In the wake of January’s devastating wildfires, Los Angeles is struggling to rebuild. Stepping up to help her city bounce back is local chef, author, and social justice advocate Rose Wilde. Back in 2011, the MAD alum founded Red Bread, a zero-waste bakery that has delivered an astounding 82,000 meals through the Los Angeles Food Bank and charity bake sales. Now, she’s baking cakes in an effort to bring some much-needed joy to displaced families in LA. We talked to Rose about her Wildfire Cakes initiative and why she thinks it’s still so important for families to find moments to celebrate, even in the toughest of times.
How are things on the ground right now?
Thankfully, the fires have been contained but I think it’s hard to truly grasp the scale of the damage. People are still in shock, still dealing with FEMA [the US’s Federal Emergency Management Agency] to cover their basic needs, and unfortunately, also facing insurance companies denying their claims. Many of us are also worried about the dangerous air quality, especially those of us with young children or older parents or in-laws.
People say hospitality is often the first industry to step up for communities—has that been the case in LA?
Most of us in hospitality are here because we want to nurture, serve, and welcome you to our table. It’s no surprise that when something like this happens, hospitality is the first to mobilize. But thankfully, it’s not just hospitality. So many smaller organizations in the Eaton, Palisades, and the Sunset areas are stepping up to fill the gaps where larger organizations may have limited reach—whether it’s job centers, local fire departments, or even preschools that have taken on hundreds more children.
Tell us a bit about the Wildfire Birthday Cake initiative, and what sparked the idea?
Just a few weeks ago, I was feeding my son when I got an email from a customer. It felt surreal to read: Her house had burned down, they were no longer having the birthday party for six-year-old Lucy, and she simply asked, “Can you hold my credit?” And I was just floored. You already have this horrible thing happen, and then there are the kids who can’t quite understand the tragedy. I remember my own childhood—there were a lot of not-so-great things—but I do remember the birthday cakes. [We created this so that] basically, anyone from anywhere in the world can gift a birthday cake to a family in need. People have ordered from as far as Germany, and displaced families here in LA can easily make an order. That’s what we want to give: a spark of joy that comes out of nowhere—a cake with your name and glitter on it. A glimmer of hope and happiness that will hopefully dull some of the trauma.
How has the response been?
It’s been amazing, but we’ve had more people donate than people claim. I feel that many affected by the fires are still holding back and self-editing, saying, “My house burned down, but I’m lucky—I got out with my pets.” And I think, You don’t need to find the silver lining that fast! I just worry we’re not helping as many people as we could because of their own sense of resilience.
Before becoming a chef, you were a human rights lawyer—how did that help shape Red Bread as a community-focused business?
Coming directly from human rights, I understood the importance of building small, resilient communities that can support each other long-term. When I started the restaurant, I didn’t know much about running one, but I did know how to run an international development organization—so I structured it that way. We made sure everyone earned a good living wage and received credits they could use toward the restaurant. Many of our employees came from Chrysalis or St. Joseph Center, organizations that support people recovering from addiction or homelessness. We set the staff up in culinary programs, and they stayed on to train with me. Since 2011, we’ve also donated 15% of our revenue quarterly to the LA Food Bank.
I’ve applied the same long-term approach to our wildfire relief efforts. I don’t want to just do a one-off bake sale and then move on to something else next month. Supporting this community requires a sustained, collective effort. That’s why I’ve also been connecting with others in hospitality to see how we can work together moving forward. There can sometimes be ego involved, where people want to be the ones to “save the day.” But that doesn’t serve the greatest number of people. If we collaborate, we’ll naturally build more strength and meet the need more effectively.
It’s a pretty extreme career switch; how exactly did it happen?
In my last job in human rights, I specifically focused on women, children, and people with disabilities. I quickly realized that you couldn’t address women’s rights without confronting issues of food and feeding people. As I learned about different food systems and access issues around the world, I noticed the same problems existed here in the U.S.—we just masked them behind economic advantage. I thought: Why am I not helping here when there’s so much need right in front of me?
I took a step back, initially thinking it was just a short break for my mental health, and I started baking. My mom taught me to bake early on so I could make friends at school (laughs). Red Bread has been the rare opportunity to bring together everything I love. Through food, I’ve been able to champion the values I want to see in the world—it’s such a powerful medium. Feeding someone is one of the most intimate acts you can share because, when people eat, they take it in, it nourishes them, and it becomes a part of them. I mean, it literally becomes their cells.
In general, how is local hospitality coping—do you feel like anyone is taking care of them?
Well, sadly, all the events are getting canceled in Los Angeles. Some people simply don’t have the bandwidth, while others feel it’s in poor taste. I understand the need to be sensitive to what’s happened, but I think it’s a missed opportunity to help. Take the Grammys, for example—why don’t they just hold the event and donate a large portion of the proceeds? In my view, the “big” people aren’t supporting the community like the “little” people. The “little” people, like us, are still throwing events and dinners, and every single one is a fundraiser. But the “big” people are canceling their events because it’s supposedly “not appropriate.” To me, it feels more like an excuse to save money than an act of solidarity. A truly supportive move would be proactive, like turning an event into a fundraiser. I wish I had a better word for it, but honestly, it’s just bullshit.
How can people help, locally or abroad?
My advice would be to commit to something for the long term, making it more sustainable—it’s a long road to recovery ahead. But yeah: donate, volunteer, eat out, have a party. We can celebrate life while still honoring and sustaining the lives that were lost.