What Would Ina Do?

On opening a bakery, finding my voice, and trusting my instincts

I found myself in a situation last week onsite at the bakery with my contractor and a kitchen equipment sales rep. Both men, with at least a decade or two on me, telling me what I should do.

My contractor is lovely, a caring and soft spoken person, who is someone I’ve become to trust. The kitchen equipment rep, well, not so much. He arrived on the phone, yapping away and only hung up when I gave him a look. The first thing out of his mouth was, “So let me tell you what you should do here”.

And before I could overthink it, I interrupted him, “Well actually wouldn’t you like to know what I’ll be doing here?”

He was surprised and honestly, so was I. My voice was clear and assertive, but underneath exhausted from a dynamic I know all too well. He shuffled around, uncomfortable and nodded along as I walked him through the space. After interrupting many times with what I had done wrong, he turned to my contractor and said “Women, they only care about design.”

As I’ve been learning the past few months, and to no one’s surprise, opening a brick-and-mortar bakery in New York City is hard. The only thing that makes it easier is the people and team that surrounds you. The ones who problem solve and support, are cheerleaders and wholeheartedly see and are excited about the vision. There is absolutely no room for anyone who doubts you or even worse, questions your competence.

I just finished listening to Ina Garten’s memoir, Be Ready When Luck Happens. Her voice in my ears, as a guiding light during this process. I’ve found myself holding onto her words and returning to them in moments when I need grounding. Standing there with the sales rep, I said to myself, what would Ina do?

So I paused. I really eloquently told him why all the details in the bakery matter — not just how they look or function, but how they feel. What I want someone walking through the door to experience and what it feels like to spend a day working there. And in that moment, he saw it. To my surprise, he changed his tuned and started suggesting things that were actually useful. I didn’t need that from him, and I didn’t care whether he saw it or not, but it became something else entirely—an exercise in patience, and in standing firmly in my own voice. There have been and will be more people like him. And while it might not always go that particular way, it was sure gratifying in that moment. My contractor and I shared a laugh when he left and I realized, maybe for the first time, that I had found my voice in a way that felt entirely my own.

As a woman opening a bakery, who didn’t go to culinary or business school, I’ve been met with plenty of subtle judgements and assumptions. I don’t identify —at all— with the traditional descriptors used for entrepreneurs or chefs. I’m self-taught, a dreamer and a sensitive soul. But I’m also resilient, passionate, hardworking, and have a very clear vision.

There have been moments over the last few months where I feel like I need to defend these traits rather than champion them. Or even worse, made to believe that they aren’t enough. I’ve always believed that sensitivity is a superpower, rather than a weakness — and not knowing everything is a good thing. It leaves room for discovery, for growth, for something unexpected to take shape. I’m not trying to replicate something that already exists, but trying to build something that feels honest, something that feels like me.

Months ago when I signed the lease for the bakery, my friend recommended I read Ina’s memoir. She told me it would resonate a lot with the experience I was about to embark on and I put it on my list. As these moments started to arise more, I popped my headphones in one morning and let Ina’s story unfold alongside my own.

And everything I already knew and believed in was settled back into place. The questions that were starting to poke holes in my resillience, disappeared. Her path was far from conventional and she taught herself every step of the way. More than anything, she trusted her gut and stayed true to herself.

I felt such a sigh of relief, because that’s how I operate. I also felt excited, proud and so sure that this is exactly I want — following in the footsteps of the people who inspire me most. Right now, my hope and dream for the bakery is simple: that it becomes I place I truly want to be, all day long. A place I’m proud of and inspired by. And my gut tells me the rest will follow.

For anyone who is pursuing a dream or carving out their own path, Ina’s memoir is like a warm hug. I couldn’t recommend it more. And if you have a favorite inspirational book or bit of your journey you’d like to share, I’m all ears.