I lost my spark in a bakery kitchen and I found it at the farmer’s market
When I opened my brick-and-mortar bakery, I was all in.
It felt like the dream I’d worked toward for years had finally arrived. But somewhere between the nonstop hours, the harsh lighting, and the relentless pressure, I lost something. The spark that got me here started to fade. I found myself running on autopilot, going through the motions, and even wondering if I needed a new career entirely. But when I shifted to a home bakery and started selling at farmers markets, everything changed. The joy, the creativity, the connection — it all came rushing back in ways I didn’t expect.
At the retail bakery, I spent most of my time behind closed doors — managing staff, juggling vendors, baking for hours — but rarely getting to see the people I was baking for (especially those in the food allergy community I care so much about). At the market, that barrier disappeared. I talk to customers face-to-face. I get to know them, hear their stories, and see their reactions. I also found a group of fellow small business owners who became more than just neighbors in a booth — they became part of my community.
I used to think success meant staying behind the scenes and hoping the love I poured into my work made it across the counter. But I didn’t realize how isolating that world had become until I stepped out of it. Moving from a traditional storefront to farmers markets felt risky, but what I found was something I didn’t even know I was missing: connection. Real, joyful, energizing connection — with customers, with other makers, and with the work itself.
The Shift from Walls to Open Air
Brick and mortar means you're indoors, usually alone or managing a rotating crew of staff, and constantly problem-solving. It’s nonstop motion without much interaction beyond the occasional counter conversation. At a market? People talk to you. They ask questions, tell stories, and often share why they’re looking for allergen-free or gluten-free foods — something deeply personal and validating to hear when that’s exactly what I bake for. Suddenly, my work felt more connected to the people it was helping.
Market Buddies & Vendor Friendships
Markets aren’t just about customers — they’re about your neighbors. Over time, I got to know the sourdough baker next to me, the farmers selling fresh vegetables, and the coffee vendors across the aisle. And without even planning it, we started looking out for each other. If someone needs a bathroom break, a snack, or a sanity-saving iced coffee, someone else steps in to help. You don’t get that in a closed kitchen with just your oven and your to-do list for company.
These friendships remind me I’m not alone in the hustle. And do you know how hard it is to make new friends after a certain age? Those of us showing up each week — selling with heart and trying to turn our markets into tiny communities — are also finding friendships along the way. Did I expect my favorite market buddy to be a sourdough vendor covered in wheat flour and selling bread I’ll never be able to eat? Not in a million years. But here we are, selling from each other’s booths while one is running across the aisle to grab tomatoes before they’re gone.
Becoming a Customer Again
One of the surprising joys of market life? I get to be a shopper again. Instead of just being a vendor, I’m discovering things I actually want. No more click-and-ship Amazon moments out of urgency — I find beautiful, handmade, intentional products right in front of me. Locally grown produce, allergy-friendly snacks and spices, and small businesses that make me genuinely excited. It’s inspiring to be surrounded by other creators who are just as passionate as I am. It’s sparked new recipes, new ideas, and a new kind of energy I didn’t even know I was missing.
Redefining Success
Stepping away from a brick-and-mortar bakery didn’t mean stepping away from success. It just meant redefining it. Now I can breathe between markets, take care of myself, reconnect with people I love, and still do the work that fills me up. And in the process, I’ve found something far more valuable than I expected: a real, supportive, living community that shows up week after week — just like I do.
