The Frostery

Louise and Jason - Colshaw Hall.
There is a lot going on in this cake. Look closely and you will see pearls, scrolls, line work and lace, all hand piped, an abundance of sugar flowers, and the addition of small personal details woven in the design for the people who knew to find them. A small flying bird, a single red rose, a nod to travel, to food and a beloved football team.

But ivory has a way of holding it all together, what could feel busy becomes architectural and interesting. The details are there, they just don’t shout.

I find that’s often the way with royal icing used like this, lots and lots of it but always considered. It’s a discipline that takes years to understand properly. Not just the technique but the judgement. Knowing when to stop is as important as knowing where to start.

My favourite kind of cake to make, not the showiest. The most personal.

Hannah and Scott wanted the cake their grandparents would recognise. And love.
Three tiers of rich fruit cake, marzipan, then fine sugarpaste. The one that smells like Christmas morning when you cut into it.
And yet — look at it. That colour palette keeps it feeling light as air. Complex in craft, effortless in feel.

I’ve been thinking a lot about texture lately. How to incorporate interest in a cake design beautifully, so it looks bespoke without being shouty.
Royal icing doesn’t always need to be bold and structural. Sometimes it’s about the quieter details – the soft scalloped edges, the delicate tone-on-tone piping that catches the light just so.
The bride wore her grandmother’s wedding dress – made from the most beautiful lace. We wanted the cake design to echo that feeling without trying to compete with it. The broderie anglaise work here is subtle, almost like vintage lace that’s been handed down through generations. Which, in this case, it literally had been.
And those sugar flowers? They’ll be as perfect today as they were on the wedding day. That’s the thing about proper sugarcraft – it lasts.
I suppose after 30 years of doing this, I’ve learned that the most skilled work isn’t always the loudest. Sometimes it’s what makes you stop and look a little closer.

Hand-painted marbling inspired by the Turkish art of Ebru – where pigments float on water before being transferred to paper. I’ve always loved how the patterns form naturally, no two ever quite the same.
The gilded elephants were chosen by the couple for blessing, prosperity and good fortune. That single red rose speaks for itself.
Happy Valentine’s Day. x

It’s interesting how things come full circle.
A few years ago, I designed this chinoiserie piece as a display cake for the studio - combining a hand-painted floral panel with over-piping in royal icing and 24-carat gold leaf. It was purely a creative exercise, really. Exploring how those beautiful painted panels you see in stately homes might translate into cake form.
Then one day, a father-of-the-bride saw it and asked if we could create it for his daughter’s wedding. So we did but changed the colours to suit the theme of his daughter’s special day.
It’s a curious thing, creating something as artistic expression and then being asked to recreate it as someone’s wedding centerpiece. The sugar flowers alone - each petal built up in layers - take days. The painting and over-piping, another couple of days. But knowing it meant enough to commission makes every hour worth it.
This is what I love about this work. Not just making beautiful cakes, but creating designs that people connect with enough to want them at their most important moments.
This design is available to commission from me with your choice of colours - details via link in bio, or DM chinoiserie for information.
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It starts with how you picture your day.
This particular day… A midsummer wedding in a countryside church, gloriously sunny, with the sound of Black D**e brass band filling the air. Pure joy, really.
When we talked through what Becky and Danny wanted, it wasn’t about trends or what everyone else was doing. It was about capturing that feeling - the warmth, the celebration, the golden light of a perfect summer day.
So I used hand-painting to echo the colours they’d chosen, the mood they were creating. Gold leaf to catch the light. Each element placed deliberately. The kind of work that takes those quiet early morning hours when your hands are steady and you can really see what you’re doing.
This is the bit people don’t always realise - that these things take time. Not just the hours on the day, but the years spent learning how gold leaf sits, how to make hand-painting look effortless and how to translate a feeling into something you can actually eat and share with the people who matter most.

It all starts with how you picture your day.
When we talk, I’m listening for the feeling you’re after - how you imagine standing beside your cake with everyone gathered around you, that moment before you cut it together. What you want that to feel like.
For this wedding at Hawkstone Hall, I designed something that would sit naturally with the beautiful fresh flowers, the magnificent ballroom, the light that pours in through the tall Georgian windows. Delicate hand-piped lace and their monogram to match the wedding stationary, sugar flowers made to match the fresh blooms and then be kept as a special keepsake after the wedding day.
Your cake should feel like it was always meant to be part of your wedding. Not added to it.
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Blush and ivory. Hand-piped detailing, sugar flowers positioned to sit just right in the light.
I’ve been making wedding cakes for thirty years and I still approach each one the same way - as something that belongs to that couple, that day, that room. Not following a trend. Not working from a template. Just considered, careful work that photographs beautifully and matters even more in person.
This one was for Samantha and Ryan for their beautiful wedding day at Hawkstone Hall, captured by Catherine Bradley. The kind of collaboration that reminds me why I love what I do.
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