Every trail mix ends the same way: the bottom of the bag, and the pieces nobody wanted. Ours was raisins and those chalky yogurt chips. Our friend's was the almonds. She only ever wanted the chocolate. Same bag. Opposite leftovers.
That's the whole thing, really. One man's snack trash is another man's treasure. So why is anyone deciding what goes in the bag except the person eating it?
We did the obvious thing. Bought a lot of scales. Filled a wall with jars. Wrote down the numbers for every single ingredient we could get our hands on. Then we handed you the scoop.
The name came last. Every good jar we made was a remix of one we'd already loved, with the boring parts swapped out. Turns out that's how everyone builds. So that's the button.
— the bench at Crunch Club