Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Troy Barnes. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.

Hi Troy, thanks for joining us today. How did you come up with the idea for your business?

I still remember the smell of vanilla, lemon, coconut, rum, and butter filling my grandmother Gracie McCluney Barnes’s knotty pine wood lined little kitchen in Kings Mountain, North Carolina. I was eight, maybe nine, standing on a step-stool so I could reach the counter, my hands dusted with flour while she guided me through her legendary five-flavor pound cake. That first crack of eggs into the bowl, the way the batter swirled with five distinct extracts—it wasn’t just baking. It was love, layered and intentional. Those afternoons with her became the heartbeat of every recipe I’d ever touch.
Fast-forward to 2024. I’m grown, still carrying her recipes like heirlooms. One gig night with Rhythm Nation—my band family of over twenty years—I walked in with a plate of fresh-baked cookies, the same soft-center, crisp-edge iGotcha Cookies I’d been perfecting. The room went quiet except for the sound of grown men and women moaning over chocolate chips. “Troy, you’re sitting on a gold mine,” one said, mouth full. Another: “I’d pay double for these.” I’d heard it before from friends and family, but that night, surrounded by family who’d known me since the early 2000s it landed differently.
I left the gig buzzing, drove home under Georgia stars, and sat in my car for about an hour with an empty plate and a full heart brainstorming on how I could turn this thing I love doing into a business. People weren’t just praising flavor—they were tasting memories. In a world of factory-wrapped desserts, nobody was delivering cookies that carried the weight of Sunday dinners, band van rides, and porch talks with Grandma.
The logic locked in:
1. Demand was real—bandmates, church members, coworkers were already sliding me cash “for ingredients” and placing orders weeks out.
2. The edge was emotional—iGotcha Cookies weren’t gourmet gimmicks. They were affection, packaged. Fresh-baked, hand-delivered or mailed with love like all the meals and treats prepared by my biggest influence, my grandmother. The thought of bringing the same joy she brought me to others was the push I needed to step out on faith.

That’s what lit the fire—knowing I could turn a private ritual into a public blessing. I saw pop-up stands at festivals, care packages for college kids, corporate gifts that actually meant something. Most of all, I pictured someone, somewhere, biting into an iGotcha Cookie and remembering their own grandmother’s kitchen. That’s when I knew—this wasn’t just a business. It was legacy, rising.

Troy, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

Hey there, I’m Troy Barnes, born and raised in Kings Mountain, North Carolina, where the air smells like pine and Sunday supper. My friends sometimes call me Chef Troy R B. By day I’m a consumer loan underwriter at Excel FCU in Atlanta, Ga. On the weekends I’m the lead male vocalist for Rhythm Nation, a band I’ve poured 20+ years into, but by heart I’m the guy who turns butter, sugar, and memory into iGotcha Cookies.
How I Got Here
As I stated earlier, it started on a step-stool in my grandmother Gracie McCluney Barnes’s kitchen. She taught me baking wasn’t about perfection; it was about presence. Every scratch-made treat was her way of saying “I see you.” That lesson stuck.
Then fast-forward to 2024: When my bandmates blew my head up about three sizes when they raved about how nostalgic my cookies made them feel and how I should sell them, especially since I’d heard it from family and church folks for years, it clicked: people weren’t just hungry for cookies. They were craving home.
What I Do
iGotcha Cookies is a from-scratch cookie company delivering nostalgia by the dozen. Our core lineup:
• Classic Chocolate Chip (the one that started it all)
• Chocolate Chip, Toffee, and Walnuts topped w/ Flakey Sea Salt
• S’mores
• Seasonal drops (think Sweet Potato Toffee in fall, Blueberry Lemon in Summer)
We bake fresh daily in small batches, package with a handwritten note, hand-deliver locally and hope to ship nationwide in the near future. Think care packages for college kids, corporate gifting that actually gets eaten, pop-ups at festivals, and “just because” tins for someone who needs a hug in edible form.
Problems I Solve
1. Generic gifting fatigue – No more boring gift baskets that were mass produced. An iGotcha Cookies hand prepared package says “I thought about you” louder than words.
2. Mass-produced mediocrity – Grocery-store cookies can’t compete with browned butter and sea-salt finish.
3. Emotional distance – In a digital world, we deliver analog comfort. One bite and you’re eight again, flour on your hands, grandma smiling.
What Sets iGotcha Cookies Apart
• Heritage recipes – Every cookie carries Gracie’s DNA.
• Zero shortcuts – Real butter, cage-free eggs, semi-sweet chocolate, pure extracts.
• Band energy – Rhythm Nation’s 20-year comradery fuels the hustle; we’re family feeding families.
Proudest Moments
Getting my first repeat customer. Knowing that they loved the product so much that not only did to return to buy another dozen but they bought one for a friend. That meant the world to me and offered some validation that I was doing the right thing.
What I Want You to Know
1. This isn’t just cookies. It’s legacy, rising.
2. I still taste-test every batch. If it doesn’t make me close my eyes and sigh, it doesn’t leave the kitchen.
If you’re tired of ordinary, craving comfort, or need a gift that lands like a hug—slide into my DMs @igotchacookies on instagram. Let’s make someone’s day, one crumb at a time.

Can you share one of your favorite marketing or sales stories?

Picture this: It’s 1 a.m., my condo is dead quiet except for the deafening sound of my own voice in my head screaming “you need packaging” that just won’t let me sleep. I’m riding the electric high of launching my cookie business. The website’s not built, the logo’s still in Canva, but the vision? Crystal clear. I’m convinced that packaging will be the secret sauce—something so striking that people pause mid-scroll and think, “I need to know who made these.”
I’m deep in an Amazon rabbit hole, filtering for “elegant gift bags,” when I spot them: matte black craft bags with a shiny wax dipped handle. They scream luxury, like a little black dress for cookies. The product photos show them cradling macarons the size of silver dollars, but in my head? I’m already stuffing in half a dozen of my signature beauties. Click. Add to cart. $35 later I’m back to bed, buzzing like I just closed a Series A.
Fast-forward two days. The box arrives. I rip it open like a kid on Christmas—and freeze. These aren’t bags. These are pouches. The kind you’d use for a single truffle or a pair of earrings. My palm-sized cookies look like they’re wearing scuba gear. I do the math: 75 bags at approx. 46 cents each, and exactly zero of them fit my product. Classic founder tax.
Most people would’ve vented on a Reddit thread and called it a loss. Me? I felt that familiar itch. The itch that my grandmother must’ve felt dozens of times when she didn’t have the right ingredients for a recipe or her oven wasn’t cooking at hot as usual and she had to shift to make it all work out…and it DID. Constraint breeds creativity. So I fired up the oven at 6 a.m., and pulled a couple dozen pre-scooped cookies I’d made the night before from the freezer, and baked my signature chocolate chip, toffee, and walnut cookies topped with flaky sea salt until the kitchen smelled like a hug from my Lord and Savior himself.
By 9 a.m., I’m in the elevator of my office building- in my day-job blazer, but clutching a box of black pouches tied with baker’s twine. Each one holds a single cookie and a note that reads “A treat from me to you” I start on the 12th floor: a pediatric dentist who squeals like she’s 5. Floor 11: a litigation firm. Floor 10: an entertainment agency whose receptionist made sure to grab one for each of her co-workers.
Then I reach the lobby café. The chef, Greg, runs a side hustle selling his cookies—Cinnamon Cookies that could make a grown man frolic through a crowded room. Handing him one of mine feels like sliding a demo tape to Beyoncé. I brace for polite indifference. Instead, he takes a bite, closes his eyes, and says, “This cookie is DELICIOUS? Then tells me I could sell them from the cafe and he wouldn’t even charge me. That $35 “mistake” became the cheapest market research I’ve ever run. Those 24 cookies turned into a standing order for the cafe and exposure to potential clients that I might not have ever been able to reach. The black pouches? Still too small for a full dozen—but perfect for the “VIP single” that brought me lots more business. The adrenaline of that week still hits me like caffeine: the terror of the mis-click, the pivot at dawn, the audacity of walking into a competitor’s kitchen with my A-game in a 3×4-inch bag. It taught me that the best marketing risks aren’t calculated—they’re alchemized from screw-ups, baked at 350°, and served fresh to strangers who become believers.

What’s worked well for you in terms of a source for new clients?

Hands down, word of mouth.
As a new small-business owner, getting your name out there can feel like shouting into a canyon. But the friendships and relationships I’ve built over 44 years—simply by being a decent person and surrounding myself with the same—have become my loudest megaphone. Their belief in me makes them proud to spread the word, and that organic trust has fueled exponential growth in record time

Contact Info:

• Instagram: @igotchacookies @cheftroyrb
• Twitter: @troybarnes1228
• Youtube: @troybarnesvids

Image Credits

Pictures taken by Jocelyn Martin @entertainerjvm on instagram.

The woman in the picture is my grandmother.

The logo was created by Jon Cole and myself.