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Sari Arambulo’s 'Cookie, Love' Explores Food, Heritage, and Belonging

  • Writer: Solène Huot
    Solène Huot
  • Jun 4
  • 8 min read

Photography by Rachel Kupfer


Sometimes the stories that stay with us begin in the most unexpected places. For actress, writer, and filmmaker Sari Arambulo, that story began inside a small cookie shop in Paris during the 2023 SAG strike. What started as a period of creative reflection soon became Cookie, Love, a deeply personal documentary that would ultimately earn selection at the Tribeca Festival.


Sari Arambulo sits in a white chair on a patio, turning to look at the camera with a calm expression.

Centered on Taiwanese-American baker Jean Hwang Carrant and her life in Paris, the film explores identity, belonging, cultural connection, and the ways food can bridge worlds that might otherwise seem far apart. But beyond its charming premise, Cookie, Love also marks an important evolution in Arambulo's own creative journey. Known for her work as an actress, she is increasingly carving out a space as a filmmaker drawn to intimate, character-driven stories that examine heritage, home, and the search for connection.


In our conversation, Arambulo reflects on the unexpected path that led to the documentary, the emotional power of food as storytelling, finding inspiration in Paris, and why creating opportunities for yourself can be one of the most rewarding parts of being an artist.



Cookie, Love began during the 2023 SAG strike, when you were working in a cookie shop in Paris. At what point did you realize this experience was becoming something bigger than just a moment in your life, and potentially a film?


Honestly, the moment found me. I had been living in Paris for 3 months during the SAG Strike, partly for a break after acting in a feature in NY, and partly creative reset / writing retreat. I was staging at Jean’s store Cookie Love and working with a French-American family during the day, and writing in the afternoon. I absolutely loved it. While at Cookie Love, I quickly fell in love with Jean’s sunny disposition, wabi sabi approach to her craft, “Frenglish” way of life, and love story with her husband Philippe. 


Before leaving Paris, I had made it a goal to create a short film while I was there. Originally, I thought I’d make a narrative piece, but as my departure got closer, I realized Jean’s life already embodied so many of the themes I’m drawn to in my work: identity, love, authenticity, and belonging. An Asian-American baker, there by way of a love story, making a name for herself with American cookies in the pastry capital of the world?  That felt like a story I had to tell. That’s when I asked if she’d let me make a documentary about her, and thankfully, she said yes.


Your documentary feels deeply personal while also exploring broader themes of identity, authenticity, and belonging. What drew you specifically to Jean Hwang Carrant’s story, and what parts of yourself did you see reflected in her journey?


Sari Arambulo in a shop reads a book behind glass, wearing a striped vest and shorts with a tote bag, shelves of bottles behind her.

Like I said, Jean’s life story and its themes are everything I love to explore in my work – food as a vehicle for self identity, food as culture, food as a way to find belonging, as well as a creative vessel to carve your own path of self expression. As a life long francophile who has lived there for 2 years, I’ve always admired American ex-pats who could make a life in france for the long term, and excel at it. As a Filipina-American woman, I deeply resonated with her Asian American story. I also felt like the moment we met, we were sympatico, from the energy she brings to everything, her consistent optimism, a dedication to her craft, all while being able to find the wabisabi of it all. My time spent with Jean was one of the reasons Paris truly felt like home. Jean and I uphold a lot of her same values, and at the same time – i’m constantly inspired by her. I want to be Jean when I grow up! 


Food is such an emotional centerpiece in Cookie, Love. Why do you think food, even something as deceptively simple as a cookie, can become such a powerful way to talk about culture, memory, and connection?


It’s an easy access point. I think food is one of the quickest ways to access memory, especially deep rooted memories with childhood and nostalgia. Everyone can remember a time from their childhood where they ate a cookie. 


Food is an access point into memory and emotion. Especially when thinking about cookies, I think it’s one of the quickest ways to tap into memories of our childhood, ultimately bringing up feelings of nostalgia and even a sense of home. Everyone can remember a time from their childhood when they ate a cookie, and hopefully fond ones at that. Cookies are typically associated with treating yourself and celebration. 


In Jean’s case, her cookies felt like an extension of herself. They became this beautiful bridge between America and France, between her past and present, and between herself and the community she built around her.


There’s something cinematic about the idea of a Filipina-American finding herself in Paris through a cookie shop. How did the city itself shape the tone and emotional texture of the documentary?


Sari Arambulo in a white embroidered jacket sits by a lit window at night, holding flowers, with city lights glowing behind her.

I love this question! Paris is a place that forces you to slow down and savor the moment. From long walks to sitting at a bar en terrasse, there’s a real reverence for taking the scenic route home. Of course the city has its own bustle, but there’s also a rhythm of slow living that only Paris can offer.


I really wanted the city itself to complement Jean’s cookie shop and emotional world. As such, I leaned into more composed, Wes Anderson-esque wide shots when showcasing the city, portraying Jean’s imagination and the way she views the world around her, almost reflecting her own whimsy and warmth.

In the kitchen, we’re handheld and right there with her in the moment as she creates in real time. But in her home, I wanted to approach things from more of a slice-of-life perspective, where the audience almost feels like they’re quietly peeking into intimate moments of her everyday life, while also capturing the warmth, whimsy, and intentionality that Paris naturally brings out in people.


The story behind Tribeca discovering the film almost organically through the actual bakery feels incredibly full-circle. What was your reaction when you learned the documentary had been selected for the festival?


Yes, it’s honestly such a crazy full-circle story. In February, Jean texted me that someone from the Tribeca Festival had come into the cookie shop to tell her that they had seen the film during pre-selection and really loved it. I couldn’t believe it. And honestly, to me, that was already the win. Getting into the festival almost didn’t even matter at that point. The fact that someone went out of their way to visit her in person because they connected to the film -- that’s all you can ask for really!


Cut to a few weeks later, and I’m hopping on a call with that same person, Ben Thompson, the VP of Shorts Programming at Tribeca, who’s telling me we got in. I truthfully fell to the floor and screamed. (Apologies to Ben's ears on that phone call!)


I made this short documentary on a micro budget, and there was a world where I didn’t even submit it to festivals. So to have the film not only get in, but to have this beautiful connection back to the actual bakery itself, honestly felt surreal, and at the same time, kismet. 


You’ve already built a strong career as an actress through projects like A.P. Bio and Bloody Axe Wound, but filmmaking seems to unlock a different kind of creative control. What has directing and producing taught you about the kinds of stories you truly want to tell?


Sari Arambulo stands in a convenience store aisle between blurred shelves, in front of drink fridges.

That’s what I love about filmmaking. With acting, you’re often waiting by the phone hoping to be chosen. But with filmmaking, you get to make the choices. I think it’s taught me that I have so much more to say than the words I’ve been given. Growing up in the industry as a Filipina-American, I was constantly going out for roles where all the POC actors were lumped together for the same part. Because of that, I feel a strong calling to uplift stories that showcase diversity and representation with specificity and intentionality. I’m most drawn to stories that feel personal, character-driven, and rooted in a unique point of view, often exploring themes of identity, belonging, and friendship.


As someone balancing acting, writing, directing, and producing, do you feel the industry is becoming more open to multi-hyphenate creatives, or are artists today having to create those opportunities for themselves?


I think it’s both. We live in an industry now where you kind of have to do it all. Part of the job is staying top of mind, and by pursuing multiple avenues, you increase those chances.

I think artists today have to create opportunities for themselves rather than waiting around for permission. The most fulfilling projects are often the ones that fuel you personally and creatively, while also helping define your voice and the kinds of stories you want to tell. And it’s through those projects, you’re able to show the industry what you can really do and who you are as an artist.


From Issa Rae, Quinta Brunson, and now Jordan Firstman, they really are the blueprint! I think there’s something really fulfilling about being involved in a project from so many different angles and bringing all parts of yourself into the work.


You’ve spoken about wanting to tell Asian-American stories through universal touchstones, particularly food. Why is that cross between heritage and everyday experience so important to your work?


Because I think it’s through your heritage, that you can make sense of your everyday experience. 


Growing up as a Filipina-American, I often felt stuck in the in-between. I grew up in a predominantly white neighborhood and didn’t always feel like I fit in there. But when I’d go back to the Philippines during the summers to visit distant relatives, I didn’t fully fit in there either.


Sari Arambulo poses at night beneath yellow DIP and 15 MPH road signs, wearing a blue striped shirt and tan shorts.

I remember being at a family gathering in Manila with relatives I could barely communicate with since I didn’t speak Tagalog. Until… we got to the food. Through shared dishes, smiles, and gestures, I suddenly felt connected in a way that didn’t require words.


For me, food became a touchstone for connection and belonging.


Cookie, Love was filmed across Paris, Los Angeles, and New York. What did navigating an international, self-funded production teach you - not just creatively, but personally?


Oooh… honestly, the experience taught me the power of adaptability – staying open-minded, constantly ready to pivot, and trusting your collaborators.


I was lucky to already have talented collaborators and friends in Los Angeles and New York, but the Paris portion was definitely the biggest challenge. I honestly lucked out finding my DP and producer, Anthony, who is half French and half American and helped me navigate all the production logistics in a completely different language. (We actually met on a spontaneous Bumble date and hit it off as friends and filmmakers! Which honestly feels very fitting for a short film about cookies and love.)


Closed mouths don’t get fed. A lot of this film only came together because I was willing to talk about the project, ask for help, and trust the people around me. For example, at the time I had recently reconnected with my food content creator friend Jeremy Jacobowitz who was looking for projects to executive produce, so when this idea came to me, I immediately made a pitch deck and reached out to him. 


And lastly, I learned the importance of trusting my intuition. I genuinely think if I had made or submitted this short even slightly earlier or later, we may not be here today. It’s almost comforting to know that somehow, life will bring you exactly right where you need to be. All you have to do is listen. 


This documentary feels like the beginning of a larger artistic chapter for you. As you look ahead, what kinds of stories, worlds, or communities are calling to you most as a filmmaker?


Yes! I hope this moment can be a sort of launching pad, and I’m excited to see where life will lead me creatively after this experience.


I’m always drawn to character-driven stories that explore themes of identity, home, and belonging through cultural touchstones like food, music, and art – all through unique perspectives that subvert expectations. For instance, I have a pilot set during the French Belle Époque with an all Asian-American cast. 


Sari Arambulo in a white shirt sits on a chair in a lush rooftop garden patio, with a wooden table and lattice backdrop.

I have my feature film FAMILY STYLE, a love letter to food and my Filipino culture, that won the Hyde Park x Warner Music Group Asian Women Fellowship and went through the Film Independent Screenwriting Lab that I’m hoping to make soon. I also have a pilot with my collaborator Eddie Leavy centered on transracial adoptees that we’ve been pitching around. Looking ahead, I’m currently writing my next feature about the concept of being a different version of yourself in different places. 


And of course, the actor in me is always thinking of which characters to play in these stories too.

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