The funny thing is, I never actually intended to build Mòso.

In the beginning, there was "La Boulangère".

My family gave me that name because I had reached the stage of my baking obsession where everyone was being overloaded with bread.

Every weekend, I was showing up somewhere with another loaf, and eventually they just started calling me "La Boulangère" or the baker lady.

I loved it!

So naturally, when this tiny idea of a bakery started forming La Boulangère (specifically on February 25, 2026 but let's talk about this on another day...)

There was just one small problem.

Apparently, La Boulangère is not particularly easy for Americans to say.

No offense.

But there was a bigger problem too.

I was trying to create a bakery while somehow keeping myself separate from it.

And that wasn't working.

If I was really going to share my bakes, eventually I would have to share where they came from. Haiti. My family. My memories. The flavors I grew up with. The things that feel like home to me.

And I resisted that for a while.

I think part of it was vulnerability, being spread open

I had essentially been away from social media for more than five years, since my daughter was born. Suddenly putting pieces of myself online again, and attaching them to something I created, felt incredibly scary.

Thankfully, my family wouldn't let me hide behind a pretty bakery name.

I kept coming up with names that sounded whimsical: moons and hearths and bread and all the beautiful things I wanted Mòso to feel like.

And my sister basically told me: "They're pretty. But they're flat. They could belong to anybody. They don't sound like you."

I can always trust her to tell me things like it is! Ouch.

...

But she was right.

Eventually my sister, brother-in-law, husband, brother and I sat down together and started talking through names.

And Derek, my brother-in-law, gave me the one that was so simple and yet so telling:

Mòso.

In Haitian Creole, mòso means a piece or a bite.

A piece of bread.

A bite of something delicious.

A piece of where I came from.

A piece of wherever I've called home.

A piece of my family's story, transformed into something I can hand to somebody else.

It rolled off the tongue. It was playful. It was easy to remember. And most importantly, It was MINE

Or maybe, OURS.

Because the more Mòso grows, the more I realize this bakery was never going to be something I could separate from myself, my family, or my heritage.

La Boulangère didn't disappear, though. She's still here

I am La Boulangère of Mòso.

And that feels just right.