Most people who aren’t from around here don’t realize how much Mardi Gras matters in my hometown of Hattiesburg, Mississippi.
It surprises them. They think of New Orleans first—and they should. They think of Mobile, which makes a strong and rightful claim as the birthplace of Mardi Gras in America. They think of the Mississippi Gulf Coast, where Carnival season is stitched into daily life. What they often miss is that Hattiesburg has long carried a deep connection to Mardi Gras.
In my case, that connection runs straight through family.
The Mystic Krewe of Zeus, the oldest krewe in Hattiesburg, has been part of my life for generations. My grandfather helped found it. A cousin served as the first queen. My father was a member. Membership passed to me, and later to my son. My daughter had the honor of serving as queen, and her old man served as king.
For all that, king cakes weren’t a big part of growing up.
They existed, sure, but they weren’t central. They were talked about more than they were eaten. A few local bakeries began making them in the 1980s, and they were fine, but king cakes hadn’t yet become the cultural obsession they are today.
That changed for me after Crescent City Grill opened in the late ’80s.
Running a New Orleans–inspired restaurant naturally tends to pull you into the vibe of that city. In the mid-1990s, we started serving king cake bread pudding during Carnival season. It was an immediate hit. Looking back, that probably should’ve told me something. At the time, it just felt like one more seasonal dish people loved.
Back then, there was no bakery. No plan to open one. And absolutely no knowledge of how to run one.
A French pastry chef moved to Hattiesburg years later and opened a small bakery across from Crescent City Grill. His king cakes were excellent—every bit as good as what I brought back from New Orleans. He eventually closed after a brave but lost battle with cancer. In that moment, Hattiesburg lost something special.
Based on no sound business logic and zero baking experience, I opened a French-inspired bakery mainly because it felt like the town needed one.
The first king cakes didn’t even come from the bakery. They were made out of The Midtowner kitchen while Loblolly was still under construction. That crew could turn out about thirty-five a day. They were driven down the street and sold at Crescent City Grill. Lines stretched down the sidewalk. Cakes sold out in minutes. That told us everything we needed to know about the coming days that lay ahead.
The following year, a hunch turned into a mission.
I drove to New Orleans with the sole purpose of buying as many king cakes as I could load in my truck to see if the hype was real. I stopped at bakeries all over the city and came home with around thirty-five of them. Dong Phuong had long been treated as the standard. It was revered. And rarely questioned.
The honest goal was to prove it was overrated.
It wasn’t. Not by a long shot.
I sampled every king cake I brought back—several bites of each, spread across a counter late one Sunday afternoon. Dong Phuong was the clear winner. No debate. No question. That became our benchmark.
The first Mardi Gras season with the bakery open, the team managed sixty to seventy cakes on a few days. We sold out every day, and I was grateful—but not proud yet. It wasn’t where it needed to be. The team was still learning. So was I.
Here’s the truth: I entered the bakery business knowing next to nothing about the bakery business. I am not now, nor have I ever been, a baker. Everything on my end has been learned the hard way.
Over time, a strong team came together. The product improved. Last year, we reached volumes around two hundred fifty king cakes a day, sometimes pushing three hundred. Most days sold out. They were good. Actually, I believed them to be exceptional (and I feel as if I can be a non-biased judge of our restaurants and products).
Granted, king cakes are subjective. Everyone has an opinion. I have several strong ones.
Too many king cakes suffer from bad bread. Dry. Dense. Lifeless. Tasteless. A king cake should be soft and tender. Moist, but not wet. If the bread isn’t right, nothing else matters.
The icing is another problem with many king cakes. Many bakeries drown their cakes in thick, overly sweet icing that hardens as it sits. It’s heavy. It’s stiff and cloying. The sweetness overwhelms everything. We use a light frosting instead, just sweet enough to do the job and get out of the way.
Then there’s the sugar. In my research I found that too many bakeries dumped piles of granulated sugar on top, adding grit and even more sweetness. Sweet for the sake of sweet is never a good thing.
But the biggest problem is filling.
Most fruit-filled king cakes rely on canned jelly or doughnut filling. We tried that early on. It never felt honest. It never tasted right, and I was never proud of the end result. We were taking a shortcut. The blueberry king cake at Loblolly uses local blueberries picked at peak season, frozen and held specifically for us. Blueberries, cream cheese, cinnamon, and restraint. That’s it. It makes a difference.
Last year we hit the road started holding pop-ups across the region. Demand outran capacity. Lines formed in parking lots. Sales had to be limited. Cakes still ran out.
This season, the bakery is better prepared. I bought an additional oven, one specifically used for baking the perfect king cake. Five hundred cakes a day is our realistic goal this year, with six hundred a day during peak. Retail partners across Mississippi and Louisiana are now carrying Loblolly king cakes. People kept asking and now nationwide overnight shipping is in place. That is going to be huge.
Looking back over a forty-four-year career, two moments from last year stand out more than most, and both belong to the bakery team.
The New York Times named Loblolly Bakery one of the Top 22 Bakeries in the U.S. That recognition belongs entirely to the people inside that building today, showing up at all hours, day and night.
The second happened while visiting our son in Chicago. A text arrived saying the King Cake Mafia had reviewed our king cakes. Expectations were low. Louisiana critics aren’t known for generosity when it comes to Mississippi bakeries dabbling in sacred Louisiana staples.
I was nervous opening up TikTok.
The score was high. Josh gave it a 10 and Patrick gave it a 9.7. HUGE! Later, in their end-of-season review, one named Loblolly’s king cake his favorite of the year. The other placed us just behind Dong Phuong.
That was the moment it felt like the work had landed where it was supposed to.
Again, none of this happens alone. Credit belongs to the leadership team, the bakers, the decorators, and the people who show up way before dawn and stay after dark. Pride lives there—not in the attention, but in the effort.
Mardi Gras has always been about continuity—family, community, and the quiet commitment to show up year after year and do it a little better than the year before. It’s passed down, not perfected. Learned by watching, then by doing.
King cakes just happen to be part of that story now.
Onward and laissez les bons temps rouler!
Orange Country Ham
2 Tbl Unsalted Butter
1 1/2 lbs. Country Ham, sliced 1/8-1/4” thick
1/4 cup Orange Juice, freshly squeezed
2 Tbl Orange Marmalade
1/4 cup Pure Maple Syrup
1 1/2 tsp Black Pepper, freshly ground
Place a large heavy duty skillet over medium-high heat. Melt half of the butter and just as it begins to brown, place the ham slices in the skillet. Brown each side and place ham on a baking sheet. Repeat this process to brown the remaining ham.
Lower the heat and place the orange juice, marmalade and maple syrup in the ham skillet. Cook for 4-5 minutes, stirring often to prevent burning. Add the ham back into the skillet along with the black pepper. Use a pair of tongs to move the ham and coat each slice with the glaze. When the ham is coated and hot, remove from the heat and serve immediately.
Yield: 6-8 servings
