So, Spring is on the way, right?  As I look out my window and come face to face with yet another raw, gray, wet, bone chilling March day, I’ve decided that if I make Springy flavors, Spring will come…  Eventually.

It’s sometimes hard to be dreaming up clean herbal and fruity flavors when a thick blanket and a steaming cup of tea are the perfect companions, but once the first fuzzy inspiration materializes, it becomes much easier.

It all started at the Taste of Northwest Ohio. I served Limoncello truffles,  which have a white chocolate ganache center that has sipped Limoncello Liqueur and been sprinkled with fresh lemon zest.  Just try to remain groggy or grumpy when you are zesting a lemon.  Literally, it can’t be done.  Anyway, I talked with a woman there who makes her own limoncello, and is making basilcello this summer!  Doesn’t that sound unbelievably refreshing?  I’ve never seen this elixer, but in my mind it is a beautiful green, and tastes of spicy sun baked summer.  I’ll definitely be doing a basil soft caramel this spring. Maybe thai basil, lime and curry?

Now, maybe a truffle with green apple and mint?  Green tea and ginger?  I’ll definitely use lemon verbena, lavender petals, and strawberries with a balsamic vinegar reduction.  Not all together, mind you, I’m just getting excited!

I’d also really like to make a rhubarb truffle, because rhubarb always reminds me of spending time at my grandma’s house.  We would walk out to her garden (she always in a wide brimmed straw hat that tied under her chin) and she would cut a stalk for me. I would dip it, still warm from the sun, into a jar of sugar I had carried with me, and bite down hard. The anticipation of the sourness was almost as much fun as actually eating it!  Suddenly, I have a lot of work to do.

Alright  March, do your best.  Rain, sleet, bellow and blow if you must.  But Spring IS coming soon. I can just feel it.

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Whew!  It has been exactly 137 days since my last post.   I say this out loud not because I’m the least bit happy about it, but because it seems like a lifetime ago.  So much has happened, and as things usually go, there have been miraculous gifts and deep losses.

In October, I moved into my new digs at City Bake Shop, and it has been heavenly.  Although I loved making chocolates at the Culinary Vegetable Institute, and loved the constant comings and goings of creative, super talented chefs, the weight (literally) of hauling all of my stuff to and from for each order was becoming  more than my back, not to mention my resolve, could handle.  I was also terrified that I wouldn’t be able to fulfill my obligations to customers during the holidays, and if I hadn’t had my own space, that would have certainly been the case.

It is wonderful working in the presence of such talented, thoughtful, kind and generous women at the Bake Shop, and I hope to be there a very long time.  So far, my biggest challenge has been resisting the warm, fragrant scones as they emerge from the oven.  I fail regularly.  You really should try one.  Really.

Sadly, we lost my mother-in-law to a devastating stroke right before the holiday season. I watched my husband sit by her bed for hours, talk to doctors, and make impossible decisions with unwavering grace.

We were very different, she and I.  She was a consummate shopper, always beautifully put together, and I’m forever finding the least objectionable  thing in my closet to wear at the last possible moment, then wishing I’d made time to shop.  She loved to dine out, and who doesn’t, but I’m very happy being home.  She played golf and tennis, I put countless miles on my treadmill and love yoga and tribal belly dance.  She was always up to date on the latest shenanigans of celebrities, and I couldn’t be less interested.

For all of our differences though, there was something huge we had in common. We loved the same people.  And she is missed.

Pomona Chocolates grew tremendously this past year, and for that I thank loyal customers, encouraging friends, and the chocolate elves (really angels)  who came to the rescue when I was slammed.  There were weeks when the work would not have been finished without you.  Thanks so very much. It’s a huge blessing and privilege to grow a business surrounded by such lovely people.

Next up is Valentine’s Day, and I can’t wait to get started!  I just received my first 500 pound order of chocolate directly from the manufacturer yesterday, which is at once very exciting and a little scary, but  a milestone for sure.  This week I’ll be working on Valentine’s Day special flavors, so I’ll report back soon, and I promise it will be with much more regularity.

Happy New Year, and I hope 2011 is everything you want it to be!

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It’s the end of August, and the signs that autumn is fast approaching are undeniable. The hummingbirds have been migrating for over a week, and are constantly at the feeder hanging right outside our kitchen window.  In the Native American tradition the hummingbird represents joy, and I defy you to not deeply feel it while watching them dart, dive and hover.  I made the nectar with a little more sugar than normal this week, sort of like a double shot espresso before a long road trip.

Really, all birds with an eye to the south are beginning to flock, and the farmers’ markets are a beautiful mess, with every color, shape and variety of melon, squash, tomato and pepper imaginable.  Autumn is my favorite time of year, the best!  I love everything about it; the vibrant colors, the business and abundance of harvest time, Friday night football and marching bands, steaming soup, and the clean feel of cool air raising the bedroom curtains ever so slightly… delicious. I even love the longer evenings, they sort of give us permission to slow down and quiet ourselves a little earlier.  A glass of tawny port, a small bowl of spiced pecans, and a seat on the deck is a small slice of heaven. And because (let’s face it) it never takes long, I’m now dreaming about chocolate!

Tawny port and fig truffles topped with spicy orange pecan bits, pumpkin pie truffles, and chocolates infused with cardamom and allspice can’t be far away.  I’m also trying out roasted white chocolate truffles.  I’ll let you know.  My friend Joy will be very happy, because fall means the return of gingerbread caramels, enrobed in milk or dark chocolate, and decorated with a slice of candied ginger.  They aren’t yet designated a controlled substance, but those who like them seem to very much like them!

Kona coffee bonbons, and milk chocolate and toasted almond mendiants, topped with fleur de sel that has been smoked over old chardonnay oak barrels (I know!) will be back in the lineup, and something else I’m very excited about…

My daughter Sara just started grad school at the University of Kentucky, and she brought me a wonderful bottle of small batch artisan bourbon.  I can’t wait to make a chocolate befitting this amber elixer!  I’m thinking a two-layer piece, ganache and drippy caramel, both containing bourbon, and maybe a toasted pecan half perched cheekily on top. Right now it’s only a daydream with sort of fuzzy edges, but it should be taking physical form soon.

Here’s to fall, and if I come up missing, just check the closest pumpkin patch or apple orchard.  I’ll be the one trying to fit all the pumpkins, gourds and apple cider I just bought into my trunk!

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When starting a business it is understood, that unless you have unlimited resources (I don’t) or are absolutely brilliant at everything you attempt (I’m not), at some point you’re going to have to step way outside your comfort zone and do things you’d really rather not do.  It also requires that you say, “Yes, I’d love to!” without betraying your complete aversion to or terror/loathing of the very idea you’ve just praised.

This happened to me this past week, when the commercial kitchen where I started making my chocolates called, and said that a couple of television stations were interested in doing a story on their kitchen, and my product …  yikes and double yikes.

As I explained in my first post, chocolate making is like a meditation for me, something that sort of bends the rules about space and time, and hours pass in the blink of an eye.  Staying under the radar, doing my own little thing, is bliss.  This would be the anti-bliss.  In college, I even took my required public speaking course at 7:30 am on Saturdays because I figured there would be the least number of people in the class, that some fellow students might well be asleep or possibly still drunk from the night before.  I was right on all three counts, by the way.

Yep, to get through this, I was going to have to fall back on one of my favorite coping mechanisms: setting really low expectations.  I decided that to avoid making a complete and utter fool of myself was all I could really hope for, and if I accomplished that, all would be well.  A bright spot?  My thirteen-year-old son deemed this important enough to miss a day of summer shenanigans and come with me!

I decided to do hand painted sea turtles and bars, because they are really pretty, and I could have molds in various stages of completion, and have one completed mold ready to pop out, just like in the cooking shows.  The crew arrived and tried their best to make me feel comfortable. They told me that they were going to edit down the hour to just two minutes, and I figured that even I could manage to be alright three percent of the total time they were filming!  Once we got started, and the striking reporter (who unlike me, had the proper amount of makeup for the lights, killer heels, and no ponytail or hairnet) started asking me questions, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.

Eventually, my hands stopped shaking, and the hour went mercifully fast.  Before I knew it, we were on our way home.  My son smiled at me, told me I’d done a great job, and that I was awesome! I reached over to pat his knee, which long ago lost that delicious, dimpled fullness I’d loved to squeeze, and is now tan, angular, and always skinned. At that moment, I was really glad he saw me take on something that wasn’t easy for me.  So I guess stepping outside your comfort zone once in a while can be a very good thing, and doing it in front of your kids might be even better.

Julie

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There is no better time than Spring to feel the connection to and appreciation for the land that feeds us.  Growing up in northwest Indiana, a grandchild of farmers on both sides, I was accustomed to fretting when the fields were too wet at planting time, or worrying about tender, just emerged seedlings being trampled by a damaging hailstorm.  I recall seeing the curled corn blades spiking toward the sky during a wicked dry spell in August, and almost being able to hear their pleas for a cool shower.  More times than I can say, I’ve heard my mother comment on how fine the beans and corn looked as we drove to my grandparents for a Sunday visit.

Making chocolates at The Culinary Vegetable Institute this week, all those memories came flooding back to me.  It’s planting time, and there’s a wild flurry of activity.  A tremendous cutting flower garden out at the main entrance that will later have a sign posted, “Please do pick the Flowers!”, was just planted.  Don’t you love that?  The mammoth herb and edible flower garden that is at the entrance to the kitchen is coming along beautifully.  Dozens of variations of cool green sages and mints, bordered by sassy pansies and marigolds, are woven into an intricate tapestry of leaf and petal.

That very garden inspired me to use more herbs this week.  In addition to rosemary lemon soft caramels with toasted pine nuts, I made fresh mint truffles topped with candied mint leaves and blueberry basil bonbons with a touch of balsamic vinegar.  At home, the french tarragon is looking particularly lovely, so I’ll be working with it next, and I can’t wait to get my hands on some lemon verbena.  Infusing ganache with herbal and floral notes is a fantastic and flavorful way to bring what’s going on outside, inside.

Spring is also the perfect time for a little personal reflection, and for asking myself a few questions about what is happening in my own little (metaphorical) plot of land.  What in my life do I want to plant?  Will I have time to weed, feed and water it?  Come harvest time, will it be nourishing?

I hope that whatever you’re planting this Spring will grow to be big, juicy, and outrageously delicious, and that you’ll love taking a big bite out of it!

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Lavender and Madagascar Vanilla Bean Truffles

After a friend helps me make chocolates for the day, I more often than not hear a variation of this same question and comment, “Are you serious?”  “This is really hard work, and it takes forever!”  Answer to the question, Yes.  And yes, it is really hard work, takes time, and is not for everybody.  Which is kind of why I adore it.  

Let me explain.  At home, we’re out of fish food and key lime pie yogurt, the cat made a break for it when I let the dog out, and the garbage disposal is making a noise that sounds like a helicopter is using the kitchen counter as a landing pad.  Let’s just say my home has never run smoothly, like clockwork.  I am not good at organizing my belongings, and I’m even worse at training my offspring to do so.  But at the kitchen today, I created hundreds of heavenly lavender truffles that all look the same, each decorated with a lovely candied violet petal, and are lined up on the parchment paper in neat rows of nine.  Not one of them called to say they forgot lunch money.  (You know who you are!)

Chocolate making is really a meditation of sorts.  Chop chocolate, simmer cream, then slowly and carefully stir them together with all sorts of magical ingredients to make ganache or caramel. Oh yes, and then add butter, wonderful full bodied European butter.  This is the soul of the chocolate, the center.

Then it’s time to enrobe or mold the chocolates. If I work in an orderly way,  observe the laws of chemistry, and the fates known as high humidity and unfavorable temperatures are appeased, an amazing alchemy unfolds… every single time. A warm, sweet puddle transforms into a glossy brittle shell that snaps, yields to a soft silky center, then melts at a temperature that just happens to be slightly below body temperature.  Now, I would call that miraculous any day of the year!

Enrobing also requires that you stay in the moment.  If I am talking, listening, or am otherwise distracted, the truffles start rolling off the fork and dive back into the chocolate or on to the counter.  They insist upon undivided attention, and I learned long ago to oblige.  

Decoration is a joy, not work, but I’ll save that for another time.

So, despite the facts that being a chocolatier requires very long hours on your feet, involves carrying extremely heavy things, has given me a callous on my chopping hand, and demands strict attention to tiny details, I couldn’t be happier. 

Have a sweet week,

Julie

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