Meet the armora team
esther boyd
therapy meets baking
I never planned on swapping therapy for baking—it just kind of happened. After closing my private practice in 2021 to spend more time with my boys, I wasn’t sure what was next. I wanted to leave space for the right thing to find me instead of forcing something that didn’t quite fit. Then baking quietly nudged its way in. Friends kept tasting treats I’d made and joked I should start a bakery. The idea lingered until it felt less like a hobby and more like a calling. Baking became a different way to connect and care—two things I’ve always valued.
A Moment of Realization
There was a time during my divorce when baking slipped away without me even noticing. I was surviving, not creating. Months later, I found myself back in the kitchen instinctively.
A friend pointed it out: “You must be returning to yourself—you’re baking again.” That’s when I realized baking was more than just something I did—it was grounding, comforting, and a way to reconnect with myself and others.
How Therapy Shapes My Baking
Being a therapist taught me the importance of presence—really showing up, holding space, and deeply listening. That mindset followed me straight into the kitchen. I’m not just baking to fill an order; every treat is intentionally crafted to offer comfort, warmth, and a gentle reminder that you matter. It’s slower, more thoughtful baking, because every small detail matters when you’re caring for someone.
Baked with room to feel.
The Heart of Soft: Baking Philosophy
I bake with intention and precision. Texture, flavor, feeling—it all matters. I believe something as simple as a cookie or bread can be both technically excellent and genuinely meaningful. One thing most people might not know? I build a lot of waiting into my baking. Letting dough rest longer, allowing sourdough to rise slowly—it adds depth and dimension. I think food, like people, develops depth when given space and time.
Why Conversations Matter
Good food and meaningful conversation naturally go together because both ask us to slow down, be present, and be real. Ever notice how every gathering eventually finds everyone in the kitchen? There’s warmth, comfort, and genuine connection there. I hope my treats become more than just a snack—I want them to be an invitation to linger, share stories, or even just reflect quietly by yourself. Because let’s face it: if a cookie called “Attachment Issues” doesn’t start a conversation, what will?
