From Our Kitchen to Our First Farmers' Market: The Day Calon Stepped Out Into the World

 

There’s a strange few minutes just before you open a market stall for the first time. The products are packed, the labels are on, the table is set, and you stand there thinking: what if nobody stops?

That was me on the morning of 13 September 2026, behind the very first Calon Tempeh stall at Riverside Farmers’ Market in Cardiff. We had spent months making tempeh, testing recipes, fretting over labels and packaging, and wondering whether anyone would actually want to eat what we were making. Now the food was finally out of our kitchen. It was real, and a bit terrifying.

Before the market, there was a lot of "what if?"

The week before was chaotic in the way first times are. Soyabeans to prepare, tempeh to make, crisps to cook and pack, labels to double-check, prices to settle, signs to print. Then came everything you don’t think about until you’re about to stand behind a table: samples, napkins, bags, a card reader, change, a cool box, a banner, and little cards explaining what tempeh is.

That last one was the hardest. I practised different versions. “Tempeh is fermented soyabeans” sounded like a lecture. “It’s a bit like tofu” isn’t really true. “It’s a traditional Indonesian food made from whole fermented soyabeans” was better, but still a mouthful for someone who only wanted to look at the crisps. In the end I decided I didn’t need the perfect explanation. I just needed to invite people to try it.

We brought a little bit of our kitchen with us

We brought fresh tempeh, tempeh crisps in three flavours, and some of our satay sauce and chilli oil. That included around 72 packs of crisps. Was that the right number? I had no idea. It was a guess.

That’s the funny thing about a first market. You can read the reports, study the plant-based food market, build the spreadsheet and try to predict what people will like. Eventually you still have to hold out a sample, ask “Would you like to try some?” and wait for the answer.

Drizzle, a quiet city and a table to arrange

We loaded the car and drove through a very quiet Cardiff, much earlier than I’d normally choose to be thinking about tempeh. When we arrived it was drizzling. We unfolded the table, put up the banner and signs, arranged the crisps, put the fresh tempeh where people could see it and laid out the samples. Then I stepped back, looked at it, moved a few things, looked again, and ran out of things to do.

Waiting was the hardest part. Eventually I said it to someone walking past: “Today is our first day at the market. Would you like to try some of our samples?”

Then someone stopped

One person came over, then another. Someone asked, “What’s tempeh?” and the conversation I’d been rehearsing started for real. We explained, they tasted, they asked something else, and someone new joined in. Somewhere in there the stall stopped feeling like a stall.

We weren’t trying to talk anyone into buying something. We were introducing people to food we enjoy, and that felt completely different.

“I’ve never tried tempeh before.” We heard that a lot, and I loved hearing it. Each time it meant someone was curious enough to stop, even though they didn’t know what it tasted like or how to cook it. That was all we needed.

And then there were the crisps

The crisps made me more nervous than anything else. We’d spent so long on the slicing, the seasoning, the cooking, the texture and the packaging, and now we would find out whether anyone else liked them.

Watching a stranger taste something you’ve made is odd. You know how much work is in it. They just take a bite, and you wait. A few moments I’ll remember: someone smiling after the first crisp, someone asking which flavour they’d just had, someone buying a pack “just to try”, someone buying several. And my favourite question of the day: “Do you have more of this one?” That doesn’t tell you everything, but it tells you something.

A few people were surprised by the texture. One said they tasted like crackers. Others asked which flavour they should try first. Those conversations were useful, but they were also encouraging, because they reminded us why we started. Food doesn’t begin with a spreadsheet. It begins with someone taking a bite.

The sauces nobody planned for

Our satay sauce and chilli oil were almost the supporting characters that day.

I expected the satay sauce and chilli oil to play a supporting role. People kept asking about them. Could they put the sauce on tempeh? Would it go with the crisps? Could you cook with it? Conversations that began with tempeh turned into conversations about how people cook, what flavours they like, what they eat midweek and what they’d like us to make next. People weren’t only buying food. They were handing us ideas.

The kindness of people

The kindness surprised me. Not the polite “good luck with your little business” kind, but real interest. People stopped because they wanted to support a small, independent Welsh producer. Some asked about the story behind Calon or where we make the tempeh. Some told us about foods they’d discovered themselves. Some gave honest feedback, and some simply wished us well.

When you’ve spent months in a small kitchen wondering whether anyone will care, it’s easy to feel like you’re working in a bubble. The market popped it. Real people, real reactions and real questions were standing right in front of us.

What I brought home wasn't just an empty box

By the end of the day, we had sold products.

But I came home with something more useful than a sales figure.

I came home with stories.

Questions.

Ideas.

Things to change.

Things to keep.

And a much clearer understanding of what people actually want to know.

We learned that many people need a simple explanation of tempeh.

We learned that showing people how to cook fresh tempeh matters.

We learned that tasting makes trying something unfamiliar much easier.

We learned that people have different ideas about what a snack should be.

We learned which flavours caught people's attention.

And we learned that there are people in Cardiff—and hopefully beyond—who are genuinely curious about what we're making.

That's a pretty wonderful thing to discover.

But perhaps the biggest thing I learned was this

You can't build a food business entirely from behind a laptop.

You have to get the food out there.

You have to listen.

You have to watch someone take the first bite.

You have to hear:

"I've never tried this before."

And then give them a reason to take that first bite.

Our first farmers' market gave Calon something no amount of planning could give us.

A beginning.

Not a perfect beginning.

Not a finished beginning.

Just a real one.

Questions from the stall

What is tempeh?

A traditional Indonesian food made by fermenting whole cooked soyabeans into a firm block you can slice and cook. It tastes nutty, earthy and savoury. Our beginner's guide to tempeh explains more.

Which flavour of crisps should I try?

We make three: Original, Welsh Salt and Black Pepper. Try one and tell us which you chose. We’re always curious.

Where can I buy Calon Tempeh?

You can order through our website. For market dates, see next market date and location.

From the kitchen to the stall

When I think back to that morning, I keep coming back to one image.

The Calon products sitting on that market table.

Not in our kitchen.

Not on a spreadsheet.

Not as an idea.

Out in the world.

That felt quite special.

Because Calon started small.

It started with experiments in the kitchen.

With batches that worked.

Batches that didn't.

With questions.

With lots of tasting.

With the hope that we could make something good and share it with people here in Wales.

And on 13 September, for the first time, we got to see what happened when that little idea met real people.

We’re still at the very beginning. There will be more markets, more batches, more flavours, and probably a few things we get spectacularly wrong. If you tasted a crisp, asked us a question, bought a block of tempeh, followed us online, told a friend about us, or simply stopped to say hello—you've already become part of the Calon story.

And if you've never tried tempeh before?

Maybe your journey starts here.

From our little kitchen in Wales, this is only the beginning.

Calon.

Protein with a place.