Failure ... ?
June 28, 2006
7:25 a.m., MT

Well, I guess it's a good thing that not everyone who'd expressed an interest in ordering truffles from me followed through. I have to say, after spending five of the most stressful days I've ever had in the kitchen on them, and as much as I want to continue at this, I'm not sure that I will. I'm feeling totally in over my head.

Read further at your own risk.

What on earth was I thinking, when I thought I could do this? It takes much, much more than being a competent cook to make a business fly, and I'm not sure I'm even a competent cook any more.

- Out of the ten flavors of truffles I made for this testing round, only two are ones I'm really happy with. Most need minor to major improvement, and two I should probably scrap altogether.

- Because I stupidly didn't buy the same chocolate I'd used in previous tests, I ended up with a bittersweet chocolate that was lovely in some ganaches, questionable in others, and demonic to work with for enrobing the chocolates. And I still have about 3 pounds of the stuff to do something with! (Right now I'm thinking target practice—that's how unhappy I am with this chocolate still—but I don't think it will come to that.)

- When working with fresh ingredients, it's impossible to ensure a consistent result across batches of truffles. I despise the idea of using the same flavoring oils other companies use in my candies, but I don't know of any other way to get a consistent flavor. Raspberries and spices were my nemeses this time.

- And let's not even start on the idiocy of trying to set up a professional workspace—without all my equipment—when one's in an unfamiliar kitchen.

How could I think that I could handle my two energetic children and a demanding production schedule at the same time?

I tried to import my home schedule here, which was a huge mistake. MAL works during the week ... and I'd gotten accustomed to devoting weekends to chocolatiering. Can you say conflict of interests?

I didn't give nearly enough thought to non-food aspects of the business. Packaging is better than it's been in the past, but woefully inadequate still, I fear.

And doing a test run in summer? When many other chocolatiers suspend shipments so they don't have to deal with the challenges of keeping fragile candies cool enough to arrive intact and fresh ... What on earth was I thinking? My warm-weather packaging was an afterthought, largely because I downplayed MAL's vocalized concerns about it. Thus it ended up being an ugly kluge that I'm hoping will work, and that took agonizing hours to prepare.

Both the time and expense of packaging were vastly underestimated. Hence both were very unprofessionally handled this time around. The packaging I did devote time and effort to turned out to be inadequate, largely because I'm ignorant about candy industry terminology, standards, and process still.

Trying to solve packaging and shipping issues when you're already stressed and exhausted from long days of chocolatiering is a recipe for misery. Not just for me, either. (Fortunately, the snolfs are very understanding and compassionate children. They're also robust and have already forgiven me.)

So is trying to think when you're running on caffeine and adrenalin, and not much else. (And don't forget to factor in the snolfs, who, when they weren't squabbling with each other, were trying to be helpful, either by asking how they could help me or by pointing out that I sounded upset, stressed, etc.)

How did I think I could launch a professional business with no startup capital to speak of? To get packaging/chocolate/ingredients that works requires lots of samples. Lots of testing. Lots of time and money. I tried to soar past all that and landed with a thud instead of taking gracefully to wing.

What led me to think I could make money at this when my business plan required that I pay retail prices for all my equipment and supplies?

How did I think I could manage all this by myself? And notice that I haven't even mentioned marketing yet.

Arrrgh!!!!


I haven't officially thrown in the towel yet. Despite the past five days of ever-increasing stress and -decreasing sleep and nutrition, I still love making these candies. I'm crazy/naïve/stupid enough to believe that I can, with better organization and methodology, create a good product line.

But then what?

How does one know when one's work crosses the line separating research and development from sunk costs?

How does one pull back from a dream that seems tantalizingly close in some respects?

Don't look to me for answers. My feet are still hurting from their recent abuses, my mind producing a near-endless litany of criticism that expands on all the above, and the sum it wants to ring up on this long-running experiment is FOOL.

But I have ganaches in the refrigerator still, and chocolate for enrobing ... and I will probably be at it again tomorrow. Not for anyone to buy, but because of the happiness I feel when it all works right and I have a countertop of beautiful, gleaming candies that get converted into beaming smiles when someone I care about eats them.

Sunni

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