The Inevitable Disillusionment of Food Work
Even baking weed brownies can become a grind.
The first time I spoke on a panel as CEO of The Baking Supply Co., I wore overalls and high top sneakers — intentionally subverting the now-derided girl boss trope (or maybe playing right into it?) for added chill factor. It was 2017 and I was in DC to talk about how my brother and I had started a “healthy” edibles company that was legitimizing the cannabis industry through good branding, coconut sugar, and purpose.
On stage, I explained how we’d essentially Goop-ified weed and shared my story: making wholesome edibles to ease my chronic pain caused by endometriosis and PCOS. People who’d been using cannabis medicinally typically had inflammatory conditions like mine — and we were here to give you weed in a dye-free, sugar-free, gluten-free package. This was peak wellness culture.
After the panel, I remember feeling suffocated by impostor syndrome. I’d spent the night selling a curated narrative in which I was a successful and effortless founder driven by something bigger than me. But none of that felt true.
What I didn’t share was that I lived with three roommates, got constant low-balance bank alerts, and schlepped to a Queens warehouse weekly to pack boxes. I spent more time in spreadsheets than on the part I loved most: recipe development. I was so burned out I napped on office couches. Any cash I earned came from freelance gigs with big brands — not my very cool cannabis company. And most importantly, we’d positioned weed as natural plant medicine, but I was starting to wonder: was it actually bad for you? (Recent findings are concerning.)
