The market is the part people see.

The prep behind it usually starts days earlier.

Long before the table is set up, before everything is labeled and packaged, and before the first loaf is sold, there have already been days of feeding starter, mixing dough, shaping loaves, setting alarms, reheating ovens, and trying to find counter space in a kitchen that slowly gets taken over by flour and bannetons.

🌾 Market prep starts early

The Wednesday before market, my alarm goes off and my feet hit the floor by 5am.

I head downstairs and start with the most important part of the whole process:

Coffee.

While it brews, I feed my starter enough for the artisan breads I’ll be mixing later that night—more than 50 full-size loaves and 21 mini loaves for bread flights.

At that point, the kitchen still feels calm.

That doesn’t last long.

After work, dinner, and whatever else life needs from me that day, I head back downstairs and start mixing dough for the market breads.

Somewhere in between stretch and folds, I feed my starter again—this time just enough to keep it going until morning.

Most nights, this part of the process stretches pretty late.

The house is quiet, everyone else is asleep, and I’m still downstairs in the kitchen listening to some murder mystery on Audible while happily mixing and stretching dough.

A few hours later, Thursday starts the same way.

Another early alarm. Feet on the floor. Coffee first.

This time, I’m feeding the starter for focaccia night while shaping all of the artisan doughs before they head into the fridge for their long cold proof.

Later that day, the kitchen starts filling up again with granola spread across sheet pans and baking in batches.

Once the granola comes out and starts cooling, I move straight into focaccia dough—usually enough for at least 24, sometimes closer to 32 focaccias for market.

And from there, the pace just keeps building.

It’s a lot sometimes.

But I schedule things this way very intentionally, because freshness matters to me.

I want the bread people bring home from market to be as fresh as possible, which means almost everything on my table was baked within the 24 hours leading up to market.

The late nights and early mornings are worth it to me if it means someone gets to take home bread that was just pulled from the oven hours earlier.

🍞 Organized chaos

By the third day, the real fun begins.

It’s bake day and the final big prep day before market.

By this point, I’m usually feeling the stress a little. Maybe even a little panic.

There are still dozens of loaves to bake, focaccia to prep, packaging to finish, labels to stick on, and somehow enough counter space still needs to exist for all of it.

At some point during market prep, my kitchen usually turns into organized chaos.

I’ll be mixing one dough while shaping another between stretch and folds, all while trying to keep track of what’s baking in the oven so I can rotate in the next round from cold proofing.

Timers are going off. Bannetons are taking over every available surface. There’s flour on things that definitely shouldn’t have flour on them.

And somehow, it all works.

Most of my artisan breads spend about 24 hours in a cold proof before baking, which helps develop flavor and texture over time.

The focaccia follows a little bit of a different rhythm.

Instead of a long cold proof, I usually let it ferment longer at room temperature before it ever makes it into the pans.

And somewhere in the middle of all of that, plans still sometimes change.

Before one market, I randomly turned part of my cinnamon roll focaccia lineup into a rocky road version instead.

It ended up being the first thing to sell out.

Honestly, moments like that are some of my favorite parts of this whole process.

🧺 Slowly filling the kitchen

By the time market weekend arrives, my kitchen is usually overflowing with bread, focaccia, granola, pretzel bites, pancake mixes, labels, packaging, and cooling racks balanced wherever I can make space for them.

A typical market week usually means:

• around 50 artisan loaves

• 7 bread flight boxes with 3 mini loaves each

• 24–36 focaccias

• 10 pancake mixes

• 10 bags of granola

• and a couple dozen bags of pretzel bites

All coming together in a home kitchen over the course of a few days.

Sometimes when I step back and look around, it’s honestly a little surreal.

💛 The best part

As exhausting as market prep can be sometimes, the best part is still the market itself.

Seeing familiar faces walk up to the table.

Hearing how someone used the loaf they picked up last time.

Watching people come back for a favorite flavor or get excited about something new.

I especially love hearing people’s sourdough adventures (or misadventures). Whether something turned out beautifully or completely flopped, I love swapping stories, sharing tips for next time, and sometimes even walking away inspired to try something new myself.

And if I’m lucky, I might be the only sourdough vendor there that day.

But sometimes I’m not.

When that happens, I don’t really see the other bakers as competition. I usually try to stop by their booth, wish them luck, and support them too—especially if they make something I don’t.

Like cinnamon rolls.

Because honestly?

I hate making cinnamon rolls.

People ask me all the time how I manage it all. How I bake this much while also working full time.

And honestly, sometimes I ask myself the same thing somewhere around midnight while I’m covered in flour and trying to remember if I already set the timer for the next round of bread.

But the truth is, I love this.

I love the process. I love the creativity. I love watching ideas turn into something people get excited to come back for.

And more than anything, I love watching the table slowly empty throughout the day knowing the bread I made is going home with people to be shared around dinner tables, served with soup, toasted the next morning, or brought to family gatherings.

That part never gets old.

And somehow, after all the late nights, timers, flour-covered counters, and early morning alarms, it still feels worth it every single time.