many cake boxes, too many ingredients, too many late nights, and absolutely no separation between work and life.
Around that time, this little building on Daniell Street appeared.
I still remember going to look at it with my friend Ant North and starting to imagine how we could share the space. We planned the layout together, and I remember him saying my side should be by the front window because he wanted to “hide behind” while people admired me making pretty cakes.
Which, annoyingly, turned out to be true :)
People really do stop outside the window to watch me decorate cakes. Some wave (hi kids! :) ). Some stare very seriously. Some try to figure out what flavour something is through the glass. Even after five years it still makes me feel slightly awkward and a bit blushed when I notice someone watching while I’m trying to perfectly smooth buttercream pretending I don’t see anyone.
At the start, people constantly walked in asking if I sold cakes or desserts from the counter. Eventually I decided to give it a go. And technically, it worked. But I quickly realised I’m probably not built for running a proper front counter shop. Cake decorating needs long uninterrupted stretches of focus, timing, temperatures, and concentration. I’d be in the middle of stacking cakes, tempering chocolate, or trying to save something fragile, then suddenly switching into “hello, what can I get you?” mode five times an hour.
I realised pretty quickly that it didn’t feel right for me or for the way I work.
So over time, CakeLabNZ became more focused on custom orders, wedding cakes, dessert boxes, and seasonal collections again instead of daily cabinet desserts. Honestly, it suits both me and the kitchen much better. But I won’t lie, I do miss seeing people more regularly, which is probably why I always look forward to the Greytown Christmas Festival so much.
Looking back now, it’s strange how normal Daniell Street feels to me. The kitchen that once felt huge now somehow feels small. Every shelf, bench, and corner has become familiar.
Five years later, I still spend most days here covered in cocoa powder (if you know you know), listening to the same playlists, decorating cakes, and occasionally catching people outside watching through the window.
I love being part of people’s weddings, birthdays, and celebrations across Wellington, the Wairarapa, and beyond. I love hearing the little “wow” reactions when someone comes to collect their cake. I love seeing cakes travel far beyond this tiny kitchen too — packed carefully into cars heading to Taranaki, or driving out to places like Tora and Riversdale Beach for weddings and weekends away.
Over time, CakeLabNZ has pushed me to keep learning, try new ideas, and grow in ways I didn’t expect. It’s also led to collaborations and skills I would never have picked up otherwise, all connected through cakes and the people who support them.
And I think that’s what I love most about it — it keeps moving, keeps growing, and keeps bringing new moments, new faces, and new reasons to be proud of what’s made in this little kitchen on Daniell Street.
Around that time, this little building on Daniell Street appeared.
I still remember going to look at it with my friend Ant North and starting to imagine how we could share the space. We planned the layout together, and I remember him saying my side should be by the front window because he wanted to “hide behind” while people admired me making pretty cakes.
Which, annoyingly, turned out to be true :)
People really do stop outside the window to watch me decorate cakes. Some wave (hi kids! :) ). Some stare very seriously. Some try to figure out what flavour something is through the glass. Even after five years it still makes me feel slightly awkward and a bit blushed when I notice someone watching while I’m trying to perfectly smooth buttercream pretending I don’t see anyone.
At the start, people constantly walked in asking if I sold cakes or desserts from the counter. Eventually I decided to give it a go. And technically, it worked. But I quickly realised I’m probably not built for running a proper front counter shop. Cake decorating needs long uninterrupted stretches of focus, timing, temperatures, and concentration. I’d be in the middle of stacking cakes, tempering chocolate, or trying to save something fragile, then suddenly switching into “hello, what can I get you?” mode five times an hour.
I realised pretty quickly that it didn’t feel right for me or for the way I work.
So over time, CakeLabNZ became more focused on custom orders, wedding cakes, dessert boxes, and seasonal collections again instead of daily cabinet desserts. Honestly, it suits both me and the kitchen much better. But I won’t lie, I do miss seeing people more regularly, which is probably why I always look forward to the Greytown Christmas Festival so much.
Looking back now, it’s strange how normal Daniell Street feels to me. The kitchen that once felt huge now somehow feels small. Every shelf, bench, and corner has become familiar.
Five years later, I still spend most days here covered in cocoa powder (if you know you know), listening to the same playlists, decorating cakes, and occasionally catching people outside watching through the window.
I love being part of people’s weddings, birthdays, and celebrations across Wellington, the Wairarapa, and beyond. I love hearing the little “wow” reactions when someone comes to collect their cake. I love seeing cakes travel far beyond this tiny kitchen too — packed carefully into cars heading to Taranaki, or driving out to places like Tora and Riversdale Beach for weddings and weekends away.
Over time, CakeLabNZ has pushed me to keep learning, try new ideas, and grow in ways I didn’t expect. It’s also led to collaborations and skills I would never have picked up otherwise, all connected through cakes and the people who support them.
And I think that’s what I love most about it — it keeps moving, keeps growing, and keeps bringing new moments, new faces, and new reasons to be proud of what’s made in this little kitchen on Daniell Street.