The Product Experimentation Phase: When I Tried to Bake for Everyone
In the first few months of The Sour Crumb, I was trying to bake for everyone.
Someone asked for scones? I'd test a scone recipe. Sweet breads? Sure. Pop tarts? Why not. Cookie flavors I'd never made before? I'd figure it out.
I thought that's what I needed to do. Offer variety. Say yes. Be flexible. Give people what they wanted so they'd pick me.
But I was always testing. Always learning something new. Always worrying: Is this my best? Do I really understand this recipe? What if they ask for something different next time?
And eventually, I got requests for things I knew I didn't want to make. But I felt bad saying no.
What I Was Offering
In those early months, my menu was all over the place.
Scones. Sweet breads. Cinnamon rolls. Muffins. Bundt cakes. Pop tarts. A rotating lineup of cookie flavors.
I was avoiding marketing bread at first because I was trying not to compete directly with another baker in my area. So I leaned into sweet treats and variety instead.
But the more I offered, the more scattered I felt.
I was tracking ingredients for a dozen different products. Testing recipes constantly. Trying to be good at everything instead of great at a few things.
And I didn't feel confident. Because I was always making something I was still learning.
The Problem With Trying to Please Everyone
I knew consistency mattered. I knew doing a few things well builds trust better than doing many things okay.
But I was stuck in fear.
I need customers to grow. I need people to talk about me. And I can't get customers if I keep saying no.
That fear felt very real to a new baker trying to build something. Even though, looking back, it wasn't a real problem — it was just fear.
So I kept saying yes. To requests I shouldn't have taken. To products I didn't enjoy making. To things that spread me too thin.
I was so focused on not losing potential customers that I wasn't building the kind of trust that brings them back.
And eventually, I started getting requests for things I knew I didn't want to make. Things that didn't align with my values or my menu or my capacity.
And I still felt guilty saying no.
The First Cut
Some things didn't survive the first year of our bakery. But by the middle of year two, I realized I needed to simplify even more.
I cut down to things I knew I did well. Things I actually enjoyed making. Things I could bake confidently without second-guessing myself.
That helped. But it was still too many things.
So by the end of year two, I made another decision: I'd focus on a core menu. The products my customers asked for on repeat. The things I loved making most.
How It Felt
I won't lie. It felt a little guilty at first.
What if people wanted the scones? What if someone missed the bundt cakes? What if limiting my menu meant losing customers?
But I'd been reading. Growing as a business owner. Listening to podcasts. Learning from local mentors. Reading books about sustainable business models.
And everything I was learning told me the same thing: focus builds success. Trying to do everything burns you out.
I had the confidence that this was the right decision. Not because I figured it out on my own, but because people who'd built successful businesses were telling me: simplify. Do fewer things better.
There was relief too. Relief that I didn't have to keep testing new recipes every week. Relief that I could focus on perfecting what I already made instead of chasing variety.
What My Menu Is Now
Now my menu is the things I love making most.
Breads that my customers rave about. Cookies that sell out faster than I can make them. A few select pantry goods that I wanted better versions of for my family — and my community enjoys them too.
That's it. No more experimenting to please everyone. No more saying yes to requests that don't fit.
Just the core products I'm confident in. The ones I know are my best.
What I Learned
You can't build a sustainable business by trying to be everything to everyone.
You build it by being really good at a few things. By saying no to what doesn't fit. By trusting that the right customers will come back for what you do best, not because you offer the most options.
I feel like I spent a lot of time in that experimentation phase. But I learned what I didn't want to make. What didn't work. What drained me instead of energizing me.
And now I know: a focused menu isn't limiting. It's freeing.
It lets me be great at what I do instead of mediocre at everything.
Have you ever simplified your work or life by cutting out what didn't serve you?
— Courtenay 💙
