We may earn a commission if you buy something from any affiliate links on our site.
It’s not even 2 p.m. in Hatboro, Pennsylvania, on the day before Election Day, and Lochel’s Bakery is all sold out of Trump cookies. “We’re out for today,” owner Kathleen Romano Lochel calls to the crowd of people—mostly women, almost all white—who have been lining up outside the cozy, teal-painted bakery since well before its 6 a.m. opening time.
Lochel’s has been a local favorite ever since it opened its Hatboro location in 1984 and is best known for its elaborate, multitiered wedding and confirmation cakes. This level of attention, though, is something nobody—least of all its owners—could have predicted. Customers are driving in from New Jersey, Virginia, Delaware, and beyond; orders are coming in from all over the country; members of the press, including a pair of Russian TV reporters from Moscow, circle the line hungrily.
The reason for Lochel’s sudden celebrity? The cookies. In 2008, the Lochel family, who has owned the bakery for three generations, experimented with selling sugar cookies iced with the names of Barack Obama and John McCain, inviting customers to buy their preferred candidate’s cookie and tallying up the results. The winner was Obama, and two months later, he was sworn in as president. The same thing happened in 2012, and soon Lochel’s “cookie count” became as accurate a bellwether as any for the results of the presidential election. (More so than some polls, even; when national polling had Hillary Clinton leading in 2016, Lochel’s cookie count correctly pointed to Donald Trump.)
The notion of an iced, liberally sprinkled cookie predicting the results of an American election might sound bizarre, but as in all things, context matters. Lochel’s is in Montgomery County, a region just 30 minutes from Philadelphia that has traditionally skewed blue. The county, though, sits squarely in Pennsylvania, a state whose battleground status cannot be overestimated; just a few hours north lies Luzerne County, whose 2016 swing toward Trump was the subject of a 2018 book.
Superstition and sugar aside, there’s plenty to be learned from the people lined up outside Lochel’s just 24 hours before the polls open in Pennsylvania. “If I were to put on social media that I support Trump, I feel I would lose friends,” says Megan, 32, who lives just 15 minutes from Lochel’s. “I’m not embarrassed, but I’m not going to make myself a target; I’m more of the silent majority.”
Laurie and Zoe—a mother-daughter pair who made the trek to Lochel’s from West Caldwell, New Jersey, for a dozen Trump cookies—are similarly disinclined to publicly admit who they’re voting for. “It’s hard to bring it up at school because everyone disagrees,” says Zoe, an 18-year-old senior in high school. “It’s so stressful, with everybody fighting, and it feels nice to be able to drive here and do something fun,” agrees Laurie, 53. Tracey, 47, a local mother of two girls aged 10 and 13, fist-pounds another Trump voter in line, explaining, “I watched the Amy Coney Barrett confirmation with my daughters, and I’ve never been more impressed. She’s a mom, she has a family, and she shows my kids that they can grow up to be anything.”
Megan, Laurie, Zoe, and Tracey are anything but anomalous; on the chilly Monday before the election, nearly everyone in the Lochel’s line is there for Trump cookies. This could partially be a function of Eric Trump’s recent visit or the bakery’s coverage on Fox News, but it also speaks to something more crucial about the way white women voters—53% of whom voted for Trump in 2016—are covertly engaging with the political process.
While polls currently show Joe Biden leading in Pennsylvania, Trump has a solid lead in the Lochel’s count. Is it a random function of chance and good marketing? Or are suburban white women willing to be more honest about their votes in a block-long line for cookies than they are in the polls or even on social media?
Despite Trump’s current lead in the cookie count, Kathleen and her husband, Rob, are staunchly committed to making sure they and their 25 employees remain impartial. “I try to keep my own personal beliefs and politics out of the bakery,” says Kathleen. Without endorsing either candidate, though, she admits that seeing Eric Trump in her bakery was exciting. “I left an open invitation on our social media that I’d welcome both candidates or families or any local politician from either side, and [Eric Trump] is the only one that came,” says Kathleen. “We haven’t heard anything from even a local senator or congressman on the Democratic side.”
Keeping a small business open during a pandemic—even one that is technically classified essential—has been significantly draining on the Romano Lochels. They have three children, the oldest of whom is a 16-year-old basketball star, and between distance learning, day-to-day bakery operations, and navigating a confusing list of edicts from Pennsylvania governor Tom Wolf about food-service regulations, the couple is, as Kathleen puts it, “just trying to hold it together.”
They’re grateful for the business that the cookie count has drawn to Lochel’s, but media attention brings its own responsibilities. Kathleen now spends much of her time navigating press appearances, while Rob mainly oversees the bakery’s technical work. That’s not to say there aren’t perks, of course: “Someone from Simi Valley, California, needed 12 Trump cookies shipped and tipped us a thousand dollars,” recalls Kathleen. “I bought lunch for everyone for a week.”
Electoral politics aside, Kathleen is optimistic about the conversations she’s seeing take place in her bakery around the cookie count, not just between Trump voters but among customers of all viewpoints. “There’s a really ugly side to politics, and I like to think we put a sweet twist on it,” says Kathleen.
While Trump certainly commanded a lead in Monday’s sales at Lochel’s, he wasn’t the only candidate with support on the ground at the bakery. Christina, 35, drove 40 minutes to Lochel’s from New Jersey when she saw a Fox News story about Trump’s lead in the cookie count. “I said, ‘Hey, why not support Joe and also support local businesses?’” says Christina, who is one of the few Black women I see in the Lochel’s line on Monday.
When I note that Christina is one of the first customers I’ve spoken to who has purchased a Biden cookie, her response is immediate: “Yeah, we’re out here! We’re probably on keto diets.... I’m not supposed to be eating cookies, but I’m breaking my diet to support him.”
Photo assistant: Yoav Friedländer
Special thanks: Lochel’s Bakery and Hilton Garden Inn Wilkes Barre