06/10/2026
PART 4 — From a $75 Pop-Up to “Where Will You Be Next?” 🌺
Our first Hawaii pop-up made only $75. 😂
And that was a HUGE reality check.
In Alaska, we were used to selling hundreds sometimes 600 to even thousands of ensaymadas through preorders, repeat customers, and bulk orders.
Then suddenly, in Hawaii…
$75 lang😭
From being used to sold-out production days to standing behind our tent watching people simply walk past us.
That was humbling. 😂
In Alaska, almost everything was preorder. Most weeks, I was already maxed out. Even with a commercial mixer and proofer, there was only so much I could physically make.
So when we moved to Hawaii and started doing pop-ups, everything felt completely different.
This time, people weren’t ordering ahead.
They were walking past our tent.
Looking.
Stopping.
Reading the flavors.
Then asking:
“What is this?”
A lot of locals had never heard of ensaymada before.
Filipinos knew what ensaymada was — but when they saw the price, that was another story. 😂
One Filipina looked at our display and said something like:
“Wow… $4 for an ensaymada? Fancy ensaymada!”
Honestly, I expected that reaction.
Traditional ensaymada from some local bakeries could be around $1–$1.50 at the time.
Mine was around $4 for that first pop-up because I wanted to test the market, even though some event organizers had already told me:
“Why are you selling this for only $4? A premium pastry like this could sell for $5–$6.”
They reminded me to consider my ingredients, labor, packaging, and event fees.
And they were right.
Because I wasn’t trying to make the same ensaymada people were used to buying at a regular local bakery.
Ours was a soft, buttery brioche-style ensaymada with different fillings and flavors.
One of our regular customers once described it as almost like eating cake because of how soft and rich it was.
And I didn’t want to lower the quality just to compete on price.
I used quality butter and ingredients. I made sure our packaging was food-grade. Our products went through laboratory testing. I carried food liability insurance. I studied food safety, took certification exams, and became a member of the Retail Bakers of America.
“Hindi lang ako basta nag-bake tapos nagbenta ng ensaymada.”
I put so much time, effort, money, and studying into creating something I could genuinely be proud of.
“Ayoko mapahiya sa customers ko.”
If someone was going to pay a premium price, I wanted them to feel that what they received was worth every dollar.
Because for me, it was never just a product.
It was my name and my brand attached to that box.
So even though our first pop-up only made $75, I wasn’t ready to give up.
Two weeks later, we had our second pop-up.
I grabbed my Instagram account and posted where we would be next.
By then, I noticed our followers slowly increasing.
Then one day I received a message:
“Luckily I found you! Can I place an order for your next pop-up? My family loved your ensaymada.”
I was SO excited. 😂
Someone from our first event actually went looking for us again.
That one message gave me so much hope.
Then at our second pop-up, something even better happened.
People who tried us at the first event started showing up again.
Remember the person who wanted to try the “fancy ensaymada”?
She came back.
But this time, she didn’t buy just one.
She ordered two boxes — one for her family and another for her coworkers.
I looked at my husband like…
“Okay… maybe this is working.” 😂
Then another Filipina stopped at our booth.
She looked at the price and asked:
“Masarap ba ’to? Ang mahal naman.”
I didn’t try to convince her.
I’ve never been the type to push people into buying.
My mindset was still the same as when I started in Alaska:
Let the product speak for itself.
She decided to buy one.
She walked around the event.
Then later…
She came back.
This time, she wanted boxes.
She told me:
“Your ensaymada is really good. I want my family to try this.”
She even congratulated me and said it was worth the price because it wasn’t like the regular ensaymada she was used to eating.
And I remember thinking:
The person I thought probably wouldn’t buy because of the price ended up coming back for more.
Don’t judge the book by its cover… or the ensaymada by its price. 😂
That second pop-up became our first really successful one.
Then something else started happening.
Event organizers began reaching out to us.
Different events.
Different locations.
More invitations.
I told my husband:
“Can we do more pop-ups? Maybe one or two every month?”
So I started increasing production.
I also came up with bundle boxes where customers could choose different flavors for a discounted price.
After every event, I would post on Instagram.
Then messages started coming in:
“Where’s your next pop-up?”
And honestly, hearing that felt amazing.
Because what people saw online was the fun part.
Pretty boxes.
Colorful ensaymadas.
A nice booth.
Happy customers.
But behind the scenes?
Grabe. 😂
Making our ensaymada could take me around 12–16 hours.
At that time, it was basically just me and my husband.
I was baking.
Proofing.
Filling.
Decorating.
Packing.
Cleaning.
Then on event day, we had to arrive early to set up the tent, prepare the display, make sure all the paperwork was ready, and follow strict sanitation requirements.
After four hours or more at the event, we packed everything again, loaded the car, drove home…
and sometimes started preparing for the next one.
And here’s the funny part.
People who knew me growing up probably never imagined I would be doing any of this. 😂
I grew up very pampered.
Hindi ako marunong maglaba.
Even washing dishes wasn’t something I regularly had to worry about growing up because we had help at home.
Then suddenly, here I was in Hawaii…
Washing huge commercial mixer bowls.
Scrubbing giant pans and trays.
Lifting heavy ingredients.
Standing for hours.
Cleaning everything myself.
Literal na pawis, pagod, at minsan gusto mo na lang umiyak. 😂
I used to love having long, polished nails.
Then one day I looked at my hands and thought:
“Wait… ano nangyari sa nails ko?” 😭😂
They became short and brittle from constantly working and washing equipment.
I used to have very long, straight hair that I loved fixing.
Now?
Hairnet. Gloves. Apron. Repeat. 😂
My new “look” was basically whatever could survive 12–16 hours of production.
Even my skin wasn’t as flawless as before.
There were days I would look in the mirror and think:
“Girl… what happened to you?” 😭😂
But then I would look at all the boxes lined up.
The orders ready to go.
The messages from customers.
The growing Instagram account.
The invitations from organizers.
And sometimes I would become teary-eyed.
Pagod na pagod ako…😭😭😭
but I was also happy.
Because something that once only existed in my imagination was slowly becoming real.
Living abroad humbled me in so many ways.
Life in the U.S. was very different from the life I grew up with in the Philippines.
You learn to do things yourself.
And this business took that lesson to another level.
People saw the finished product.
They didn’t see me late at night washing a huge mixer after baking all day.
They saw the pretty packaging.
They didn’t see the exhaustion behind it.
My federal office job wasn’t effortless, of course.
But physically?
This was a completely different life.
There were days I would honestly ask myself:
“Ano bang ginagawa ko? I left my stable federal job for this?” 😂
And with how busy everything became, something else happened…
I started forgetting about myself.
I barely checked my personal Facebook anymore.
Sometimes I didn’t even know what was happening with friends because I had completely disappeared.
It wasn’t because I didn’t want to talk to people.
Wala lang talaga akong time.
Almost every hour I had was divided between my family and the business.
I stopped exercising regularly.
There were even times I delayed my own doctor appointments because I kept telling myself:
“I’ll do it when things slow down.”
Looking back, that part wasn’t good.
I was so focused on taking care of the business that sometimes I forgot to take care of myself.
And that’s one thing I learned the hard way:
Your dream may require sacrifices, but you shouldn’t completely lose yourself while building it.
Still, during those exhausting nights, I kept telling myself:
“One day, all of this will be worth it.”
Then someone who knew me personally said something I still remember:
“I never thought you would be this serious about baking. Ang sarap-sarap ng buhay mo noon. You had a good job, and now ikaw mismo nagbe-bake, naglilinis, naghuhugas ng lahat. Why did you quit your job just to sell ensaymada?”
And you know what?
For a moment…
I asked myself the same question.
Because from the outside, maybe it really did look like I left a comfortable federal career just to “sell ensaymada.”
But what people didn’t see was everything I was learning, building, sacrificing, and becoming along the way.
It was never just about selling bread.
The business gave me something to focus on after one of the hardest seasons of my life.
It challenged me.
It humbled me.
It taught me discipline.
It taught me how much I could actually do with my own two hands.
And somewhere between the hairnets, brittle nails, huge mixer bowls, sleepless nights, a $75 first pop-up, repeat customers, hundreds of ensaymadas, and eventually sold-out events…
I met a version of myself I never knew existed.
And the story was only getting started. 🤍
To be continued…
