Metamorphosis (almost) complete

So here we are - things look a little different, yes? The reasons for this change are irrelevant (sort of, I'll probably tell all about it at some point), but the fact remains that today is the end of LØVE and the beginning of LUCA. You'll notice a different address in your browser - I'm pretty sure that if you're a subscriber, nothing changes, but if you've got me bookmarked, go ahead and change it to lucachocolate.blogspot.com.

The new website (www.lucachocolate.com) is also complete. It's got a cool new layout, and I think, a much easier shopping interface. Do let me know what you think, and of course, if you find any mistakes, shoot me an email. Again, go ahead and change your bookmarks, though it will redirect you to the new site on its own.

Let's start with the obvious question...who is LUCA? What is LUCA? In a nutshell, this is LUCA:


He is a big, beautiful, brilliant horse, and the new namesake of my company. He is NOT allowed near the chocolate, but he makes his own sort of executive decisions nonetheless.

I'll debut the new logo in the next couple of days, and you'll start to see new boxes in stores and your mailbox. I'm sidelining the dark brown box and ushering in a new bright aqua box. The colors stay the same, just reversed, so look for the aqua box with the brown stamp. I'll also be sidelining the stamp in favor of a slick label (though it will still have the hand carved look of the old version). This is more of a sanity decision - as the orders have begun rolling in, the ability to hand stamp the boxes dwindles. If you still want a hand stamped box, I'll be more than happy to make you one, just leave me a note in the comments box when you order and you'll have your own little piece of LUCA chocolate artwork.

I want to thank all of you again for being so supportive, this has definitely been a challenging time, and really not one that I anticipated. I think I've done a good job of rolling with the punches, and I know we're going to come out of this bigger and stronger and tastier.

Semi-celebrity

No, you won't find me posted on PerezHilton or TMZ (thank goodness), but a few weeks ago, I was plastered across the front page of the Courier-Tribune. A few weeks before that, reporter Chip Womick and photographer Paul Church visited me one rainy Thursday morning to talk about all things chocolate.

This wasn't my first interview about my business, but it was certainly the most in-depth. I treated them to a demonstration of making vanilla buttercreams, and we talked and took pictures for a good three hours before all the information had been gathered.

The response has been fantastic. I've gotten lots and lots of encouraging comments, and the Arts Guild is having a hard time keeping my chocolate in stock. I'll try to get a good scan of the article and post it here.

Small Town Sophistication

It all started with a bawdy joke from a well-respected urologist. I don't think I got the same level of laughter, but I did alright.

A couple of weeks ago, I had the pleasure of speaking to the Asheboro Rotary Club about the origins of chocolate and how bon-bons are made. I'm still quite new to this public speaking business, but I'm getting better, and everyone seemed to enjoy it (though I kept the bawdy jokes to nil). As a small business owner, the opportunity to speak to a large portion of the movers and shakers in my town was priceless publicity. But, more than that, it was a chance to share a little more of what I love with the town that I call home.

I've lived in the greatest city in the world, and I've seen a lot of beautiful European cities. I count my time in those places among the treasured moments of my life. But this dirt, this air, these trees and lakes and streams are my home. I don't think I truly knew what it meant to find home until I left it. It's one of the reasons I chose to base my business here. Sure, New York or Boston or Chicago would be more lucrative for a fine chocolate producer. But I think it's time my little corner of the south had the same level of sophistication as a big city - at least when it comes to chocolate. Who says you have to have high rise office buildings and constant traffic jams to enjoy good, worthwhile food? Let's just call it, "small town sophistication".

the flavor-making process

I've been holed up in the kitchen for the past week and a half, trying to come up with brilliant new flavors that will cement LØVE chocolate into your hearts and tastebuds forever. Last year, work circumstances prevented me from having a big Valentine's, and I'm hoping to reverse that this year.

Before I get to the big flavor reveal, I thought I'd get a little more in-depth with the process of creating a new flavor. There are a few necessary factors that must be considered - obviously, it needs to taste good, it should be either a classic combination or an innovative one, and it has to have the staying power to last about a month.

Let's start with taste. It's always been my intention to create flavors that are memorable. The first step on that path is good taste. As any good cook will tell you, the easiest way to make a memorable meal is start with high quality ingredients. For me, that means chocolate that revels in its cocoa-ness, the brightest, freshest fruits, and butter and cream from happy, local cows.

After the ingredients are covered, I have to consider the combinations. My main consideration has always been innovation, and unique pairings that work. I don't want an anchovy and lavender truffle... unless it's the most amazing thing you've ever put in your mouth (don't worry, it's not in the works). Instead of being weird just to be weird, I try to think of the flavors that I love, and translate them into chocolate. The easiest example of this is the LØVE Chocolate signature - sea salt caramel. Salty and sweet are satisfying at a primal level - the nuances of fine chocolate and buttery caramel just add to the pleasure.

It's not all about innovation and uniqueness, sometimes the most satisfying taste is the familiar one. When crafting a flavor that has its roots in tradition, it all comes back to the ingredients and the technique. Balancing the individual notes can elevate a classic combination - like chocolate and peanut butter - into something a little more sophisticated, a little more interesting.

The last factor is just as important as the first two. I believe that chocolate candies are the best moments after they're made, and it's my goal to put them in your hands as soon after that as I can. But maybe you have a modicum of self control and don't eat them all as soon as the postman drops them off (I have clients who do, and they may be my favorite people ever). You may also have purchased my chocolate from one of the local retailers who stock it (also on that favorite list). To that end, I'm always considering scientific things like water activity and pH as well as the more creative things. It's not necessary to get into a long explanation - perhaps another day. The easiest thing to remember is that less water = longer shelf life, and more acidic things tend to last longer, too.

All of this is just a big, teasing lead-up to the new flavors...which will be here tomorrow!

A very good year.

Now is the time when thoughts turn to the future and the past. I've been thinking quite a bit about the events of the past year, and where I want to go in the future.

It's hard to believe that I've been in business for a full year, and that this company was just a few scribbles on a notepad only a year before that. In that time, I've made thousands of caramels, melted hundreds of kilos worth of chocolate, and folded about a million boxes*. The amount of work I've done can only be equalled by the amount of fun I've had. Nothing has been so rewarding as making all the decisions I've made, no matter how seemingly insignificant. This year, I learned to believe in myself more than ever before. I've seen what can come from hard work, dedication,and the support of friends and family. To everyone who has made my first year a success, I cannot thank you enough.

This year is going to bring a lot of exciting changes. A new website is coming soon, with lots of new pictures and flavors. Soon, you'll be able to find LØVE Chocolate in many more local shops, and you just might be eating it at the next wedding you attend. You can look forward to lots of photos, updates and new flavors in the weeks and months to come.

It's going to be a very good year.


*figures are all estimates based on emotions and fuzzy facts

Jumping Without a Net

What would you do if you knew you couldn't fail? I know it's a question that's been asked before, by others much more qualified than me. It's something I've been thinking about a lot today. There was a delay in my chocolate order - so I can't really go crazy with work until Monday morning. I've still got plenty to do, but the majority of it is rather mindless and that left my brain free to wander.

Fear is one of those love/hate subjects for me, heavy on the hate. I've learned that fear can be a great protector - it's our primal fears that often keep us out of dangerous situations. I know there have been a few situations where that kind of gut instinct has kept me out of harm's way. But fear can also be a smothering blanket, like an overprotective parent who never lets his child out of sight. It's that kind of fear that I've grown to dislike and avoid. It's insidious, when you least expect it, the grasping fingers of fear come out to pull you down.

Today I declared my own personal war on wet-blanket fear. With vigilance, I plan to knock it down and never let it back up. It's the cautiousness that stops me when I'm just about to be a more authentic version of myself. It's fear of judgement or rejection that shackles me to stupid life patterns that get me nowhere. If I'd let fear win out, I would have never started this business, I would probably have stayed at one or another dead-end and senses-numbing job, always hoping for a big break, or perhaps the lottery.

I exaggerate for the purposes of making a point - I really don't think I've ever been quite so fearful, although there have been days. But how many people can relate to that? I think there are quite a few out there who still have a little spark of a dream, but fear of judgement, rejection, and failure hold them back.

It's my nature to be shy. I've written about my introversion before. But, is it possible to change from an introvert to an extrovert? Is it possible that the fear drained my energy, and not the social interaction? I think I'll find out soon enough. My war on fear starts today. Today is the day that I analyze every negative thought and banish it, because it comes from an unproductive place of fear, and I've got no room for unproductivity. That's right, unproductivity, it's a new word, I've just made it up. Today I jump, and trust that the net will be there before I land. And if the net isn't there, then there's probably a good reason, and I'll figure it out, instead of blaming the roadies.

you gotta know when to fold 'em

Oh Kenny Rogers, you're a modern day oracle. Sometimes you really do need to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to walk away, and know when to run.

Nobody panic, the company isn't folding. But there have been a couple of experiences over the past few days that reminded me that every opportunity shouldn't be taken, every path doesn't need to be walked. I'll share one of them, the other one I'll keep to myself. Oddly enough, I'm going to share the personal experience and not the business one.

Last night, I was talking on the instant messenger to a guy I'd just met. The conversation had just gotten started, literally, we were about four exchanges in.


Him: "Hi, this is ****"

Him: "how are you?"

Me: "pretty good, and you?"

Him: "pretty good"

Him: "so are you cynical about men, too?"

Me: "what?"

Him: "it's a question..."

HIm: "ARE"

Him: "YOU"

Me: "yeah, I'm familiar with questions, but why would you ask if I was cynical about men, too? That implies that I've already admitted to being cynical about something, which I haven't, because I'm not"

Him: "are you always so uptight?"

Him: "because you seem pretty uptight right now"

Me: "no"

Him: "WELL?"

Me: "well, what?"

Him: "are you going to answer my question? Have I caught you at a bad time? Maybe you'd be in a better mood later"
(after a brief pause, where I considered my options and answered the phone - it was somebody I'd much rather spend time talking to)

Me: "I think we're done here."

Me: "Goodnight."



Really. What was that? Was he trying some of that Mystery, pick up artist bull? (not familiar? let me enlighten you...) Was he that pathetically clueless about how to have a conversation?

I don't know, because I didn't stick around to find out. Sure, maybe I'm missing out on an opportunity to make a new friend, but if that's his first impression, can you imagine what's to come? Forgive me for wanting to miss out on hours of being corrected and having flaws magnified.

It's a lesson I'm learning in business as well as in personal relationships - not every opportunity is going to be helpful. It may seem obvious when it's written down, but I can assure you, in practice, it's not so easy. When your biggest dream is to have a healthy, growing business with a broad client base, the lines between colossal time wasters and genuine helpers gets a little blurry. The only thing I know that works is just as clichéd as you think - trust your instincts.

The Five Types of Sampler

First off, apologies if you got the last post eight million times. There was a little problem with the HTML link and it wasn't apparent until after I'd hit the little publish button. What can I say? I'm a pastry chef, not an IT whiz.

I promised a more in depth story about chocolate sampling at the Weaver Street Market. After five(ish) hours of standing face to face with shoppers, I think I've identified a few distinct types of sampler.

The Enthusiast: approaches the display with gusto, intent on procuring a sample; tastes, appraises, responds accordingly (about 98% positive, in my case); proceeds to discuss all aspects of chocolate making, eating and buying.

The Frugal Nibbler*: tentatively tries a very small piece; quite surprised to actually be enjoying it; looks at the price and scurries away. (* there are two types of frugal nibbler, the one who checks the price and smiles while quietly backing away, and the one who checks the price and loudly declares "too rich for my wallet" or "I'll just stick to the samples!" and makes an exit)

The Multi-Sampler: walks up, tries one of each piece, and continues with shopping; approx 5-15 minutes later, reappears and attempts a look of innocence while trying two more pieces; upon making eye contact, the multi-sampler will often cite a child/friend/significant other on the opposite side of the store who just "has to try this" (it's ok, it's flattering, really)

The Analyst: before sampling, or while the chocolate is melting on his/her tongue, the Analyst will ask questions and inspect the ingredients list; my favorite analyst was a woman who said, "does this contain sugar?"

The Ghost: actually not a sampler at all, but an apparition-like shopper, intent on making only the pre-ordained purchases and getting out; the most notable thing about the Ghost is the ability to avoid eye contact, distractions, or the allure of chocolate.


As a lone chocolatier, I don't have a large group of people with whom I interact daily. It's pretty much just me and my infinitely helpful assistant/grandmother. Five hours of people watching was very much an information overload, but it was also lots of fun. I hope no one reads this list and finds it cynical - that wasn't my intention. Every single person who took the time to stop, sample and interact with me deserves some thanks. I realize that they were getting quite a payoff - free chocolate - but they were giving me the opportunity to share my business with them and potentially make a new client. The more contacts, the more sales, and the longer I get to keep doing what makes me happiest.

A brief discussion of self-control.

It's been an eventful week. I took a brief vacation to visit a dear friend who's living in Florida. The drive down was long and tiring, but beautiful. I've never driven that far south, and it's really something to see. I imagine that if I had a more intimate knowledge of the back roads, there would be an even more stunning view of the South Carolina low country and Georgia. There's something about the wetlands just off I-95, it's something you'd never see from the oval window of a plane. There are long expanses of low grasslands, punctuated by bony trees, black and reaching out of the ground like something from a graveyard horror film. It just looks quiet there.

All that quiet gives one time to think, and I did a lot of thinking in the 14 hours I was on the road. In some ways, I think it prepared me for a rather upsetting interaction with a potential new friend (there is no potential left, now). I think a lot of people would benefit from a good long stretch of highway and time to figure it all out.

I used my highway to think about the way we interact with people. There are so many things that we've convinced ourselves we can control, even with the most superstitious of methods. The one thing we can definitely control is ourselves. I think if we focused more on our own actions, and less on trying to fruitlessly control other people's, we'd find that elusive patch of sanity and zen that everyone seems to be seeking.

I won't share the details of my upsetting interaction, they've got nothing to do with chocolate. But when immediately confronted with a situation where many people would use any number of ways to attempt to exercise control over someone else, I decided to put my thoughts into action. I realized that lowering myself, even incrementally, would be a futile attempt to manipulate the situation in my favor. So I didn't. I saw the truth for what it was, and thanked the messenger.

And then I erased his phone number.

Perseverance, or The Merits of Hard Work

The biggest difference I've found between owning a business and working for someone else is this: you cannot afford to slack off. There have been days, in my pre-business life, when I know I wasn't bringing my full ability to the stainless steel table. Most often, those days came the Sunday after a particularly hard Saturday night.

Saturday was the worst day at the Inn. The maximum number of guests were booked in the hotel, and dinner was always heavy. My least favorite part of the whole day was one hour - the hour between 4 and 5 pm. Afternoon tea began at four and ended at five. If tea was busy, which it almost always was on a Saturday, all other essential work would stop while we loaded up trays with scones, cakes and little pots of clotted cream and lemon curd. I imagine the most frustrating part of it was not the loading up, or even tediously filling those pots with uncooperative condiments. The most frustrating part was walking into the dishwashing area and seeing the very same tea trays, still full, perhaps with a brownie missing, maybe a bite or two out of the scone, and those damned pots, still full.

It's not that the tea treats weren't tasty, quite the contrary, everything we made was really good, and it was hard not to eat it all ourselves. No, the problem was that in addition to 1 scone, 1 brownie, 1 cookie, 1 tartlet, and 1 piece of fruitcake, each guest also received a tray of sandwiches, each about 4 inches long and an inch wide. So add 1 egg salad, 1 roast beef, 1 salmon and dill, 1 cucumber, and 1 tomato and cheese sandwich to that list of food. Now serve it 1-2 hours before a big, expensive dinner that most of the guests had already paid for, and I probably wouldn't be too hungry either!

Picture a busy Saturday, a rushed tea service - mostly an exercise in futility as you now see, followed by a rush to complete all the production needs before service - most importantly bread, another story for another day - and you begin to understand why a Sunday was a great day for slacking off. More importantly, I think it may be a little more clear why it felt ok to slack off every now and again.

I've never been averse to hard work. And I think I've always tried to give the most I could to my employers. When you begin to realize that the work you're doing is mostly going directly into the trash, that's when it's hard to put your back into it so heartily. But just as I did then, the only thing to do (in my mind, at least) is to keep going, one foot in front of the other until the work is done.

The difference now is that I know everything I do has a reason, and isn't superfluous or wasteful. And that is indeed a big difference.

My double life.

I have a secret, and it's about to come out. If you were to come up to me on the street, you'd probably never know what I'm about to reveal. Then again, maybe you're very perceptive and you'd see right through my flimsy disguise. My secret? I'm very shy. I'd much prefer being alone or with a few close friends as opposed to in a group of new people. New people exhaust me. It's not that I dislike them, it's just that all the steps that one must take to meet a new person completely drain my energy. If you don't recall from your psychology class notes, this is the precise definition of an introvert.

By this point, we've established that being outgoing and assertive doesn't come naturally to me. It's too bad, since those are very key personality traits when running a business. I've had to develop those skills over time, and sometimes I think I'm just one furtive glance away from exposing myself for the introvert I really am. It's never really occurred to me that I wouldn't just overcome those tendencies. The big secret to entrepreneurship, as far as I see it, is just that. It doesn't matter what sort of obstacle stands in your way, you must realize that, for your business to thrive, there is a way around it.

That doesn't mean that every problem will be neatly solved, or that every idea you have can be done. Sometimes the way around an obstacle is realizing that it's an idea that won't work, and finding a new direction.

Personal Assistance

This morning, as my business line was ringing for the third time (unfortunately, all wrong numbers and all the same person), I had a fun little idea. Maybe I need a personal assistant. He/she could follow me around all day, taking down notes and letters, answering my phone and getting me water and tea. Never again would I have to needlessly scramble to find good reception only to realize that the caller wanted Lisa or Danny and not some fine chocolates.

While indulging in my grandiose fantasies is a lovely way to wake up, I do have work to do. There are new flavors coming down the line. September 14 will be the last day to get banana cream, coconut, lime and mint flavored candies. They're moving out to make room for fall flavors:

The aforementioned Orange Apricot Cream will start out the lineup. Also in the works, Pumpkin Seed Toffee (the poll winner!), Candied Apple Caramel, Ginger Spice Buttercream, and Marzipan Squares.

In the next few days, I'll have pictures and descriptions ready to go, so check back soon.

Living my own metaphors.

Last Monday, I had a very nice date with a very nice boy. He lives near Charlotte, and as there's much more to do there, I drove down to meet him. Everything was fine until I tried to go home. That's when my personal life gave me a perfect metaphor for my business life.

As I pulled away from the movie theater, going back the way I came, I was certain that I knew how to get home. After all, I've been to that area many times, and I'm pretty good with direction. So, you can imagine my surprise when I somehow found myself going in the direction I came from. How? I have no idea. Somewhere along the way, I'd made a turn that put me back on the road to the theater. The business metaphor that this mirrors? Sometimes you think you're going in the right direction, only to end up where you started.

Luckily, I knew that the interstate was nearby. Driving on I-85 isn't my favorite thing in the world, but it was a safe bet to get back home. I spent about 10 minutes on the road before being overtaken by 10 big tractor-trailers. I probably haven't mentioned it before, but I drive a MINI. Normally the big trucks don't intimidate me too much, but when they're swarming your car, going about 80, they get scary. I thought I'd found my exit, so I got off the road quickly. Metaphor? If you feel like you're in over your head, try to find an alternate solution.

Not so luckily, I wasn't on the road I thought. Instead, I ended up driving through the business district of several small towns before finally (finally!) getting back on the road that would lead me home. There were a few moments when I thought I should turn around, and a few when I just wanted to give up (and do what? sleep in the car?), but I kept driving, and eventually found my highway. Of course, I did have the advantage of knowing where I was going, however vaguely. But the living metaphor for me was: Believe that you know where you're going. It may take longer than you think, but don't give up when you know you're right.

It was all a little hokey, and I apologize for getting all inspirational greeting card on y'all, but it was a message that rang true for me. This business is all a big adventure for me, and I'm sure if any of you are starting businesses of your own, you'll know that sometimes you just need a little reassurance.

What I wanted to be when I grew up.

I haven't always dreamed of a life fully immersed in butter, sugar, and chocolate. I haven't even always dreamed of a life fully immersed in hanger steaks, olive oil, and sea scallops. Before all of those dreams, I wanted to be a forensic pathologist.(image courtesy of www.art.com)

Before CSI:Akron became the standard CBS weekly lineup, Scully was cutting up aliens and chupacabra victims and making it look cool. I wanted to be just like her. There was just one tiny snag. I am ridiculously weak-stomached when it comes to gore. It takes very little blood/needles/exposed insides to make me drop.

I was reminded of that fact this morning. I took my dad to the hospital for some orthopedic surgery. I was being quite cautious, I even left the room while they inserted his IV. Apparently, it doesn't matter. The mere suggestion of needles into skin was enough to make me feel a little light headed. I left for the waiting room to get something to drink. As I was counting out quarters, I felt it. The familiar sensation of blood rushing out of my brain crept in, and I looked for a chair. It's a funny feeling, the sense that you're about to faint. It's actually not completely unpleasant. The nausea is, of course, not great. But there's this other feeling, an opiate haze descending on your brain. All you want to do is sleep. And if you do close your eyes, it's got to be one of the best sleeps ever. The problem with closing your eyes and giving in to that sweet sleep, is that others find it a cause for alarm. I suppose there's something about a person just sliding off their chair and onto the floor of the waiting room that sends them running for the nurses.

Anyway, I didn't pass out, just came close. I asked for assistance, and a little water, and after a few minutes, everything was fine.

Everyone's a critic.

Actually, in this instance, the criticism was requested, and I think it was a pretty good review! Brian, of candyaddict.com fame, kindly took some time out from his busy candy eating schedule to give my chocolates a whirl. You can read the review here.

I don't know how much of a secret it is, but one of the realities of being a chef (and probably any sort of creative person to some extent) is that no matter how confident you are in your abilities, there's a need for other people to like what you do. Artists often thrive on their outsider status, and usually it just takes a few of the right people to like something and the art world will follow suit - whether they really think it's good or not. Food is much more objective. Certainly there are tastes that aren't shared by everyone, but for the most part, it's pretty difficult to say good food is bad or vice versa - although some of the stronger smelling cheeses might give one pause. That leaves even the most confident chef at the mercy of someone else's tastebuds.

I consider myself very fortunate to have strong cooking skills and educated senses; I feel like I have a good idea of what tastes good to others. Still, every time I make something, every time I give a new person something I've made, I wait on pins and needles, hoping that they're going to like it. It's just the way it is for me. I don't ever want to be the sort of chef who turns out mediocre food because my overconfidence has kept other's opinions from penetrating my big head.

Living well is the best revenge.

Earlier this week, I found myself at a party for a friend that I knew from my last job. It was sort of a spur of the moment decision to go, I'd been invited by another friend from the restaurant, with whom I stay in touch quite regularly. After I decided to go, I had sudden second thoughts...would the chef be there? In the end, I summoned my courage and put on my cutest dress.

I am so glad I did. For one thing, the chef wasn't there, and neither was his ape-like second in command (story to follow). It turned out that everyone I wanted to see was there, and no one I didn't want to see! How very convenient for me. It was wonderful to see all my old friends, and even nicer to be able to answer people's question of "what do you do now?" with the best answer I've ever had. Let me just assure you, when people expect you to tell them you're floundering around in another restaurant job, it really kicks ass to be able to say, "I own my own business, I'm a chocolatier".

There was one thing that I couldn't help but notice about the whole night. First, I need to explain my philosophy when it comes to people from my past that I'd rather forget. Essentially, if I'd rather forget them, for the most part, I do. I don't mean that I go to great lengths to erase them from my history, or pretend that they don't exist. I just cease to give them any importance. I don't ask others about them, I don't refer to them unless it's necessary, and I don't think about aspects of our interactions. So, armed with that information, you can imagine how, after months of forgetting all about the ways of the "great and powerful chef", I was inundated with stories. Every person at the party had a chef story and none of them were good.

I can't deny that there was a tiny amount of satisfaction in knowing that I was right in my assessment of him, and there was a large measure of relief at not having to endure his antics. But really, a lot of me felt bad for him, and especially for his family. He is truly one of the most miserable, bitter people I've ever met. He hides it well, but when the "fit hits the shan", the massive chip on his shoulder threatens to crush anyone in his path.

First, the good things: He has a wife who seems to be genuinely kind and decent. His children are quite young, and I really don't know what it would be like to have him as a father. He's a man of thirty, but he behaves like a 2 year old. When things are going his way, he can be very pleasant and funny. He seems to have sincere concern for his employees and friends.... But when things don't go his way, he throws a tantrum. He'll yell and scream and pout, storming around the kitchen, searching for something else that may be slightly off, so the tantrum can begin anew. All that sincere concern flies out the window, and he'll throw you to the wolves or just insult you until you'd prefer the wolves to listening to his rants.

In the span of two weeks, he accused me of sexual harrassment (without ever asking me to defend myself), told me how valuable I was to the team (after I'd requested a transfer out of the kitchen and the HR director betrayed my request to keep that information private unless she had a new position for me), and then, when I tendered my resignation, accused me of slacking off, while I was working just as hard as I always had. I suppose it would be within my rights to find some way to get back at him. But I'd really just rather move on with my life, forget his name, and watch from afar as the kitchen falls down around his head.

the wheels of progress move slowly

Kitchen construction has begun. It's crazy how quickly and slowly the process goes. Over Memorial Day, the framing went up, and the plumbers are due to come this week. I still have to line up the electrician (I had one set up, but he flaked out). After that, it's just a matter of finish work and moving in all of the appliances.

When I was around ten, my parents built a house. Then, a few years later, my grandmother built a house. I've been through the building process, but it never seems to sink in. I've been seeing this kitchen in my head for months, and now I just want it done.

Up and Running!

First, just a little reminder. I am a pastry chef. My broadest base of knowledge involves working with butter, sugar, flour, eggs, and chocolate (of course). While I feel like I'm more than the sum of my cooking skills, that is where a lot of my experience lies. So you can imagine how well I do with HTML. I think there are probably single celled organisms who know more about HTML tags than I do. But, there was a website to be made and I wasn't going to let that stand in my way!

Our website is hosted by the lovely people over at www.fatcow.com. They have this dandy little program called "ShopSite" which helps you create a store with the help of a wizard. It was relatively quick, painless, and yielded good results. And if I wanted good results, I would never have had to wander down the HTML road. I wanted great, impressive, very professional results. That meant I had to master a few tags in order to avoid having one big run-on sentence of an online store.

Once that was mastered, I had to find a way to link my newly made store with our already existing website. Hilarity ensued. I'm sure lots of you in the blogosphere have plenty of experience with code and the inner workings of a website. But just in case you don't know what I'm talking about, let me give you an example of what it all looks like:

" !DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-type" title Blogger: Eat. Løve. Chocolate. - Create Post /titlelink href="/css/app.css" type="text/css" rel="stylesheet" script src="https://ssl.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"!--"

What the hell is that? (I've taken out all the little < symbols because it is technically coding, and I don't want to code the blog, I want to show the code.) I could pick out the words in the code, and so I started from there. This is the point in the story where I could take full credit for the loveliness that is our home page, and go on about how, with the help of a little book about code, I created that in a few short hours. But that would be untrue, and unfair. My dear friend and former partner, David, is responsible for cleaning up my mess. He very patiently went back through it all, with the help of Dreamweaver, and got everything sorted out. I'm not saying he did it all. I did manage to link the store to the home page by myself. But he made it look good. And that's why we're friends.

Now! Go order chocolate!

Changes.

Things are a little different starting today. For no reason other than it was the right thing to do, the partnership aspect of LØVE Chocolate is over. It's just me now. I own my own business! Whoo hoo! I'm excited and looking forward to moving things along a lot faster. The website is now up, although that will be changing again pretty soon. There will be online ordering and all kinds of exciting flavors in the coming weeks.

Stay tuned.

I dream of orders.

I am officially wrapped up in the chocolate business. Last night, I took a chocolate order in my sleep. I don't mean that someone called at 2 a.m. and I answered the phone (although I do hope to inspire that level of chocolate addicted-ness). No, I took a chocolate order in my dream.

I find myself constantly considering marketing angles, trying to find new ways to put us in the black. I suppose that's why it filters over in my dreams. Too bad, really, I much prefer dreaming about romantic encounters. If I'm going to dream about chocolate, I wish I'd have some sort of grand revelation between the hours of midnight and eight, instead of just taking an order.

In other, much more interesting and exciting news, the new kitchen is now framed. I'm waiting to hear back from the plumbers, and we'll be on our way. I can't say enough good things about restaurant auctions when it comes to outfitting a kitchen on a budget. Certainly I've been to some auctions where people forget their senses and pay stupid prices for used equipment. But, if you find yourself at one of those glorious auctions where there is no reserve, and no-one wants to pay for anything, the deals are yours for the taking.

I was at such an auction a few months ago. I felt really bad for the restaurant owner - he'd lost his lease and had to be out, so everything had to go. I saw a $7000 crystal chandelier go for $600. My fellow buyers were mostly men, and mostly older, I stuck out like a zebra in a stockyard. The small wares were listed before the big equipment, so I had about a two hour wait of auctioning before I was even ready to consider bidding. That did nothing to lower my profile, either. At one point, I stood next to an older Indian man. He started up a little conversation, asking me where my business was, and so on. I answered a few questions and excused myself to go sit in another area of the restaurant. Less than five minutes later, here he came, making a beeline for my booth. He was joined by his business partner; together, they looked like they came from central casting. The first man who spoke to me was chubby and had a happy expression. His parter was tall, thin and shifty. He sat down and immediately started asking me questions - where was I located, what did I do, did I have a phone number? I told him that we didn't have a business number yet (a lie) and excused myself to go check out some of the equipment I would be bidding on. As I was looking in a back room, I heard them behind me! What was their deal? I'll never know if this was just some cultural miscommunication, or if they were trying to kidnap me, because about that time, the auction finally started moving back to the large equipment in the kitchen. In about thirty minutes, I was the new owner of a commercial microwave ($50), several sheet pans ($2 each), a double sink with drain boards ($25!!), and the big fish: an eight foot refrigerated work top ($350!). Needless to say, I was ecstatic.

So, as soon as I have plumbing, electricity, and some drywall, I'll have the perfect place to put all of my new stuff.