Cake Story: The One With the Rainbow That Made Me Brave

Cake Story: The One With the Rainbow That Made Me Brave.

I’ve made a lot of cakes since this one—some bigger, some more detailed, and many with far more confidence. But this little rainbow cake still stands out. It was one of the first that truly mattered to me, not just because of how it turned out, but because of what it represented.

It was 2020, just after things had started opening up again. A friend of mine was planning her daughter’s first birthday—a small, sweet celebration at home with family, and a Zoom party for everyone else. The theme was rainbows, and she asked if I’d make the cake.

I said yes, of course! Then promptly panicked.

The Cake

At the time, it was one of the first milestone cakes I’d been asked to make for someone outside my immediate circle. I had made plenty of cakes before, but this felt different. Someone I admired and trusted (and who also happens to be a very good photographer) was giving me the honor of being part of her daughter’s first birthday. I wanted it to be beautiful and to feel special.

The cake itself had bright rainbow layers on the inside, was wrapped in white buttercream, and finished with a pale coral pink white chocolate drip. It was soft and sweet and cheerful. And—once I stopped second-guessing myself—I really loved how it came together.

The Topper

Now. The topper.

This was a handmade fondant rainbow, and at the time, it was the most detailed topper I’d ever attempted. I watched what felt like a hundred tutorials and shaped the arcs one by one, holding my breath while they dried and praying they’d stand up when the time came. (Spoiler: they did.)

And while I’m proud of how it turned out, this was also the cake that taught me I don’t love working with fondant. It’s unpredictable. It takes forever to dry. And if your timing’s off or the humidity kicks in, it can all go sideways fast.

I realized that although I can make fondant toppers, I don’t have to—especially when there are so many beautiful, pre-made options I can order from artists who genuinely love that part of the process. That was a turning point: learning to focus on the parts I enjoy and release the rest with gratitude.

The Celebration

The party itself was small and sweet. Their family gathered at home while friends and grandparents tuned in over Zoom—a very 2020 kind of celebration. I wasn’t there in person, but I got to see the day through photos afterward, which meant the world to me.

One picture in particular still makes me smile: the birthday girl’s older brother holding an entire slice of rainbow cake in his hand like a sandwich, happily taking a bite without a fork in sight. No hesitation. No plate required. Just pure joy, one colorful layer at a time.

It was a reminder—then and now—that cakes don’t have to be perfect to be memorable. They just have to show up in the moment. And if they happen to taste good along the way? Even better.

Why I’ll Always Remember This One

I’ve learned a lot since then—new techniques, better timing, a little more confidence. A cake like this wouldn’t shake me now.

But back then, it felt big. Someone trusted me with a meaningful moment in their family’s life—and I got to show up for it in the best way I knew how.

That rainbow cake stretched more than just my skills—it stretched my confidence, too. Not in a big, dramatic way. Just enough to make me stand up a little straighter and say, maybe I can do this after all. And that’s something I’ll never forget.

📸 Photos by Ashli Klich | A Perfect Click Photography used with permission.