Movies love to portray the bruiser with a soft center.
A tattooed tough guy, who at first may look rebellious and intimidating, but actually has a passion for being in the kitchen, creating tasty baked goods.
That’s the reality of Casey Vanderhoef.
Prior to his incarceration, Vanderhoef spent 18 years in the restaurant industry. While serving time in prison, he took culinary and business programs to better learn his craft and started tinkering with the idea of opening a doughnut shop.
But when he was released to a halfway house in Ogden, there was no fryer to cook his dough.
So he used his dough to make cinnamon rolls.
“I just fell in love with the process,” he said, making cinnamon rolls almost daily for six months for the guys at the halfway house.
“In prison, the thing I connected with is just wanting to make people’s days and lives better through food, and there hasn’t been a time in my life where I haven’t been happy eating a cinnamon roll.”
Rising from the ashes
The most special aspect of his business, he’d say, is that it allows him and those he employs the opportunity of a second chance.
Vanderhoef explained how difficult it can be for people with felony backgrounds to find meaningful work — or work at all — after serving time.
“Sometimes, as someone with a felonious background, we end up waiting in the back of a lot of lines for things like employment, housing,” he said. In interviews, they’ll say “we love you, we just don’t love your background, you know, which is fair and understandable. … So one thing that’s nice about being a startup is that we just get to skip the line, we just start working.”
While developing his recipe, he secured his first wholesale opportunity with Beehive Meals. When he presented his rolls, the wholesaler asked if the dough could be frozen and cooked later.
From that interview emerged Rize Sweet Rolls, a name Vanderhoef drew from the image of a phoenix rising from the ashes, reflecting both his personal journey and the mission behind the business.
His goal with his company is simple: he wants customers’ homes to smell like his kitchen when they bake his cinnamon rolls.
He agreed to produce 5,300 cinnamon rolls for Beehive Meals despite never having made anything close to that volume. At the time he had only produced about 60 rolls in one go.
Initially, it took him and his two employees four days to make 1,000 cinnamon rolls the first week. They were able to cut it down to 1,000 cinnamon rolls in three days the next week.
With the help of his wife and a significant quantity of energy drinks, they were able to produce the 5,300 requirement, making 900 cinnamon rolls in 14 hours on their last day.
The contract provided the capital to rent a public kitchen where he and his team now operates. They have since added two local grocers to their clientele.
As he continues to grow his business, Vanderhoef said there are still struggles with reentry after serving time, and that adjusting to freedom can be unexpectedly difficult.
“Part of the challenge of reentry is I hadn’t had a lot of time to be alone with myself,” he said. “That’s terrifying sometimes, and so obviously building community with the people that I met in prison has been a big resource.”
“There’s some days too, where I’ll stand here, and just have that moment of, man, it’s so great not to be in prison.”
For people in similar situations, he wants them to know there’s a path after prison.
“You don’t have to wait in anybody else’s long line. … If you have an idea, just go do it. And it’s messy, it’s hard, but it’s possible.”
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