I miss my mom every single day. But I especially miss her kitchen, the heart of our home and the joyful baking adventures that seemed to spill out of it year-round.

You see, Joan Forgette Sommers was kind of the original Martha Stewart, (trust me, Martha, you’d be flattered.) She juggled a career,  was an incredible wife and mother, volunteered all over and still had a streak of creativity a mile wide. Some of my earliest memories are of her baking hundreds of Christmas cookies after a long day as an escrow officer at Crocker Bank, high heels still on, lashes and lipstick still in place. Back in the days when women were expected to wear dresses, pantyhose, and poise, all at once.  She did this all to give something she had made away, gifts from her kitchen.  

She started her holiday baking tradition back in college (of course she was a home economics and nutrition major), and she never stopped. Every December, the kitchen turned into a symphony of butter, sugar, and holiday spirit. My grandmother added her famous Potica (nut roll here in WPA) and before long, the women in my family had created a tradition that defined the holidays and still does.    

It’s hard to explain what that world felt like, a time before processed foods took over, before “homemade” became a luxury instead of the norm. My mother made dinner from scratch every night. We sat down together at a set table. Every holiday dish, every cookie, every bite came from her hands. I didn’t know then how rare that was, I just knew it tasted like love and magic.  During our motor home years, she even cooked in there.  Baking scones and making pancakes from scratch.  She just couldn’t help herself.  If your last name was Grofer or Connors, and you “camped” with us, you know what I’m talking about.  

Those food memories have been tugging at me for years. They’re what led me to start Hey Sugar Cookie Co. during the pandemic, right after my mom passed away at 90. It began as a simple tribute, baking her sugar cookies using a recipe of hers that I’ve updated for larger production, but it became something so much more. I realized how many people had never tasted a truly homemade sugar cookie, one that melts in your mouth, made from flour, butter, sugar, eggs, vanilla, and salt. That’s it. No artificial flavors. No preservatives. Just the real deal.

My mom’s cookies were works of art. Each one was hand-cut, piped, and decorated with care. When she gifted them, you found just a few of those beautiful cookies nestled among her jam thumbprints, Russian tea cakes, Spritz, magic bars, and candy cane brownies, a treasure box of pure holiday joy.

That’s what Hey Sugar Micro Bakery is about, bringing back that feeling.
The smell of something rising in the oven. The taste of butter and sugar balanced just right. The nostalgia of flavors that connect us to the people and places we’ve loved.

When I moved to Western Pennsylvania, I expected bakeries on every corner, but discovered that most had narrowed their offerings out of necessity, rising costs, shelf stability, convenience. The result? Fewer real ingredients, more preservatives, and far less soul. So I decided to bake small, bake local, and bake honestly.

“Micro” is intentional, it means small-batch, made with care, using only real ingredients: cane sugar, butter, flour, eggs, salt, and vanilla. Bread with five ingredients. Cookies with six. Flavor that feels like home.

I’ve fallen in love with dough again, especially the enriched dough recipe my friend April brought to the venture, again something from her family. We use it for cinnamon rolls and pepperoni rolls (a Western PA classic I think the world should know about). And we’re just getting started.  Babkas are now on the menu, and they are just about the best thing ever.  

Hey Sugar isn’t just about baking. It’s about memories, the ones you have and the ones you’re making. It’s about community. It’s about the smell of your mom’s kitchen, even if she’s been gone for years.

There may be fancy pies at the grocery store or Costco, but trust me, they’ll never taste like my mom’s pumpkin custard pie, or those sugar cookies that looked too pretty to eat. This is about keeping that spirit alive, one roll, one cookie, one story at a time.

So come taste what I remember from the 1960s and ’70s,  before everything came in a box. My mom would have loved this. I think you will too.

Hey Sugar Micro Bakery. Small-batch, big heart. Just like Mom.