A kitchen diary,
not a business plan.
Sugar was gone overnight.
At 34, my autoimmune panel came back and my doctor handed me a list of everything I couldn't eat anymore. Gluten. Sugar. Most grains. I stood in the grocery aisle for forty minutes reading labels and left with nothing. The "healthy" alternatives tasted like cardboard wrapped in desperation. I knew there had to be a better way.
"The healthy alternatives tasted like cardboard wrapped in desperation."
Macadamia flour and midnight math.
I started experimenting after the kids went to bed. Macadamia flour. Raw cacao. Coconut cream. Cold-pressed MCT oil. I filled notebooks with ratios, burned batches, and learned that fat behaves differently when you respect it — slow heat, cold press, time. By spring I had three recipes worth eating. By summer I had eight.
A folding table and a cooler of nut butter.
The Portland Saturday Market gave me a six-foot table and a three-hour window. I brought 40 jars of almond butter and a batch of chocolate fat bombs. Sold out by 9:45 AM. The woman who bought the last jar asked if I shipped. I didn't. I went home and figured out how to.
"Sold out by 9:45 AM. I went home and figured out how to ship."

A nutritionist ordered a case.
Dr. Sarah Okonkwo, an integrative nutritionist in Seattle, found us through a client's Instagram story. She emailed asking for a case of everything — for her practice. When I asked why, she said: 'Because my autoimmune patients are exhausted reading labels that lie, and yours don't.' That email is still pinned above my workbench.



