Our Story: How My Momma Became Cinnamomma
*This post was written by Madeline McBeth, daughter of Nicole McBeth
Welcome to the Cinnamomma blog! Family, friends, and newcomers alike, we are so excited to have you here. For those of you who are new, we specialize in the sweeter things. Family owned and operated, our enterprise is cinnamon rolls, breads, sweet breads, cookies, charcuterie, but above all else, the connection that comes through making delectable food and sharing it with others.
Photo taken at an event we catered
Here on the blog, we will be discussing many ‘hot’ topics, from tips and tricks to kitchen tools and family traditions. From stories and starters to recipes and memories. From the business of baking to the labor of life. Growing up, our table was always filled with people. So, at Cinnamomma, ALL are welcome to come and enjoy with us! All are welcome at our table. We invite you to take a rest, stay awhile, have a taste, and we hope to make your day just a little bit brighter.
For this first blog post, I thought I would share the ever-requested story of how Cinnamomma came to be. To many of you, Nicole McBeth is “Cinnamomma”—baker extraordinaire and probably the kindest person you’ve ever met. While both of these things are certainly true, to me (her daughter), the story of Cinnamomma is rooted much deeper.
I remember watching my mom in the kitchen when I was a little girl. She moved with speed, precision, and care, yet she looked comfortable, free, uninhibited and unconcerned with messing up the recipe. That is if she was using one. She knew just what to do, even when she didn’t (a rare culinary instinct that I still can’t replicate). Back then, the kitchen seemed like a high stakes game to me—temperamental oil sizzling in a pan, a scalding hot oven, utensils that looked like medical equipment, delicate eggshells, spices of every color waiting to make or break your dinner, and that tight-rope walk of adding extra flour to chocolate chip cookie dough. The yeast was alive for heaven’s sake! To my mom, however, that terrifying terrain was a walk in the park. A breeze. A playground. A happy place. It was not without trial and error, as she insists to this day, though it was and is a kind of sacred space; for connection, creativity, discovery, triumph, and bliss.
Roll, tuck, chop, stir, drizzle, spread, boil, pop, a symphony of crackle, and the low hum of the bread mixer. This became the soundtrack to our lives, and my mom the conductor. She made food and people gathered to eat it. Sort of like an “if you build it, they will come” situation. Sort of like magic. I couldn’t quite understand or appreciate it all at the time, but I stood on tippy-toes, watching and waiting for my chance to lend a hand or lick the spoon. Little did I know that this master of ceremonies, my mother, once stood at the counter’s edge on tippy-toes as well, which is precisely where Cinnamomma really began.
Under the tutelage of her mother (whom I call Granna) and her grandmothers, my mom quickly found a home in the kitchen. They not only taught her the chemistry of cooking but the joy in it. She learned why we mix the dry ingredients before the wet, how to brown a roast on all sides, the perfect elasticity of bread dough, how to separate, whip, and fold in egg whites. She watched their hands work, saw their food transform, and felt with potent clarity the memories being made because of it. She learned to not only love food but to love the process of cooking it.
She still remembers the taste of her grandma’s peanut butter cookies and the full garden of vegetables she had out back. She remembers canning jams and pickling cucumbers. Aunt Louise making homemade salsa with strands of peppers hanging from the ceiling. She remembers her mother teaching her how to roll out cinnamon rolls for the first time, using a recipe that had been passed down through generations. We like to think those past generations of women were in the kitchen with them that day.
No matter the dish or its ingredients, her mother and grandmother always wanted to make their food delicious. They were incredibly health-conscious, and experts in the experiment of “good and good for you.” Regardless of restrictions or substitutions, they were (and are) dedicated to the project of flavor—be it savory or sweet. My mom was in junior high school when they found out about her dad’s heart problems. Keeping his heart strong would require drastically limiting processed sugars and unhealthy fats. My Granna innovated in order to find ways to fuel her family with wholesome, nutrient-rich foods, without compromising on taste. My mom has taken up this task to accommodate people like my sister, who have Celiac disease, are gluten intolerant, dairy-free, egg-free, and/or vegan. Everyone deserves to love the food that they eat.
What my mom remembers most is the talking and laughing that happened in the kitchen; dancing from the sink to the stove, to the table, and back again. What they created brought people together and brought joy. Therein lies her passion. Those moments in those tiny kitchens in California and Idaho were the building blocks of her business today.
When my mom was a teenager, a few of Granna’s friends asked to sell her homemade bread in their Santa Monica salons and shops. Granna enlisted my mom’s help to bake loaves of wheat, white, cinnamon raisin, and blueberry bread. This sparked an entrepreneurial spirit in my mom that has burned ever since. She continued making and selling bread until leaving for Rick’s College at 17. At Rick’s, in Rexburg, Idaho is where she met a strapping, sarcastic, kind young football player named Travis. My dad.
My mom finished her education at Brigham Young University, where she graduated with a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology. Her studies were fulfilling, albeit challenging. She was fascinated by the human mind and human behavior. At one point, she considered a Master’s degree and a career as a counselor. This proclivity for helping people has informed all her life’s ventures, including Cinnamomma.
She always wanted to have her own business, so after marrying Travis and giving birth to twin girls, she came up with the idea of assembling and selling baskets of baked goods to local companies. “Baskets For All Seasons” is what she called it. With two babies in tow, she delivered these baskets all around Utah Valley for a mortgage company in the area. It was hard work running that operation while navigating new motherhood. That unflinching work ethic and unfailing ambition have thankfully stuck around for the long haul.
Two more children and a move to Arizona later, my mom was planning the twins’ ninth birthday celebration. They wanted to make bracelets at their party, so she bought wire and beads. She realized how much fun it was making those bracelets and kept it up. Soon, some simple wire and beads turned into crates full of crystals, drawers full of silver and gold chain, then countless jewelry orders and trade shows. A hobby became a passion, which became “Expressions.” The business grew and it grew fast, what with many Arizona boutiques carrying her work. She had a four-year contract with Gold Canyon Candles to design a bracelet for their Prayer Child Foundation. She made thousands of those bracelets and sold them to benefactors from around the world.
Cinnamomma’s Original Cinnamon Rolls
It’s interesting to note that Instagram did not exist at this time, so exposure came primarily by word of mouth. My mom decided to host a big open house to showcase her jewelry as well as various other vendors. I remember the energy and excitement of our packed house that night. A woman from California who was in attendance, later contacted my mom, wanting to mass-produce her pieces. Even so, our family was growing faster than “Expressions,” and my mom felt it needed to be put on hold. As it turns out, one of the most popular booths at that party was my Granna’s. Granna was there selling trays of original cinnamon rolls and loaves of pumpkin bread to guests. A friend found these goodies especially irresistible and asked if my mom could sell them at an event her company was putting on. Thus began the onslaught of corporate gift orders, which were originally the only requests Cinnamomma took. Thus began Cinnamomma Cinnamon Rolls.
Life rarely goes according to plan, and after revisiting the details of this saga, I for one am glad that it doesn’t. I’m sure my mom would agree. She told me once that she is grateful all of those other vocations led her to this one. When I asked why, she replied, “Because I love to cook, I love people, and I would not have learned what I’ve needed to learn any other way.” Cinnamomma is a culmination of everything she loved about past pursuits. It allows for inventiveness, it pushes and fills her simultaneously, it provides endless opportunities to serve in the ways that only she can. I suppose Cinnamomma is also every bit as much a genealogical project as it is a bakery; we reach into the past, bring it to the present, and strive to improve it for the future. She can get to know her family while baking for others. Kids and cast irons, business deals and bed-times, marathons and mayhem, connection, and the artistry that incites it. This is her life’s work, inside the kitchen and out.
I eventually learned to love the kitchen, as I think we all do once we know our way around it. This is of course thanks to my mother and grandmother, who showed me the ropes...and so the pattern will continue. What makes me especially proud is that Cinnamomma has expanded that effort beyond our family tree, giving others a chance to be a part of it.
I still, on occasion, find myself situated at the counter's edge, watching and waiting. Isn’t this, in a way, what we’re all doing here? Cinnamomma (the woman and the work) has brought us together and how wonderful that is in a world keen on detachment and division. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: You should never underestimate the power of a tasty treat, and indeed, spell-bound we come. But you should also never underestimate the power of community, so thank you for taking part in ours. We can’t wait for blog articles to come. Stay tuned!
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