Welcome to the Porch

If you’re looking for a house with strict rules and pristine, untouched parlors, you’ve pulled into the wrong driveway.

Start a (small) Riot

The Tuesdee House was born from a beautiful sort of chaos—the kind that happens when you combine a well-stocked pantry, an open-door policy, and an innate inability to host a simple gathering without it turning into a full-blown, late-night affair. My friends joke that it’s my superpower: I can whip up a spontaneous three-course dinner and a signature cocktail out of seemingly thin air. (“Of course you do,” they laugh, as the ice starts shaking.)

Naturally, underfoot through it all are the beloved fur babies —the true directors of mischief around here. They’re the ones reminding us that while the linens should be crisp, life is meant to be lived with a little dirt on your paws and a lot of joy in your stride.

If a rogue marshmallow happens to bounce off the counter, well... consider it a quality control tax.

ALL IN THE FAMILY TREE

But long before I was throwing together midnight cocktail hours, I was learning the art of the welcome from the matriarchs who came before me.

I spent years in the world of commercial interior design, obsessing over "Spec’d to Code" requirements and ensuring every floor plan had a soul. But the most important structure I ever built wasn't made of steel or glass—it was a legacy. My aunts were the keepers of that magic. They were the ones who cheered on my wildest creative whims, met me at the door with a hug that could heal anything, and taught me that the most important thing you can build in this life is a sense of belonging.

The sweetest things weren't bought; they were found in the storytelling on the back porch. As the years rolled on, those stories simply graduated from sweet tea to crisp wine and pimento cheese.

THE START OF SOMETHING SWEET

Then there's the heartbeat behind our confections. It started with my niece—the girl who made me an aunt and gave me the name "Izzi"—and her childhood love of mini marshmallows stuck on pretzel sticks.

What began as a "Can I make this better?" camping trip experiment quickly turned into a mission to find high-performance whimsy in a confectionery bag.

Then came the caramels—a nod to my family’s lifelong love affair with the chocolate-covered variety, perfected through trial, error, and plenty of laughter. Every single batch we make is an extension of that family table.

Where Doves Coo.

The Estate

And if you listen closely while you’re here, you’ll hear the soundtrack to that table. Our family estate is home to a massive colony of mourning doves, and their constant, gentle cooing throughout the day is the most peaceful sound on earth. It was pure serendipity when they became our mascot. Not only do they represent the ultimate soft landing, but they always, always return home—much like we hope you will, time and time again.

Our philosophy is simple: Grit, Grace, and a little bit of Gossip.

GRIT

The relentless hard work it takes to build a legacy, run an estate, and keep the soil rich. No veneers here.

GRACE

The effortless warmth of being kind, welcoming the stranger, and making sure the door is never locked.

GOSSIP

The storytelling, the shared secrets, and the roaring laughter that keeps us close and makes the nights run long.

Around here, there is always a place at the table - or a rocking chair on the porch - waiting for you. We don't want you to just buy a treat; we want you to pull up a chair.

Our goal is for you to walk away from The Tuesdee House with a full heart, a refreshed spirit, and a little goodie bag to remember your stay.

w/grit, grace & gossip

IZZI