I spent my childhood in South Wales, and the early mornings were always filled with the comforting aroma of the kitchen. In that cozy space, my mother, Eileen, and grandmother, Irene, could often be found kneading dough for bread and warming the griddle for our beloved Welsh Cakes. To this day, the scent of allspice and cinnamon instantly transports me back to that kitchen.
My mother used to take me to a quaint café that served tea, Welsh Cakes, and various sweet breads. They would fill each teapot with boiling water straight from their enormous "copper" kettle. As a child, I would declare to my mum, "One day, I'm going to open a bakery and name it Copper Kettle Bakery."
Sadly, my mother passed away in June of 2013, and I was unexpectedly laid off. My yearning for the taste of Welsh Cakes led me to start griddling them every morning. Requests for more poured in. It was at this point that I realized I had discovered my true calling.
