Psychology of a sample

People say I'm generous with our samples.

Some laugh and tell me, "You got me with those samples."

And every now and then, I catch myself wondering — does asking people to sample feel pushy?

Because sampling is work. And it's expensive.

Have I thought about why we sample so much when other vendors don't? Yes. I think about it a lot.

It's market psychology. Sampling psychology.

Sometimes I'll even stand back and watch the samplers at Costco — how they offer, how people respond, who says yes, who walks past. And I think about my own approach.

And then it clicked for me.

I don't really sample to sell.

I mean — of course I do. This is business.

But more than that, I sample to give context.

Context for what Indian food can be.

Because for many people, it still sits in the "unknown" category. Too spicy. Too heavy. Too unfamiliar.

So I ask questions. I listen. I make a quick judgment about where you might be in your food comfort or exploration.

And then I meet you there.

Maybe it's yogurt first. Maybe chutney with butter chicken. Maybe something mild before something bold.

Slowly — without scaring you off — I bring you a little closer to Indian food.

And sometimes… I'm wrong.

When I'm off in my judgment, I catch myself smiling.

It reminds me how stereotyping works — how efficient it can feel in the moment, and yet how nuanced people really are… and how often we get it wrong when we rely on it too heavily.

It's a quiet check on myself to stay careful. To stay open.

Because with each person I sample with, I learn more and more about human behavior.

That part fascinates me.

And it's what helps us grow — not just sales, but love. Love for Indian food. Love for what we're building as a brand.

Saturday mornings under the bridge are where that exchange happens over and over again.

So when I ask, "Would you like to try something?" it isn't pressure.

It's an invitation into context.

And every yes helps us grow — in understanding, in connection, in reach.

One bite. One conversation. One Saturday at a time.

— Punita