For Front Range LGBTQ+ bakers, skill beats gender stereotypes in their demanding, creative industry

Everett Gonzales, Jr. is working as a northern Colorado realtor to finance his dream of studying at Le Cordon Bleu in France to be a pastry chef. He operates a pastry business on the side to develop his baking skills. As a gay man, he has found power in his ability to use his self-expression in a creative industry. Courtesy photo.

By Emily Kemme

Growing up, these Front Range bakers knew they were different from other kids. But the art and science of baking offered a way for each of them to come to terms with, and embrace, their sexual and gender identities.  

Emmy Johnson is a transgender woman in the process of transitioning. This June marks her second year on hormones.

“It’s a forever transition in theory, but I’ve always known,” Johnson said. “I knew I was different, that I just wasn’t right. I always knew I was a girl, when I knew the difference between sexual organs. I knew I didn’t have a woman’s body, but I wanted that.”

Everett Gonzales Jr., a northern Colorado realtor who came out as a gay man during his years at the University of Colorado Boulder, believes the differences he felt as a child centered on shame. 

“I related to the girls’ activities. Not being able to connect to my peers like they connected with one another — you don’t know how to ask those questions at that age — but the idea came into my mind that I am different, and something told me that wasn’t a good thing.”

Rachel Elkon married Amy Patterson five years ago in June on Crested Butte Mountain. As a kid, Elkon said she always enjoyed baking, long before considering it as a career. It was about making something delicious to share, and “in the turmoil of puberty and realizing I was different from other people, I realized (baking) was a safe place.”

Baking is hard work, no matter your gender

Elkon and Patterson, professional bakers who together opened Sweet & Sourdough in Denver in March 2017, have nearly 20 years combined experience in the profession. They bake about 200,000 loaves a year. Since the pandemic, they’ve offered Saturday morning home bread delivery for  a handful of Denver neighborhoods.

“As a professional in Oregon, it was me and a thousand dudes baking,” Patterson said. “They treated me with respect, but when I opened my wholesale bread bakery, it was cool. There aren’t many of these in the United States, and of those, few are owned by women.”

Rachel Elkon and Amy Patterson, co-owners of the women-owned, wholesale bread bakery, Sweet & Sourdough, cater to high end Denver restaurants. They say their sexuality doesn’t factor into their daily work as bakers. Photo courtesy of Sweet & Sourdough.

Both women put in 60 to 70 hours weekly in five, 12-14 hour shifts. They opened the business to provide a happy, healthy environment for their employees. 

“I’ve been yelled at for having chocolate on my apron after doing 100 frosted cupcakes,” Elkon recounts. “Employees are people. It doesn’t help to yell. It’s more beneficial to turn it into a learning experience, a ‘show how we do this’ and get a better result.”

The bakery is where they work, and thinking about their sexuality doesn’t factor into it. 

“Everybody is focused on the task at hand and human differences between team members tend to wash away. If you produce the most during the day, even if you’re one girl in a team of eight guys, they know that,” Elkon said.

Gonzales, who learned to bake from his dad and paternal grandma, said he took longer to get over the idea that a gay man could pursue baking as a career. But he did. 

Gonzales has a demanding pastry business, Pastry by Everett, on the side, but his long-term goal is to earn a Basic Pastry Certificate from Le Cordon Bleu in Paris or the Culinary Arts Academy in Switzerland. He’ll follow that with internships, studying under pastry chefs. His family’s cultural ideas, bookended by education, drive his mission. Part of the process is getting his French skills in order.

Everett Gonzales, Jr. is working as a northern Colorado realtor to finance his dream of studying at Le Cordon Bleu in France to be a pastry chef. He operates a pastry business on the side to develop his skills as a baker. Courtesy photo.

Gonzales was raised in a more traditional environment, where he was supposed to pursue higher education and land a well-paying job. Coming out as gay gave him the ammunition he needed to pursue his dreams.

 “Because I’m gay, it allows me to be on the fringe, I can automatically look at things and don’t see myself as part of them.”

That ideology comes from his belief that predominant culture teaches men not to express themselves. He believes baking is both a gendered and underrated profession, one where there are typically more women.

“It involves mathematics, architecture, problem solving, so it’s very well suited for someone who can incorporate both the male and female versions of themselves,” he said.

Emmy Johnson and her fiancée, Robin Klitch, run Mini Macs, a small macaron and cheesecake business that is developing a following. Johnson has worked for a number of Fort Collins restaurants, but currently works at Colorado State University for the benefits. She would like to transition into baking as a permanent career.

“Baking is who I am, being around restaurants and working for them. It’s nice to be not only recognized for myself, but also for my talents,” she said. 

Klitch loves macarons and challenged Johnson to bake them. “They’re very tricky and finicky to make,” Johnson said. “It’s a French delicacy, a top dessert, the way the shell is made is light and airy with a crunch to it.”

Johnson has perfected the folding technique — the macaronage — to create the light meringue shell sandwiching a buttercream or jam filling. Klitch uses a pastry bag to pipe the batter, called “lava,” into pan molds.

“All of our successful batches, we’ve made together,” Johnson said. “Piping is hard to do alone. I need an extra hand, it’s technical.”

Identifying as LGBTQ+ means loving who they are today

Gonzales sees a connection between his sexuality and his love of baking. Finding the courage to embrace one allowed him to embrace the other -- without regard for the stigma and stereotypes of either. 

“One shouldn’t shy from pursuing (baking) because we’re taught that artists are a different breed or part of society who shouldn’t be making real decisions or aren’t contributing something valuable to society. We make people happy.”

In that, Gonzales believes baking is a method for blowing the lid off the patriarchy.

Emmy Johnson’s transition occurred within her relationship with Klitch, who identifies as pansexual. The couple has been together for six years, and decided to have their son, Basil, now two-and-a-half, before Johnson started feminizing hormone therapy.

Emmy Johnson and Robin Klitch had been in a relationship before Johnson began feminizing hormone therapy. They decided to have a son, Basil, now two-and-a-half, before beginning the treatments. They are engaged, and run a Fort Collins macaron cookie company together, which is developing a following. Courtesy photo.

But now, Klitch said, “Basil has two awesome moms.”

Klitch said her friends were amazed that after Johnson came out, Klitch  was still attracted to her. “But when you’re in love with someone’s soul, it doesn’t matter what they look like on the outside,” she explained.

Klitch is having a good time watching Johnson grow and flourish, she said. As a family, raising their son, the gender things seem to matter less than feeling comfortable with their chosen path.