Some of my sweetest memories begin with my great-grandma and a caramel cake.

Every Christmas, she would order the same homemade caramel cake from her sister. It wasn't a cake from a bakery. It was a family tradition. I remember watching her unwrap it. She would share but I always wanted an extra slice. She never wanted to share too much with me, so I'd sneak another piece when she wasn't looking.

Years later, after she was gone, I found myself craving that same caramel cake. But what I really missed wasn't just the cake. It was the feeling that came with it. The laughter around the table. The holidays. The memories of my great-grandma.

So I decided to make one myself.

That one craving became the very first cake I ever baked, and before I knew it, it became the beginning of Cake Holic.