I'm Cindie.
Nice to meet you.
My oldest daughter was diagnosed with celiac in 2019. For two years I watched her eat sad, crumbly, expensive substitutes — and I watched her stop wanting dessert at birthday parties. That was the year I started baking.
I am not a chef. I'm a mother who got stubborn. I read every book. I ruined a lot of flour. Eventually I figured out that gluten-free baking isn't about hiding that something is missing — it's about building something that stands on its own. Almond flour has its own ideas. So does rice flour. So does sorghum. Once you stop apologizing for them, the baking gets good.
I bake from my home kitchen in Cypress under the Texas Cottage Food Law. Three things a week, in small batches. No wheat flour crosses the threshold — not in a drawer, not in a cabinet, not on a single countertop. Everything I sell, I'd serve to my own kid. I have. I do.
If you have celiac, or a gluten-sensitive kid, or you just don't feel right after most baked goods — I see you. This is a kitchen that was built for you.
Caring.
I'll text you back about ingredients. I remember what my regulars like. If your kid has an allergy, tell me — I'll tell you the truth about what's safe.
Compassionate.
I know how isolating food restrictions are. You shouldn't have to settle, apologize, or explain yourself to eat a good cookie.
Strong.
These bakes stand on their own. Not "good for gluten free." Just good. Bring the whole family, hand them a slice, don't say a word.
How I work.
Know what's baking
before anyone else.
Every Sunday night, one short email — what's on this week's menu, what's new, sometimes a photo of the dough rising.
No spam. Unsubscribe anytime. Pinky promise.