Cheesecake’s full-circle moment

Cheesecake 51, now known as their signature cheesecake

An hour-long, warm conversation began over a box of four cheesecakes. Three were from Fedici’s new Pinoy collection: turon, my favorite, which really tasted like turon in cheesecake form, sans the crunch; a rather amusing bilo-bilo; and ube.

And then, there was the fourth—the original Fedici cheesecake.

For some reason, that was the one I particularly liked. Creamy, rich, and decadent, yet simple. Honest and no-frills. It was just as a good, old-fashioned cheesecake should be. In retrospect, I think I liked it even more after I met its baker.

Pinoy Cheesecake Series: turon, bilo-bilo, and ube

From weddings to cheesecake

Of all the cheesecakes Meriel Faye Q. Acaba makes, the original reminded me most of her.

Acaba is what she bakes: warm, honest, without pretense, and refreshingly straightforward. But there is nothing simple about how she got here. That original cheesecake took her 51 tries. “I really made it 51 times,” she says. “I have it documented.”

Before baking cheesecakes, Acaba was a wedding planner. Then the pandemic came and, almost overnight, there were no weddings to plan. She spent much of that time helping others until her father asked: What if events never came back? What would she have for herself?

The question frightened her enough to start looking for something of her own. That something became cheesecake.

32” giant wafer strawberry cheesecake, topped with strawberries from Baguio with fresh flower decor

Fifty-one tries later

Funnily enough, Acaba wasn’t even particularly fond of cheesecake. Her sister was. She simply knew what she didn’t like about the many cheesecakes she had eaten—the texture, the mouthfeel, the extenders—so she started from there.

Acaba baked and tweaked, baked and tweaked, over and over. By cheesecake number 51, she was ready to give up.

Around that time, her college friend, Marvin Olivarez, insisted on tasting one. Acaba wasn’t convinced it was good enough, but before sending it to him, she said a little prayer. “Lord, hindi ko kasi alam kung masarap ’to. Please.” All she asked was that whoever ate it would be happy.

He tasted it. And liked it. “I like the cheesecake,” he told her. “It made me happy.” Acaba took it as a sign. “Maybe this is really the product the Lord gave me.”

That cheesecake became Fedici’s signature. And her business took off… all too quickly.

What wasn’t meant to be… at first

Young, excited, and admittedly aggressive, Acaba opened a physical store. When the space beside it became available, she took that, too. Her parents even asked if she was ready. She thought she was.

But there were investors, construction costs, rent, and mounting expenses. Soon, what she earned online was keeping the store alive. Eventually, she had to close it. The dream had become debt, with personal loans and investors to repay. Acaba found herself at rock bottom.

Her family stayed beside her. Her mother helped wherever she could. Her father handcrafted the carts Fedici would later use for its cheesecake and charcuterie stations. And when the store finally closed, he was there to embrace his daughter and remind her to pick up the pieces.

Her faith carried her through the rest. “I came from rock bottom,” Acaba told me. “And there, I saw God.”

She remembers going to church carrying a mountain of debt and simply surrendering it. Looking back, she learned that wanting something badly did not mean it was meant for her at that moment.

Small but incredible

What came next was completely unexpected: a little cup of strawberries, chocolate, and cheesecake. Acaba had seen chocolate-covered strawberries served in cups abroad and wondered, why not add cheesecake?

She called it the Cup O’ Berry Cheesecake.

It went viral. Orders poured in. Her mother sat removing strawberry leaves as they tried to keep up. More importantly, that little cup helped Acaba pay off her debts. Then the retail space where she was selling it became unavailable. Another door had closed. But somehow, it opened a way back into weddings.

Only this time, Acaba wasn’t planning them. She was bringing Fedici into them.

It started with cheesecake and charcuterie, then came food stations and packages for entire celebrations. Looking back, her years as a wedding planner had been preparing her for this all along. She already knew how to put a celebration together.

A creative way of putting cheese, fruit, deviled eggs, and pancakes—made for Gideon Hermosa’s masterclass

Giant cheesecakes, gigantic offerings

One day, a client sought her out to ask if she could make an enormous cheesecake, like those seen at weddings abroad—and Acaba figured it out. Today, Fedici easily makes giant cheesecakes that reach up to 32 inches and weigh some 25 to 30 kilos. And they aren’t merely decorative—guests actually get to enjoy eating them.

But Fedici goes beyond cheesecakes. The brand now creates an assortment of food and experiential stations for events—from charcuterie, wagyu, sushi, and pasta to desserts, coffee, and yes, even flower and perfume bars.

The lady who never gave up until she got it right

At 32, Acaba is also a different entrepreneur from the one who opened that first store. “The more you rush, the longer it takes,” she says. She learned that lesson the expensive way.

The pandemic took her away from weddings and led her to cheesecake. Funny how, years later, cheesecake brought her right back to weddings—but in a different way.

Thinking about it now, I believe that of the four cheesecakes in that box, the original resonated with me most. Beyond being creamy and decadent, it was simple, warm, and honest, somehow carrying the spirit of its baker—the lady who never gave up until she got it right.