Orange marmalade (her grandmother's)
Bitter Sicilian oranges, slow-cooked the same way since 1986. Six 230 g jars per batch. No pectin, no preservatives.
Somewhere in Zürich, your neighbour is making something extraordinary. A jam from a recipe nobody else has. A biscuit that tastes like another country. Pre-order before they cook — only when enough of you say yes.
Bitter Sicilian oranges, slow-cooked the same way since 1986. Six 230 g jars per batch. No pectin, no preservatives.
A recipe she carried with her from Aleppo. Sesame, date syrup, no refined sugar. Made one Friday a month.
Three-day fermentation, candied citron, hand-laminated. One batch per producer per week — limited by the kitchen, not the demand.
These are previews of the kind of batches you will see when we go live in May. The real ones will look identical — same names, same neighbourhoods, same five-people threshold. Join the first circle →
Her recipe. Her story. Her price. A pickup date she picks. Most batches need just five people to say yes.
Min · 5 neighboursYou pay in advance. You are only charged if the batch happens. If five people don't sign up, every Franken comes back. Always.
Always · Full refundPickup near the producer's home, at a time you agree together. Ten minutes. You meet the person who made your food. That is not a limitation. That is the point.
~10 min · Near youIf a batch doesn't reach five neighbours, every Franken returns to you. No conditions, no fine print, no "credit on your next order".
Every listing names every ingredient and every allergen. If a recipe contains nuts, gluten, or dairy, you see it before you commit. Swiss food-safety law applies.
No anonymous accounts. Every baker has a verified address in Zürich, a real first name, and a kitchen you can see before you say yes.
We are applying to the Innovation Sandbox of the Canton of Zürich. The legal frame for home-baker platforms is being written with us in the room — not around us.
Every Sunday, I bake my grandmother's recipes. She is no longer here — but on Sundays, when my kitchen smells of citrus and warmth, somehow she still is.
I live alone in Zürich. I had no one to cook for. And I was not the only one.
I am not a tech founder pretending to love food. I am a baker who learned to build platforms because the platform I needed didn't exist.
Swiss adults bake more than they can eat.
Most of it, alone. Most of it, without anyone waiting.
Most of us are quietly both. Pick the door that fits today.
Fifty makers. Five hundred neighbours. One quiet test. The first batches start in May 2026.