An Interview with Ron Ben-Israel of Ron Ben-Israel Cakes

Ron Ben-Israel is more than just one of the most talented cake bakers of our time — he is an artist. It isn’t just his tremendous technical skill that makes Ron such a standout in the world of pastries, though; it is his kindness, quick wit, and true passion for the craft. To get the best sense of his journey, I sat down with Ron to discuss his experiences as a couture cake designer in the wedding industry and beyond.

I read that your fascination with baking began with your mother baking when you were a child. I would love to hear a bit more about those memories and how your relationship to your mother and to family in general has impacted your journey as a baker.

So, I think it was a two-fold fascination. First of all, I was a very hungry child, especially for sugar and sweets. I just could not have enough sweets. Not so much candy, but I was fascinated by cakes. And I was very lucky; my parents came from Europe, and all of our neighbors and family were Hungarian, Austrian, German, and French. And also, Tel Aviv, where I grew up, has an amazing community of bakers full of coffee shops and bake shops. I would save my little money from babysitting or other jobs and go to the big city just to order a cup of coffee and a danish or a special slice of cake. I really loved the whole adult feel of ordering in a cafe or a bake shop.

So I liked the taste, of course, but the other thing that I was fascinated by is the techniques. You know, just seeing egg whites whipped into a meringue or heavy cream whipped into a crème Chantilly — which is the light, fluffy whipped cream — fascinated me. Not just the flavor, but the seeming miracle of transforming ingredients — simple ingredients like eggs, cream, flour, sugar, and butter — into a concoction. The only downside was cleaning the dishes, which I never liked.

I also read that you never imagined the “art and science” of baking would become your life’s passion. I was wondering if you might be able to dive a bit deeper into these dual art and science elements and how they work together.

Well, I didn’t know it was science. You know, I didn’t know that the molecules in egg whites trap pockets of air. And once I did, I wanted to find out who invented it, who figured out… I think it’s miraculous. But I also didn’t realize that cakes could be an art form. I went to art school, specializing in sculpture and drawing, and learned all the classic techniques. And I thought that I’d probably pursue a career in theater — sets, costumes, something like that. I had no idea. But my life took another turn, because a friend from art school said to me, “I started taking modern dance classes, would you like to come and see it?” I did folk dancing, which I loved, you know, but when I saw modern dance, I was just… I couldn’t wait to get my first pair of tights and join class.

So, I did that for about 15 years, and I got to achieve many different things. But, you know, dancing is very hard on the body, and I started pretty late, because, being from Israel, I was in the army for three years. By the time I finished, I was 21. And then I worked really hard, and before I knew it, I was approaching 40. At this point I was in New York, and there were so many different opportunities. I don’t want to say that I had 100 jobs, but close to it! One of the most fascinating jobs that I had was dressing up models during the fashion shows in Bryant Park; that was the hub. And it was fascinating, because you would get to prep the area, then dress models for 10-15 minutes. They’d go out on the runway, do their thing amazingly, come back, change their outfit, and go back again. It was very much like dancing with the community aspect, but it also made me feel professional, and I met a lot of people. So that was a favorite job.

I also, because I liked cooking and baking, wanted to try jobs in different commercial bakeries. And I got a lot of pointers, but it was very repetitive. We were supposed to make 600 cakes a week, but all the same! So, because of my arts background, I got a job as a stylist in showrooms. We have a big building in downtown New York City which houses dozens and dozens of tabletop companies. They produce china, crystal, home decor, and so forth. So, I was working for a designer in this porcelain showroom, and I would always bring little cakes for lunch to share with the crew — nothing fancy, but delicious. And he said, “Since you like baking so much, maybe you can create little cakes to enhance the china.” I looked at the china patterns, and they were fascinating. There were flowers and decorative elements… I started replicating it as I knew how to from art class, and it wasn’t enough. So, I went to buy supplies at a cake decorating supply shop in Chelsea. And there they had all the tools that I’d dreamt about… I knew some of them because they looked like sculpting tools! And the miracle? I saw a nice lady holding a display cake, a cake covered with flowers. But they didn’t look real — they looked more like fashion flowers. So I asked her, “How are the flowers made?” And she said, “They’re made out of sugar paste, and I just so happen to teach a class tomorrow if you’d like to join us.” So, 25 years later, she is still my mentor. Her name is Betty van Norstrand. She has taught thousands of pastry chefs her techniques. And she really, still to this day, critiques my work. She gives me, maybe not a hand, but a guiding light.

And then I met another person, because I wanted to buy the ultimate book to learn how to bake professional wedding cakes. I found The Cake Bible by Rose Levy Beranbaum. It was a little bit before I had email, so I wrote Rose, introduced myself, and we met for coffee and cake. We not only became close friends, but she is also my baking mentor. So I always say, find mentorship! I don’t like the term “self-taught.” Of course, I worked tirelessly by myself, but all based on knowledge I absorbed. I always feel that one needs to credit mentors. Of course, it’s a great pleasure when they credit me!

So, I continued doing little display cakes. And the next job was to decorate the windows of a shop on Fifth Avenue. It was Mikimoto, a Japanese manufacturer of the finest pearls. So I made cakes, little cakes for the windows, and I thought that was it. I got paid. I was happy. And then people started coming to the store, asking not about the pearls, but about who made the cakes! We started getting orders. I had no idea what I was doing, but I knew I could not bake the cakes from home. So, I found a caterer who would let me rent their kitchen for $50 a night. I would take all of my supplies, get to the kitchen, bake the cakes, use the refrigerators and the mixers, and I would have a complete cake by the next morning. I don’t know when I slept!

One day, I got a phone call. The person says, “Hi, this is Martha”, and there’s only one person who introduces herself with the first name Martha only. So, I thought it was a joke. I thought somebody was pulling my leg, but it was really Martha Stewart! She was starting her wedding magazine, she needed people to make cakes, and she saw mine at the pearl store. We met for breakfast, and she gave me scones that she’d baked that morning on her TV show. She became my third mentor, taught me how to present things for publication and for TV. There’s a huge body of work that I worked on with her and her editors for more than 20 years; we got many covers and many stories. And I miss those days, because I had people who critiqued my work, artistically and creatively, and gave me ideas. I really miss it, because now we are sort of in charge of our own destiny through social media. And instead of feedback, I get fans. I think everybody needs an editor in their creative life.

Over the years, you’ve also developed a love for teaching your craft to others. Are you still actively teaching courses?

I would love to, but — the ICC, which started as the French Culinary Institute and then evolved into the International Culinary Center, unfortunately closed during COVID. So I don’t have a home to teach in New York City. But, we’ve also moved to a giant facility on West 38th Street, midtown. My street is filled with garment stores, design stores, and lots of trinkets. There’s influence and inspiration everywhere. We even have a store dedicated to only zippers, all colors and shapes! Our facility, though, is located on the 13th floor of a commercial building. And we have the full floor; it’s 5,000 square feet. We have a large showroom and a teaching area. Many years ago, I moved the classes in-house, which was very successful. We’ve noticed in the past two years, post-COVID, that we’re not getting the same traction. So, we keep a mailing list and hope that there will be some shift. I would teach, and my crew loves teaching with me, and we have the facility and the tools… it’s just how to get the students!

To be added to Ron’s mailing list for future class announcements, email support@weddingcakes.com.

Something I was really interested in is the language of a “couture cake.” So I was wondering what, in your mind, makes a cake couture?

I did not coin the term… all of those accolades came from the outside. I even resist the term “chef”, because I’m too young to be a chef. You know, a chef is a master. I’m a baker. I’m always proud of the word “baker.” Of course, it’s much more. And then over the years, the term “cake designer” was coined, which I will accept.

I always maintain that everybody has the right to shop. And usually they shop visually, and then they come to taste cakes and we customize from there. So, you can look at most of our work as made-to-order. You know, we have certain formulas, things that I like. For example, I like odd numbers in a cake. So, most often I would suggest to a prospective couple maybe three tiers, five tiers, or seven tiers. That’s just a personal preference. The couture part is more rare. It’s when somebody comes in and declares, “I would like a cake that nobody has seen before.” And that’s a whole different process. I’ll give you an example. We had a bride. We looked around and around and around and finally she said, “I’m Russian. I like the cherry orchard play by Chekhov and I would like you to go with it.” So, since I got the permission and had the time and budget to play with, we made three different versions of the cherry tree cake. We had the branches, the cherry blossoms, and the cherry fruit, all made out of icing. The process of finding the perfect cake did take three rounds of design, and the cake was quite costly and huge. Another thing that we need to remember in celebrating weddings and special events is that size does matter. If your wedding, let’s say, is for 30-50 people, the investment on the cake will naturally be much lower. If you’re having a wedding for 400 people, we have more space to cover and you can play more. So, it’s hard to define how to get a couture cake. I think everybody deserves to have it, but not everybody wants to invest in it. Our services cost money. That’s how we get paid. That’s how we pay for our rent, our ingredients, and so forth. And time is money, so we try to define in advance how deep we are going.

I talked about the garment district here, which is full of trinkets, pieces of lace, and any fabric in the world you would imagine. When I went to cake school, we learned how to do traditional piping, and I didn’t like it. It was sort of like every cake looked like the other, and you picked cakes from a catalog. Meanwhile, through Martha and other wedding magazines, I got to meet leading fashion designers who started designing bridal dresses. And the initial bridal dresses I saw in the 80s and early 90s all had puffy sleeves, shoulder pads, overuse of satin, all of that. And I didn’t see the female figure as much. Until the new designers, like Vera Wang, Monique Lhuillier, Oscar de la Renta, Carolina Herrera, started showing the way. I decided to research techniques in icing to replicate fabric effects like lace. And really, there were none. All we had was soft frosting piped through a tube. So, I started gathering pieces of lace from the brides and the designers. I’d cast them in silicon to have custom-made molds that could be replicated with icing. So, if you want to have an absolutely custom couture experience, you will have a custom dress made and you will get samples from the designer to be recreated in silicon and then icing!

Are there any cakes that stand out in your memory as having been particularly exciting or rewarding to create?

So, for many years, I was almost a slave to obsession, perfection, and quantity. As I was exploring design ideas, I used the quantity as a guide. I remember a cake that I created a long time ago. One of my favorite flavors is jasmine — jasmine tea and jasmine flowers. So this cake had 300 handmade jasmine blossoms, which I made myself, because I was working mostly by myself at that time. Eventually I got students to pitch in, and they became my first generation of helpers, chefs, and artisans. So after I made 300 blossoms for the top of the cake, I then made hundreds (I didn’t even count!) of the same jasmine blossom, but in an effect that looked like lace to cover the cake. And the point was always just more, more, and more. Over the years, I’ve changed my point of view. I started saying, “What about making minimalist cakes? Instead of hundreds of sugar flowers, how about one giant sugar flower, almost like a fashion statement?”

I always look at the runway shows in Italy, France, and here for ideas. You know, some of the designers, what they use on the runway will never be worn again. But the pieces might still be a great influence for a cake! So I keep exploring, but I am no longer a slave to quantity. A cake could be small and still stunning. I guess I just came up with a definition! Couture doesn’t necessarily mean opulence. It could be simple, but with the intention of creating a one-of-a-kind experience and matching the result to a specific celebrant.

Finally, you are a current member of the City Harvest Food Council, and your company regularly promotes the City Harvest charity. What is it about their mission that speaks to you the most?

I’ll tell you how it started. Nobody likes to talk about it, but once in a while, there’s a cancellation of a wedding. It can happen for many different reasons. We had a cake for 400 people. It was paid for, all ready, just waiting in the refrigerator to be delivered. And we got a fatal phone call that said, “The wedding is canceled.” Fully canceled. I know it’s very sad, but there’s a happy ending. I made some calls, and I heard about the City Harvest organization, which was collecting food for the hungry and homeless in New York City. I brought in the disassembled cake and we were able to feed over 400 hungry New Yorkers with a great-tasting wedding cake. That started the relationship with this wonderful organization. City Harvest was founded by chefs and restaurateurs in New York City but became a model, an organization that fights hunger all over the country and the world. So, over time, they developed the concept of a culinary evening where contributors will contribute funds for the cause and, in exchange, will be able to tour and visit with different restaurateurs and chefs. It’s also a big auction, and sometimes I get sold in the auction to cook dinner for people! At the last event in June, which was called Summer in the City, we raised enough funds to feed one million hungry New Yorkers. So we’ve been doing it for a long time because it’s a great way to give back to the community and also have great fun with my colleagues, share food, and feel good about our work. And let’s face it, our work here in the cake studio is a luxury event. Not everybody is going to have a cake, and not everybody is going to be able to afford such a luxurious cake. In a way, we’re very grateful to our clients who sponsor our work and allow me, in turn, to contribute to the greater community as a whole.

So, yes, Ron Ben-Israel crafts some of the most incredible-tasting and elaborately-designed cakes on the market. His true talent, though, is facilitating those one-of-a-kind experiences for each of his clients. A little piece of Ron’s heart goes into every cake he bakes, and I’d venture that is the true magic.