What is baking, this week
A rotating bake needs a page that changes, and a visitor who knows when it changes.
One baker, one bake, no second tray. A micro-bakery’s website should open with that rather than bury it in an FAQ.

The instinct is to hide scarcity, because it reads as failure. It is the opposite: a bakery that is gone by eleven is a bakery worth getting up for, and the site’s job is to make that sound like the offer it is.
One baker, one bake, no second tray. Rather than hide that, the site opens with it — the home page states outright that the shelves are boards again by eleven, and the reserve page exists because that is the only way to be sure of a loaf.
Salt & Crumb is a fictional business in an invented Suffolk town, built to the same standard as paid work and deployed to its own address. It is set to noindex so it can never compete with a real micro-bakery in search — everything indexable about it lives on this page instead.
A rotating bake needs a page that changes, and a visitor who knows when it changes.
If the only way to be sure of a loaf is to reserve one, the site should say so and then let you do it.
“Half seven until sold out” is a real opening time and should be written as one, not rounded to five o’clock.
Micro-bakeries are usually somewhere unobvious. That is a map problem, not a branding one.
A website built and handed over is quoted as a job, and it is yours — you own the code and the hosting account, and there is nothing to keep paying. If you would rather I looked after it instead, that is a monthly figure with the build rolled in. Either way the number comes after a conversation, not off a page.
Quotes are fixed and in writing before anything starts, and I show you the finished site on a development link before asking for a penny.
Tell me what your business does and how people currently find you. I build it, show it to you finished, and hand you the accounts at the end — you own what you pay for.