Hana | Founder of EmpireFoodie
At 35, Hana is a passionate home baker, wife, and mom to Theo. Raised in a farmhouse kitchen where flour-dusted hands told stories, she now shares generations of family recipes on EmpireFoodie.com where every cake crumb and cookie carries memories.
Her mission? To prove that:
✨ Great baking needs heart more than perfection
✨ The best desserts are shared, not just served
✨ Even kitchen disasters make the sweetest stories
When not testing recipes, you’ll find her scribbling notes in her grandmother’s tattered recipe book or laughing over burnt cookies with her son.
“Come bake with love—and extra butter.”
Chapter One: The Farmhouse Kitchen
The first years of my life unfolded in a white clapboard house located in rural America as winter winds noted the old oak tree outside the porch and the screen door made its distinctive squeaking sounds when the weather turned hot.
Hana, Mother and grandma
A single burner stove shared space with a sink together with a dining table made of wood showing deepened scars inherited from numerous gatherings around it. My earliest memory? My first memory of my mother’s hands showed me
how to knead dough as she mixed flour with yeast which emitted a special comforting aroma. I was four. When the oven revealed our creation our father declared with pride that it was “the best bread in seven counties.” That moment planted the seed.
The Education of a Country Cook
I never attended any culinary institution. My education came from:
-I observed my mother transform wild berries into sun-filled jam through her skillful hands.
-My grandmother used her open hand to strike me after I measured using my hands (“Your hands know, child!”)
-The summer turned out to be destructive for my pickle experiments because it took me twelve tries to master vinegar magic.
Money remained scarce for us while tradition made our life prosperous. A kitchen table served as the main celebration venue for holidays as well as birthdays and common Tuesdays. The lesson taught us in a direct manner that food serves as a communication tool which transcends verbal language.
The Interaction Between Love Loss and Loaves of Bread
When I married David at 22 years old I placed three items in my hope chest: my grandmother’s cast iron skillet combined with my mother’s rolling pin as well as a notebook filled with fading pencil-written recipes. Thirty-five years have passed since we acquired that skillet which has added flavor to our relationship in terms of both metaphoric and culinary dimensions.
Theodore arrived as our miracle child following numerous failed tries year after year. During his first experience with food he ate avocado which faced resistance from his small face as he tried to consume breastmilk combined with the new texture. His growth has surpassed mine yet he continues his Sunday tradition of texting about food preparation advice.
Why EmpireFoodie?
Our blog started as an initiative to save our family recipes when my mother lost her ability to cook after a stroke occurred. Through its evolution our project developed into a thriving digital discussion channel for people of similar interests throughout the entire world.
Here you’ll find:
The Soulful – Recipes that carried us through grief, illness, and joy
The Sacred – My great-grandmother’s molasses cake that survived the Great Depression
The Silly – The “Dumpster Pie” I invented when we lost power for three days
An Invitation
I’m not a chef. I am merely a woman who has faith that:
-A homemade crust needs to possess imperfections so people can see its touch of human craftsmanship
-Meals that shine the most are usually made from forgotten leftovers in the refrigerator with just the right touch of imagination
-Every accidental kitchen mishap ends up becoming a comedic tale for the following day
So come, pull up a chair. Flour will eventually get stuck in your hair along with sauce stains on your shirt. We will burn several dishes while we continuously improve others. Cooking serves as a pathway for human connection above every other consideration.
With a wooden spoon in one hand and my heart in the other,
Hana
P.S. The fundamental component that exists in every creation is consistently love. (And sometimes extra butter.)
