Last week, my Consumer Behavior students at Saint Joseph’s University had the pleasure of hearing from Monica Corbett, Senior Director of Consumer Insights at Stonewall Kitchen. Monica is a fellow Campbell Soup alum—though we never worked directly together, we’ve long shared mutual respect and many mutual connections. Her career has been deeply rooted in understanding consumers, so she was the perfect guest for this class.
As part of her visit, we explored the jam and jelly aisle—yes, the simple but surprisingly telling category of spreads. The students had visited local grocery stores and analyzed how the shelves were organized, creating their own “consumer decision trees” to explain how shoppers might make choices: by flavor, brand, price, or occasion.
They were thoughtful, curious, and full of ideas—questioning packaging, placement, and even how Stonewall Kitchen could better compete against larger national brands. Monica shared examples from retailers who showcased Stonewall Kitchen as part of a larger category set—and others who understood the brand’s essence, creating a dedicated “destination” area alongside fine cheeses, crackers, and charcuterie.
As I listened, I found myself unexpectedly emotional.
You see, I grew up in Southern New Hampshire, and Stonewall Kitchen’s story is woven into my own. They began in outdoor markets in Portsmouth, NH, where I lived after college, and their flagship store in York, Maine still feels like a pilgrimage spot when I go home. My pantry is rarely without their jams (the Sour Cherry remains my all-time favorite) and pancake fixings. Their hand-lettered labels and nostalgic jars evoke a warmth that feels deeply personal—a brand that’s part of home.
So when I heard students talk about segmenting the brand or repositioning it, I caught myself thinking: Wait—please don’t break the spell.
Stonewall Kitchen isn’t just a product line. It’s a feeling—a reflection of authenticity, care, and craft. When I see a small “store within a store” display, it transports me right back to those New England markets. It’s a reminder that brands at their best don’t just sell—they evoke.
And that’s what made me reflect on a larger truth: How do brands grow without losing what makes them special?
It’s tempting to chase scale—more SKUs, more shelves, more channels. But sometimes growth comes at the cost of coherence. Brands that forget their origin story risk becoming another commodity on the shelf. The strongest ones evolve thoughtfully: they expand around their core, not away from it. They listen—really listen—to what their most loyal consumers love, not just to what competitors are doing.
In a world of endless innovation and optimization, perhaps the greatest act of strategy is restraint—protecting what makes your brand emotionally irreplaceable.
Thank you, Monica, for sharing your insights and sparking such a rich conversation with my students. And thank you, Stonewall Kitchen, for reminding me that a brand’s heart can live far beyond its home base… even in a Pennsylvania grocery store aisle where I find you now.
