I'm Lindsey, your friendly neighbourhood Cinnamon Roll dealer (at least that's what I'm called around my community!) Baking has always been more than food in my life. It’s memory, muscle, and inheritance. I come from four generations of women who baked bread, not as a hobby, but as a way of caring for their people. Dough was mixed at kitchen tables, risen in warm corners, and baked alongside the ordinary work of living. What was passed down wasn’t just recipes, but rhythm: when to wait, when to trust, when to try again. Those women taught me that bread marks time. It shows up for holidays and hard days, for grief and celebration, for mornings that need softening. Baking was how love moved through our kitchens — quietly, without needing to be named. For me, baking is a ritual practice. The repetition is the point. The return to the same dough, the same movements, the same patience, it grounds me. Yeast teaches you to slow down. Dough asks you to pay attention. There is humility in letting something rise in its own time. Carrying this practice forward feels like responsibility and gift all at once. Every time I bake, I am holding the hands of the women who came before me and offering something steady to those who come after. The dough changes with the seasons, but the intention stays the same. This space exists so that tradition can keep moving. Not frozen in the past like many other traditions, but alive and shared with laughter and light. I'm so excited you're here with me! Now let's get baking.