Most of my life, I wasn’t a fan of Mardi Gras king cakes. Even during the decades when I consumed bucketsful of sugar—cereal straight out of the box, candy by the case—I still thought king cakes were over the top. Too sweet, too dry, too artificial. The filled ones I came across were like oversized jelly donuts with what seemed like overly sweet and gelatinous, pre-made canned filling, a thick, crackly layer of icing finished with so much colored granulated sugar it looked like someone emptied out the craft cabinet.
But it wasn’t just the sweetness that left me cold—it was the disappointment. King cake was supposed to be special, fun, and festive, but it rarely lived up to the celebration. And I’ve always believed that disappointment in food is disappointment in the experience it represents. I didn’t want something that only looked festive; I wanted something that tasted like joy itself.
For those who’ve never had one, a Mardi Gras king cake isn’t exactly what you’d think of as a traditional cake. It’s more like a cross between a coffee cake and a sweet roll, shaped into an oval or circle to symbolize unity and tradition. The dough is soft, slightly sweet, and often swirled with cinnamon, though some versions include rich fillings like cream cheese or praline. After baking, it’s topped with a glossy layer of icing and sprinkled with purple, green, and gold sugar—each color representing justice, faith, and power. And somewhere inside that cake, a tiny plastic baby is tucked away (those these days they’re mostly found on top). Tradition says that whoever finds the baby in their slice is responsible for bringing the next king cake to the party—a sweet burden, if you ask me.
Back then, on the rare occasion when I’d try another slice, I always found the same issues: dry cake and fillings that tasted like they came from a can. And dry cake was a deal-breaker for me. There’s that age-old debate—cake or pie? Younger me was Team Cake all day…unless it was dry. A dry cake would send me straight to the nearest pie without hesitation. Pie is never dry.
So when I opened Loblolly Bakery in Hattiesburg—a town just 90 miles from Mobile, where Mardi Gras began, and a little over an hour from New Orleans, where it became legendary—I knew a king cake was non-negotiable. But it had to be different. It had to be stellar.
Two years ago, as part of my research and development, I went all-in on king cakes. When I open a new concept, I don’t cut corners. I travel, taste, and learn everything I can in search of inspiration. Sometimes that process takes years. When it came to king cakes, I headed straight to New Orleans and came home with 32 different king cakes from some of the most respected bakeries in the city. Seriously, thirty-two king cakes. That’s a lot of sugar, even for younger me.
I’d heard for years that Dong Phuong Bakery—a James Beard Award winner with a devoted following—had the best king cake around. I went into the king-cake tasting project determined to see if someone else could top them. Truthfully, I was on a mission to disprove the hype. But after taste-testing my way through New Orleans, I had to admit the excitement was real. Their king cake was exceptional. Soft, moist dough. Smooth, balanced icing—not too sweet, not too thick. No mountains of colored sugar on top. It was everything a king cake should be.
That’s when I knew our task: through reverse engineering, create a king cake that hit all the right notes but stayed true to what makes Loblolly Bakery special. I didn’t want to straight copy anyone else, but I did want to use Dong Phuong as my inspiration and capture the same excellence that made them a household name.
Maybe your first memory of king cake was your grandmother slicing it after Sunday dinner, or maybe you’ve only ever tried one from a grocery store display with a plastic baby sliding around in the icing. No matter how you came to know it, there’s something universal about wanting food that feels worth celebrating. That’s what we set out to create.
It took some time, and we didn’t nail it on the first try. Actually, we didn’t nail it in the first year. But we kept at it. During the off-season, our team met, made adjustments, and set goals. By mid-December, we finally got there.
Our king cake is soft, moist, and filled with real ingredients—not canned donut filling. The blueberries in our blueberry king cake come from my friend Tim Goggans’ farm, frozen at the peak of the season so they’re just as vibrant months later. We make a classic cinnamon and cream cheese version and a pecan praline because, in this part of the world, you can’t talk Mardi Gras without praline. My personal favorite is lemon curd, and even though it’s not in the daily rotation, I’m excited to roll it out as a special feature sometime this season.
We offer king cake versions of our food at most of our concepts— king cake French toast at The Midtowner and a king cake milkshake at Ed’s Burger Joint. Two nights ago, a family drove three hours from Orange Beach, Alabama, to Crescent City Grill after seeing a video about our king cake bread pudding. They were on a mission (one that I can appreciate because I’ve done it before)—three hours on the road, an hour and a half for dinner, then three hours back home, in the rain, at night. That’s commitment.
When I heard their story, I walked over to their table to thank them. The dad smiled like someone who’d just won the lottery. They apparently follow me on TikTok and had seen the king cake bread pudding reel and decided to make a road trip. While they were dining, I ran down to the bakery, grabbed a fresh king cake, and dropped it off at their table. I’d like to think they made it home with the cake intact…but if they didn’t, I understand. I’ve been that excited before, too.
Many think that king cakes are only coveted in the Mardi Gras nerve centers of New Orleans, Coastal Mississippi, and Mobile. But they are valued, appreciated, and enjoyed all over South Mississippi. This year, we’re taking our king cakes on the road with Loblolly pop-ups. Every morning, we load up 100 cakes and head to different towns across the Pine Belt—Wiggins, Purvis, Columbia, Petal, Bellevue, Laurel, and beyond. People were driving 40 miles or more to the bakery, only to find out we’d sold out for the day. So, we decided to bring the cakes to them. It’s more work, but it’s worth it to see the excitement on people’s faces.
When I handed that king cake to the dad from Orange Beach the other night, it struck me: food isn’t just sustenance—it’s memory. It’s the stories you tell years later about the drive you took, the dinner you shared, the joy of a small indulgence that felt like an event. We’re proud of what we’ve created, but what makes me happiest is knowing our king cake might become a part of someone’s story.
Somewhere along the way, I went from king cake skeptic to king cake believer. It’s funny how time changes our tastes. The foods we once avoided can become the ones we savor. I didn’t touch turnip greens until I was 40. Now they’re a staple at my table. King cake might just top that list for me.
So, what’s the food you swore you’d never love that became a part of your story? Mardi Gras reminds us to keep an open mind and celebrate the surprises along the way. Life is sweeter when we make room for something new.
Laissez les bons temps rouler!
Onward.
