DETROIT, MI - Prayer of Thanksgiving for Cake, Deliverance, and Overflow – In Jesus’ Name, Amen Detroit. Land of Black foodie excellence and the nation’s best catfish fryers. A place where the music slaps, the museums educate, and the food? Whew, Good God… the food. I was on my usual Spirit-led assignment—supporting the culture and feeding my soul—when somebody shared in my digital ear, go to Carrot Cake with a Twist on East Jefferson. Get the banana pudding.” Now let me pause here and share my testimony. I’ve carried a carrot cake trauma in my spirit since 1999. A high school potluck. A dear elder with early-onset memory loss made a carrot cake that tastes like hate. Raisins. Eggshells. Nutmeg confusion. The saints didn’t eat it because of their sugar, so they made me eat it. I’ve been avoiding that confection ever since. But God, you are a REDEEMER!! I walked into Bucharest Grill, where this bakery is housed, and I ordered everything on the menu. Not some things. All things. Because when the Lord delivers, He delivers abundantly. First Blessing: The Carrot Cake Oh taste and see. The cake was tall, tall enough to have opinions, with thick, gently spiced layers that were dense but never heavy. The texture? Like soft velvet met a tender muffin at the altar and made a holy union. Bits of real carrot gave it character without turning it into a vegetable sermon. The cream cheese frosting? Silky. Smooth. Tangy with restraint. It didn’t come to shout, but to harmonize. Each bite was a redemption arc. Where once there were eggshells, now there was balance. Where once there was regret, now there was a moist, cinnamon-kissed blessing that made me close my eyes and utter, “Thank you for second chances.” Romans 8:28 says: "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him..." And this cake worked it out for the good. Second Blessing: The Red Velvet Now Lord, you really showed out here. This was not just a red-colored chocolate cake with cream cheese frosting like they be doing at these Instagram bakeries. No. This was an entire Red Velvet experience. Deep crimson layers, dense but fluffy, with a delicate cocoa undertone that let you know it came from a home that values discipline and prayer. But the revelation? Each layer was crowned with a creamy, velvety slab of cheesecake. Smooth, tangy, unapologetic. A balance between richness and restraint. It had body. It had bounce. It had purpose. Third Blessing: The Poundcake You know the Black church doesn’t play around with poundcake. It’s either moist or it’s trash. Ain’t no lukewarm in this ministry. But this? This was healing. Dense yet soft. Rich without being greasy. It held its shape but melted in your mouth like a worship song that sneaks up on you during benediction. Even days later, it hadn’t dried out. Still moist. Still fragrant. Still covered by Psalm 121:7: "The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil: He shall preserve thy soul." And apparently… also this poundcake. Fourth Blessing: The Banana Pudding Cheesecakes Now you could’ve stopped, Lord. But you didn’t. Because you’re a God of overflow. Luke 6:38 says: "Give, and it shall be given unto you... pressed down, shaken together and running over..." This was the running over. Each cheesecake sat humbly in a plastic cup like container, no crust, just layers. Folded in were whole and crushed Nilla Wafers, soaked but never soggy. The cheesecake itself? Rich, creamy, smooth. Not overly sweet. Banana-forward, but not in a baby-food way. It had depth. You could taste vanilla. Maybe a touch of cinnamon. Real banana pudding swirled through the center like a praise break mid-sermon. The classic banana pudding cheesecake was the star. It was balanced, nostalgic, and present. The strawberry? Fruity, playful, also a blessing. The Oreo? Lord… I discerned a slight rebellion in the spirit. Not bad, just not yet sanctified. It may need a little more time in the wilderness. Final Blessing: The Peanut Butter Cookies Now Father, this was personal. You knew. You knew. Most folks bake peanut butter cookies like they angry. Dry, crumbly, no grace. But you led these bakers differently. Three large cookies. Edges kissed golden. Center barely baked through, fudge-like, tender, almost melting on contact. Sweet and salty in perfect proportion. Peanut-forward, like roasted peanuts ground fresh, not from a tub. I took a bite and said, “This cookie was made with my name on it.” Because you’re just that kind of God. So Today, I Just Want to Say Thank You Thank you for Detroit. Thank you to our people. Thank you for generational flavor and modern execution. And thank you for Carrot Cake With a Twist, a bakery that reminds us Black joy can be layered, frosted, preserved, and eaten with a fork. Oh, and the peach cobbler was slappin! Just forgot to get in detail, but yeah, another hit. If you want to be blessed, get your deliverance on a plate and call them at (313) 243-6058. Tell them The Hungry Black Man sent you.