The most beautiful sentence I can hear from a client is not "it turned out gorgeous".

It is...
"Marcsi, I'll leave it to you."

Because for me, that is where creating begins.
Not with a photo.
Not with a Pinterest picture.
But with a conversation.
With questions.
Lots of questions.

Who is being celebrated?
What kind of person are they?
What do they love?
What will make them happiest?
Because I don't want to make just a cake.
I want to make their cake.

As a child I didn't know yet that this would one day become my profession. I only knew that I loved creating. I baked a lot with my Grandma, and although I didn't realise it then, today I know that she gave me not only recipes, but the joy of creating as well.

Years ago I worked in a completely different field. But baking always stayed with me. My family and friends were – and still are – my first tasters.

After my pastry training I had the opportunity to learn from master pâtissier Joci Juhos. He was strict and honest, and that was exactly what I needed. From him I learned not only technique but a mindset: high standards are not a choice, they are the baseline. I am still grateful that I could learn from someone like him at the start of my journey.

I still remember my very first wedding cake. When it was finished, I just stood there looking at it and thought:

"Oh my God... did I really make this?"

I still have moments like that, and I hope I always will.

Because if this feeling ever became ordinary, perhaps it would lose the magic that makes me love this profession so much.

I am happiest when I can paint, when the flowers are taking shape and the decoration slowly comes together.

Well... that's where the magic happens.

The world of painted cakes captivated me at first sight. I was especially inspired by the work of Khadi Fatiha. The way she brought her cakes to life felt more like art than pastry to me.

So I reached out to her so that I could learn from her.

When I finished my first painted bird, I just sat in front of it and smiled.

"Oh my God... did I really make this?"

It was exactly the same feeling as when my first bridal cake was finished.

A few months later I was already painting a portrait – a geisha. I had never painted a portrait before, but Fati believed in me the whole way. At the end she only said:

"After this, you can paint anything."

She was right.

Since then, hand painting has become one of the most defining parts of my cakes. Because I believe that what can be created by hand, with a brush, cannot be replaced by any printed decoration.

There is, however, one part of this work nobody sees: the nerves.

Before every handover I worry that the cake will arrive safe and sound. My husband always smiles at me at times like this.

And I take one more look at the cake, then another, and another. All right, maybe too many.

My biggest dream had always been a workshop of my own. A place where every brush, every mould and every tiny detail has its place. Where I can create, design and paint in peace.
Last year this dream came true, and with my husband's help my own workshop was built.
Sometimes I still stop for a moment, look around and think:

"This really is mine." or "Dreams sometimes do come true."

At moments like this I always remember where it all began.

My Grandma, with whom I fell in love with baking.
My Mum, who could be just as happy about every one of my cakes as I was.

My Dad, from whom I inherited my love of drawing.
I think without them I wouldn't be who I am today.

That is why every finished cake carries a little piece of them, too.