Meet
Fermfolk.

Food has always been the thing. Tasting menus, lunch breaks at Borough Market, anywhere someone is genuinely proud of what they make and where it comes from. And in almost every food culture worth exploring, there's something fermented at the heart of it. Something shared.

Think about it. Champagne, natural wine, sourdough, aged cheese, miso, yoghurt. The things we reach for when we want something really good have almost always been fermented. It's not a trend. It's just how food has always worked, and somewhere along the way we forgot that.

In Korea, kimchi has been eaten daily for centuries, often at every single meal. Pots were buried underground through winter to ferment slowly in the cold. Koreans have some of the lowest rates of digestive illness in the world. There has to be a reason.

The moment it all clicked for me was a bowl of Kimchi Jjigae in a Covent Garden basement. It lands in layers, ginger first, then the umami, then a slow heat that sits at the back of your throat and doesn't really leave. Everything I found on the shelves afterwards was muted by comparison. Processed, pasteurised, a shadow of what kimchi is actually supposed to be. I wanted the real thing. So I learned how to make it. And once I started, I couldn't stop — kombucha, krauts, lacto-ferments, anything that could be coaxed into something alive and worth eating.

I spent twenty years in finance, drawn to the detail, the process, figuring out how things work. Fermentation rewards exactly that kind of thinking, but with the freedom to create something entirely your own. I couldn't find a local supplier, so I became one. I swapped London for Stamford and haven't looked back.

Some of my favourite moments have always been at markets, talking to people who have taken a leap, who are genuinely passionate about what they make. I understood that feeling long before I had a jar of my own. Now I do.

Making days are physical. The cabbages are shredded and stomped by hand, the fruit cold-pressed, the paste made from scratch. Every step done properly, the way it should be. That's what you taste in the jar.

I'm so glad you found us. Come and be part of it.

— Hayley

The things
that matter.

Raw & Alive
Every jar and bottle is hand-packed here in Stamford. Raw, unpasteurised, and teeming with active cultures. No shortcuts, no compromises.
Locked in Time
Our ferments change with the seasons. Limited batches tied to a specific moment, a fruit, a week, a mood. When the ingredients are gone, they're gone.
Sourcing
I'm particular about ingredients and where they come from. I source organic wherever it matters and makes sense, but some ingredients are chosen purely for authenticity and quality. If it's the best version of what it needs to be and I trust where it comes from, it goes in the jar.
Keepers, Not Litter
No plastic. Everything comes in chunky, high-quality glass built to last long after the contents are gone. Overnight oats, sourdough starter, whatever you need.
The Fermfolk Loop
Return your clean jars and we'll take 50p off your next ferment. It keeps our footprint small and the cycle going.

Join
The Batch List.

New drops sell out fast. Join The Batch List for first access to seasonal releases, new flavours and a look at what's bubbling next.

No noise. Just the good stuff.