Chapter 11: Did You Miss Us? (We Missed You)

Serving Up Big Change

It’s been a minute. (Okay, it’s been almost a month—but who’s counting? Us. We were.)

We’ve been meaning to write. Really. But the last few weeks have been one big transition. Life has been changing—fast, fully, and in that slightly dizzying way where you kind of forget how to form sentences but somehow still manage to be understood (and make savory oatmeal at the same time). Before we jump in, do grab yourself some coffee. This will be a long catch-up...

Both Feet In, No Turning Back

In short, here’s what’s been happening. Gamsa’s co-founder & CEO, Sarah, graduated from business school!!! Our other co-founder & COO, Ruby, officially left her full-time job (you may not have seen her here before, but you definitely know her pretty well if you’ve read any of our previous editions of The Persimmon Diaries). We’re both now fully focused on Gamsa. And we’re excited. Tired. Hopeful. Probably mildly dehydrated. Oh yeah, and a bit scared too. But like…the good kind of scared.

This is a milestone we’ve been working toward for so long. It took us a while to understand how much we wanted Gamsa to exist and just how much we were willing to do for that to happen. Turns out, it's basically everything. 

Gamsa has always been a labor of appreciation, gratitude, and love—but up until now, it was also a balancing act. Operating in multiple worlds made everything, including us, feel split. We showed up the best we could, but we were also running on borrowed energy (and many other feelings). You can’t give something your whole heart if your heart is already divided.

So now that we’re finally here—wholeheartedly, full-time, for real—it kind of feels like stepping out of fog and into bright Daylight (cue Taylor Swift). Squinting a bit. Maybe crying a little. And definitely sweating.

And yes, we’re thrilled. But we’re also human. There’s been plenty of that nervous “oh wow we really did this, now we have to make it work” energy. You know the one. We’re building this thing with intention, and it means the stakes are higher than ever. But it also means we finally get to go all in.

The Hand-Scooped Era

If you’ve been following our journey, you know we’ve been producing our savory oatmeal by hand in a commercial kitchen. And when we say “by hand,” we mean: hand-measuring puffed rice and green onion flakes down to the gram, scooping tamari paste like it’s gold, and averaging about 150 packs per session if we’re really in the zone. We were basically the assembly line, the quality control team, and the janitorial staff. All in one.

And while we’re proud of that short scrappy chapter, it had its limits. Every time someone tried to order more than one box, we squealed “yay” and then internally panicked because we were low on oatmeal pouches and time. We realized we were standing in the way of our own growth. And weren't able to explore our full potential (we often had to cap orders).

Enter: The Great Co-packer Dating Show

Finding a co-packer is one of the hardest (and most crucial) parts of building a CPG brand. They need to be reliable, collaborative, and willing to grow with you. Most require massive minimums, months-long lead times, and a proven track record. At the time, we had… none of that. Just a great product, a few spreadsheets, and big dreams.

That’s when we found AFIC (Arkansas Food Innovation Center)—and it felt like a Goldilocks moment. Not too big. Not too small. Just right.

They weren’t a traditional co-packer. They were in a growth phase, still building capacity—just like us. But here’s the thing: their location aligned with our long-term vision (hello, central U.S. distribution, someday Walmart dreams, and direct farmer relationships), and they believed in our product from the start. It wasn’t just a contract. It was a strategic partnership—a bet on each other’s potential.

They let us run small batches. They helped troubleshoot clumping issues (shoutout to tamari caking) with a natural solution: rice protein that fixed the problem without additives or flavor loss.

Were there risks? Absolutely. We were the first contracted brand in their new facility, and they were still learning. But so were we. And that kind of mutual leap is what Gamsa has always been about. 

Still Writing Our Story

As we look ahead—Fancy Food Show, wholesale expansion—we’re also trying to stay grounded in what started all of this: making something meaningful, rooted in culture and care, and connecting with others along the way.

We hope these diary entries help us keep that promise. To reflect. To remember how far we’ve come. To remind you (and ourselves) that doing hard things is…well, hard. But beautiful too. Thank you for being with us. Even when we disappear for a bit into our neverending spreadsheets. Even when we’re figuring things out in real time. More soon. 

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind that’s been full of change, growth, and a lot of reflection. I graduated from business school, transitioned into working on Gamsa full-time, and began preparing for what’s next for us. In the midst of the chaos, I also celebrated a personal milestone: becoming the first in my family to earn a master’s degree!

But given our current reality, I wanted to stop and say that moment didn’t happen in a vacuum. I’m the daughter of Korean immigrants. My dad immigrated at 16; my mom in her early 20s. They came to this country with little more than hope. Hope for opportunity, stability, and a better future. I was born here, but I grew up watching them work tirelessly, navigating language barriers, working overtime, and the constant weight of uncertainty. Just so I could have the chance to dream beyond survival.

Gamsa is not just a business. It’s the result of their sacrifices and strength. It’s rooted in meals shared between shifts, in stories told over food, in culture preserved quietly but fiercely. And it’s a reflection of so many immigrant stories- of resilience, care, and quiet courage.

So much of what we love about food in this country- your go-to Korean BBQ joint, the neighborhood taqueria, the pho spot tucked next to the laundromat- is built and sustained by immigrants. Even the produce you have in your fridge is often grown, picked, and packed by immigrant hands. Immigrants aren’t just part of the American story. They are the backbone of it.

Gamsa would not exist without immigrants. The flavors we share, the memories we honor, and the very soul of what we’re building are shaped by the immigrant experience. It’s in every grain of oats, every recipe passed down by hand, every bowl meant to nourish.

This isn’t about politics. It’s about empathy. About honoring the hands that feed us, the voices that are too often silenced, the dreams that cross oceans and generations.

As we keep building, I carry my parents’ story and the stories of so many others (as does the rest of our team). Gamsa is my love letter to them and my promise that their sacrifices won’t go unseen.