Wait, that’s a cake? Guam artist Jacqueline Sablan pushes boundaries of dessert

 By Ron Rocky Coloma

Jacqueline Sablan

Back in the ’90s, Jacqueline Sablan stood in her kitchen squinting at the pages of a worn-out cookbook. She had just purchased every baking title available from Faith Bookstore & Bestseller, frustrated by failed attempts at pretty desserts.

Her cakes tasted good, but they never looked the way she envisioned. So, she studied. “Baking for Dummies.” “The Professional Pastry Chef.” Her favorite? “The Kitchen Companion,” a dog-eared mainstay still on her shelf.

Sablan’s cake journey had been shaped by many moments along the way.

“At first,” she said, “I was simply trying to bake healthier options for myself and my parents. I wanted control over the flavors and ingredients, and I was determined to make desserts that looked as picture-perfect as the pies I saw on classic sitcoms like The Mary Tyler Moore Show or Donna Reed.”

Those sitcoms gave her a love for aprons. The baking books gave her structure. But her imagination? That came from everywhere.

Nature, nostalgia, music. Even AI.

“Most of my family and friends know to just give me a theme, size, flavor and any special info about the celebrant — then step back and let me create,” she said.

Sablan’s work blurs the line between pastry and sculpture.

One cake looked like a cup of Buldak noodles. Another resembled a worn-out fairy-tale book, made for an avid reader. Then there’s the mermaid cake, sparked by an AI rendering that challenged her to make fantasy edible.

“Art, to me, is anything that makes people feel something,” she said. “Whether it’s elegant, fun, or customized, I aim to create cakes that relate or tell a story about the person or event.”

Even with a self-taught foundation and decades of practice, she still balances between creativity and chemistry. Guam’s humidity is no friend to sugar sculptures or intricate piping. Certain textures melt. Some designs don’t survive the heat.

“Sacrifices and substitutes are the name of the game,” she said. “Many people show me pics of beautiful cakes that would never stand a chance at one of our outdoor events.”

She’ll change things up. Add structure. Adjust sugar ratios. Sometimes, the vision has to evolve.

That challenge keeps her going. So do the reactions.

“I love the smiles, the wide eyes, the people who refuse to cut the cake — I live for those moments,” she said. “But the most surprising (and touching) reaction was when someone cried tears of joy when she saw her cake.”

Sablan knows what these moments mean. Growing up, she often made cakes for her parents — and still does.

“I guess I never outgrew showing my parents my art,” she said.

Guam’s culture, too, is inseparable from her work. With fiestas, birthdays and family gatherings central to island life, Sablan feels the pressure to deliver not just beauty but taste.

“There’s a pride in what we bring to the table — literally,” she said. “When my family and friends bring a dessert to their gathering, I want them to be proud of what they brought.”

Now, she’s thinking ahead. She wants to teach again — maybe workshops or online tutorials. Maybe even open up her supply inventory for other bakers on island. She’s been there, struggling to find ingredients. She knows how hard it is to start.

Her advice?

“Jump in. Make mistakes. Learn. Mistakes are the best lessons,” she said. “Don’t wait for perfect. Create now.”

That spark she found again in 2021 — making cute heart-shaped pastries and playful jack-o-lantern treats — has yet to dim. If anything, it’s burning hotter.

“The wheels in my head began turning and have yet to stop,” she said.

   And in a small kitchen somewhere on Guam, another cake is rising.

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