I started a micro-bakery in the US for 2,000

In order to provide my family with quality carbs, I spent several years learning how to make sourdough using a natural wild yeast starter. Over those years, I often gave loaves to friends or brought them along to potluck dinners, where they were always met with high praise.
I remember one Thanksgiving last year when I was invited to dinner at the home of my American farmer friend, Nancy. During the meal, one gentleman couldn’t stop praising my sourdough: “I have to stop myself, otherwise I’ll eat the whole thing in one go!”
This gave me a huge boost in confidence. I spent some time researching the laws in Texas, where I live, and prepared to start my own little bakery.
I. Opening a bakery for under 2,000 yuan
Cottage Food Laws vary from state to state. In California, which is known for its high taxes and strict regulations, a special licence is required to run a food workshop, with different categories of licences depending on the scope of business and the turnover ceiling.
For instance, a Class A licence for direct sales to consumers limits annual turnover to 80,000 US dollars (approximately 565,000 yuan). If one wishes to sell to third parties, such as supermarkets or restaurants, a Class B licence is required, with an annual turnover limit of 160,000 US dollars (approximately 1.131 million yuan).
The most lenient laws are found in Wyoming, a sparsely populated state where cowboy culture thrives. There, homemade food can be sold without a licence, there are no restrictions on third-party retail, and the annual sales limit is as high as 250,000 US dollars (approximately 1.767 million yuan).
The laws in Texas are also relatively lenient and do not require a licence. Baked goods can be sold to consumers as long as they contain no meat products and the packaging lists the ingredients, allergens, and the owner’s home address and contact details. Although there is an annual turnover limit of 60,000 US dollars, this is more than enough for a home bakery.

I then spent over 200 US dollars (approx. 1,414 yuan) on a label printer and sticker paper, and a large stack of brown kraft paper bags to wrap my sourdough. After putting some effort into designing a logo and a menu, my home bakery officially opened for business.
All in all, selling homemade food in the US is not that difficult.
II. Rebuilding the local food system
All my baked goods are naturally leavened. Through a long period of natural fermentation, the active and diverse microbial flora create a rich, mellow flavour, while also reducing the levels of antinutrients and gluten in the flour, making the nutrients easier for the body to absorb and utilise.
I started this bakery with several goals in mind. As a housewife whose primary role is caring for my family, this business provides me with an additional income. As someone who cares deeply about the source and quality of food, my long-term goal is to build a localised organic food exchange system. Operating this organic sourdough bakery to provide high-quality handmade bread to the local community and improve the food environment aligns perfectly with this objective.
Since opening, my bakery has continued to grow its local customer base in the most unexpected ways.

Susan chimed in, “I want some too! Your bread is fantastic. I’ve never liked the bread from the supermarkets, but I could eat yours forever.”
So, from then on, I brought two loaves every time I visited. Whenever it was time to settle the bill, Susan would simply deduct the price of the bread from the cost of the meat, eggs, milk, and vegetables I bought from the farm. This way of trading felt more like primitive bartering, which left me feeling incredibly happy and fulfilled. This kind of equitable food exchange system is exactly what I long for and strive for.
III.“This food has not been inspected by the health department”
“This food was produced in a home kitchen and has not been inspected by the health department.”
The legal requirement for workshop owners to print this disclaimer on their packaging reflects a long-standing tension in the American psyche between food safety and freedom: if we demand absolute safety, food production will become entirely industrialised and assembly-line based; but if we ignore safety in favour of absolute freedom, there will inevitably be those who exploit the loopholes.
Placing this disclaimer on the food label is an art of balance: with this label, both parties are informed and consenting. A de facto contract is formed at the point of purchase, removing the need for regulatory agencies to intervene in free transactions between citizens. If someone is uncomfortable with food that has not been inspected, they can simply turn left and go to a fully licensed supermarket or a large commercial bakery.

Those who produce and prepare the food are workers on the lowest rungs of the capital chain, earning minimum wage; the owners of large food factories are speculators seeking maximum profit by slashing costs. More regulation and more “standardised”, assembly-line food production only increase the entry cost for small-scale producers. Whether from a safety or nutritional perspective, this only leads to worse food.
A few years ago, I saw a news report from China about a farmer in Chongqing who sold home-made steamed pork with rice flour. The local court ordered the farmer to refund all payments and pay ten times the amount in compensation to the buyers. To my surprise, I found that most netizens expressed sympathy for the farmer.
Perhaps more and more people are realising that the food safety issues of modern times are a dilemma brought about by urbanisation and technology.
As consumers, we have drifted further and further from the source of food production. The village and small-community lifestyles that once sustained humanity have exited the stage of history. The people who produce the food do not know the people who consume it, and the consumers feel no need to know who made their food. The distance between us and our food has not created beauty; instead, it has brought about numerous food safety issues.
IV. What kind of food law do we need?
If a bakery cannot start as a micro-bakery but must begin with the standards of a commercial kitchen, it requires the entrepreneur to invest at least tens of thousands of dollars: the kitchen must meet health department requirements for the number of sinks, large commercial ovens must be purchased, and if there is a storefront, infrastructure such as customer toilets and parking spaces must be ensured…
If food laws only permitted the existence of “standardised” large bakeries, it is easy to imagine how difficult it would be for a small business owner with a passion for food to get started.

Joel Salatin, known as the “Father of Organic Farming in America”, wrote a book titled “Everything I Want to Do is Illegal”. As a small-scale organic farmer, Salatin is strongly opposed to government interference in free transactions between citizens.
He asks in his book: “If I want to buy a cake made in my neighbour’s kitchen, and I trust her, why should the government be able to say no? It is legal for me to buy a cheap, assembly-line cake at Walmart, but illegal to buy a fresh cake made with natural ingredients in my neighbour’s kitchen—what kind of world is this?”
America’s Cottage Food Laws reflect more than just a pursuit of food sovereignty; they represent a serious civic political stance: Do community members have the right to be responsible for their own choices and health, accepting a certain amount of risk in exchange for personal rights and freedom? Or must they rely on massive public organisations to regulate everything, tax everything, and control every aspect of life?

Originally, all food in the world was produced without brands, licences, or certifications. Our obsession with “formality” and “standardisation” is actually the result of technological development and the continuous deterioration of our food environment. We always hope to solve problems with more regulation and technology, forgetting that what we often need is to take a step back and reconstruct the food exchange methods of the past:
Where most of people’s food comes from local sources, and the producers and consumers know and trust one another;
Where food is a precious source of nutrition that nourishes the body, rather than a weapon of finance and war;
Where food is not a tool for a few to become wealthy and build public companies, but a way for farmers and small workshop owners to achieve a dignified life through honest labour.
A world without channels for ordinary people to sell home-made food is, in my eyes, a Kafkaesque absurdity akin to “The Trial”. We must not wait until food production is concentrated solely in factory assembly lines before realising it is too late.

Editor: Zen
