Archive | 2022

Origin Trip: Hawaii – Part I

September 27, 2022 by

Alooooooo-hah, readers!

At the start of September, two seven-team-member Dandelion groups embarked, one after the other, on whirlwind tours of cacao farms and chocolate factories in Hawaii — our first Origin Trips in nearly four years. As a lucky member of Group 2 (and possibly since I often proofread Dandelion’s newsletters?), our Web team asked if I might share a trip snapshot.

I’d joined Dandelion in November 2019 as a new Guest Experience Ambassador for our 16th Street factory’s dessert salon, Bloom*. (If in late 2019 or early 2020 you were greeted at the factory by a tall, voluble blonde woman, we’ve met!) A sparkly perk of any Dandelion role then was the opportunity to apply, after two years on the job, for limited spots on an employee “Origin Trip”: a company-led excursion to an equatorial cacao farm or cocoa producer. Dandelion’s Bean Sourcerer, Greg D’Alesandre, typically facilitated several Origin Trips each year, for both team members and customers; and as past groups had visited the Dominican Republic, Tanzania, and Ecuador, this future-adventure possibility held terrific appeal.

Then the world closed in March 2020. Dandelion systems (and the food industry at large) shuddered as we scrambled to create new approaches for sourcing cocoa, making chocolate, and distributing products to customers. Already a small business, Dandelion went from mostly brick-and-mortar to almost entirely virtual overnight, and shrank as certain roles ceased to exist. Travel halted. (I felt fortunate to join a newly formed online-guest-care team, and to help out on copy, while working remotely.)

Zoom to 2022: Scientists and public servants expressed optimism about Covid-19 containment, and on April 15, Todd announced that Dandelion would resume our internal Origin Trips program within the year — and invited two-year-plus employees to apply for a projected Hawaii excursion in early fall. Bunches of us raced to submit applications, and on August 4, Anna (of our People Operations team) shared that Greg would lead two Hawaii Origin Trips in September, with slated visits to chocolate makers on Oahu and Maui, and to cacao farms on Oahu, Kauai, and Maui.

The diverse trip groups would include Dandelion chocolate makers, program and fulfillment managers, pastry chefs, chocolate educators, a barista, a bean sourcer, and a copy editor. Group 1 (Eric, Jose, Kayla, Malia, Mary, Nate, and Ruben) would travel September 2 through 7, and Group 2 (Christina, Lori, Pablo, Paula, Roman, Ron, and Trevor) would reach Honolulu late-ish September 7, and return to S.F. on the 12th.

In hindsight, Greg’s jovial introductory itinerary e-mail — “Day 3: We fly over to Maiu to visit Ku’ia Estate, a cocoa farm, fermentary, and chocolate factory run by Dan O’Doherty. We return and eat a late dinner!” — barely hinted at the technicolor tornado we were to experience. (Confession: Had I known a newsletter was in the offing, I would have taken trip notes!)

*Our Events and Pastry teams are already in bustling holiday mode, and we hope to reopen Bloom before the end of the year. Watch this space for updates!

Day 1: Arrival

After two-and-a-half years of tight quarantining, I excitedly (trepidatiously) packed a carryon of quick-dry clothing; stuffed my backpack with N95 masks, alcohol wipes, and bug balm; and hopped an Uber to SFO. The car reached Terminal 3 in short order, and I gulped water, double-masked up, and afixed a ridiculous plastic face shield, then zipped through security to join Group 2 on the plane. Our flight was smooth, and we landed at HNL at 7:30 p.m. Hawaii time.

Greg greeted us at the airport and whisked us to our rental lodging, a spacious, pool-equipped house in southeast Honolulu’s quiet Niu Peninsula neighborhood. He’d kindly pre-ordered for us a fantastic takeout dinner of super-fresh poke, marinated tofu, and pickled veggies, and somehow there was already plenty of excellent chocolate in the house. We all enjoyed dinner and a chat, and sorted ourselves into roommate configurations; then Roman, Trevor, and I borrowed Greg’s Mini to pick up a few groceries. (I dropped yogurt, almonds, and an enormous fresh pineapple in our cart, while R and T gathered a bounty of local snacks: chocolate-coated mochi crackers, locally grown coffee, macadamia-nut ice cream, and multiple interesting salty/crunchy morsels to try.) Once back at the house, we unloaded our treats, and scooted off toward bed.

(Note: Takeout from seemingly any Hawaiian liquor store or mini-market is often equally delicious to swanky-restaurant fare on the mainland. Our group developed a serious obsession with the musubi selection at the nearby 7-11.)

Here are some images from our trip. More coming in the upcoming weeks …

snack stop between Manoa factory and Manoa farm on Oahu

Paula holding a half pod at the Manoa farm

Sunset at the Manoa farm (led by Max)

Lori and Trevor “helping” at Lydgate

(Mahalo to our kind hosts and knowledgeable guides; with special thanks to Dylan at Manoa Chocolate, Will of Lydgate Farms, and Dan at Ku’ia Estate.)

Celebrating Snooky’s Tenth Year at Dandelion

September 27, 2022 by

Ten years ago Snooky first came to our small factory on Valencia Street to help us with an electrical-machine mystery that no one could solve. His much-needed consultancy quickly evolved into a decade-long relationship whose anniversary we celebrate today. Formally, Snooky says his title is “Director of Engineering, or Engineering Director, who knows? We have a Latin phrase that we use here — and I’m guessing it’s used everywhere else — which maybe applies, which is factotum; which is, you know, someone who does it all. And so I may in fact be Dandelion’s technical factotum.”

So Snooky, let’s do introductions. Tell us a bit about you!

I have an ongoing love affair with nature. A part of that love affair is love of human ingenuity, human abilities, and creative expression. If I am good at anything it is being able to appreciate and admire what others are capable of. I like living in a state of “Wow.” I find working with materials — natural ones: metal, stone, wood — and sophisticated ones: machines, circuits, tools — extremely satisfying, especially when creating something of use and beauty. I enjoy the physicality of much of the work I do: heavy lifting, smithing, and hewing, as well as the subtler physicality of precision work like milling and boring and fitting and welding and the like. Chocolate is a thinking space for me. I like to muse about the metamorphosis from bean to mouth. All the steps involved in the transformation. The crafting.

Going back ten years, what was your first experience at Dandelion?

I was there to offer a boost. The Cocoatowns and Selmi weren’t quite up to speed. The space was so far from the building’s main electrical room that what measured 208 volts at its origin arrived at 202; not enough to give the machines what they needed to work their magic.

What struck me most about my first encounter with Dandelion at the (original) Dogpatch (location) was the feeling of abundant happiness in the space, everywhere in the space. My experience of all present (I think there were six, maybe eight, Dandelions at the time, depending on whom you count) was one of warmth and welcome. What began as a friendly professional service response to a cry for help quickly went from offering a simple electrical boost to figuring out how to stick around because something special was happening. “Hey, can I build a new winnower?”

So, did you build the winnower?

Yes, so they had a winnower which is the machine that uses air to separate the husk from the nib. And it had some black plastic pipe, it had a vibrating back massager, and it had a little hair dryer and plenty of duct tape … Upon seeing that I asked them, I said, “Would you like to build a real one?” And so, in a very short period of time, maybe less than two weeks, I’d come back and in a day and a half, we built a winnower which until a couple of years ago was in use at Dandelion, and more than enough cocoa had gone through that to produce two million bars. So we kind of whipped this machine together and it just ran and ran and ran.

How did you do it?

Well, I think it’s a thinking process, right? It’s part observation. Understanding some of the fundamental principles of how things work and how things don’t work and then considering the look and feel. One of the things that is important for Dandelion is an aesthetic. And not just that things are pretty but also that they are, let’s say true and honest. Which is, if it needs to be a pipe, then we allow it to be a pipe, we don’t cover it up. So the idea is to make the design itself and the object that we’re creating expressive so that there’s nothing to hide. And I’d say that’s a design philosophy or language or ethos that applies all around to Dandelion.

Speaking of which, there are some of your fingerprints at our 16th Street factory …

It’s probably not easily read by the average visitor here because it’s not something people look at all the time, but it was actually quite difficult to accomplish all the energy-delivery needs — so compressed air, hot water, electricity; and also mechanical conveyance of beans from the bean room to roasters and so on — in a way that was functional, that was legal, that was safe, and that looked intentional and thoughtful. So those were two important words in this. We had a stream of inspectors come in and photograph this wall of exposed stainless steel conduits. Not just because it’s pretty but because it’s notoriously difficult to bend, and I developed a small machine to make these exact bends that have come out (as) beautiful.

We all know you are a man of many skills. Do you have any hidden talents?

I have a long history of making things and figuring out how to make things. So sometimes, (when) making the workshop and the apparatus in order to make a product, the product becomes sort of the smallest part of the whole process. Years ago I started to explore metal casting for making jewelry and other things — small architectural features. Door handles and things like that. And of course I didn’t buy all the equipment to do that; I built or repurposed equipment to start learning how to do investment casting (casting) and lost wax casting.

Is there any of that in the factory today?

Not from casting, but almost all of the metal work, door handles, and so on, we actually made here on site: all the door handles (and they are quite big). We have doors that are more than three meters tall and more than a meter wide … We built all of those on site. They are somewhere in the neighborhood of between 280 and 450 kilograms. So that was a large-scale metal-working operation. Large-scale weldments and assemblies. I had a very small crew. A core group of four people, five including myself, with varying levels of skills and various skill sets, and I think we did a very good job. We created things that would’ve been difficult to outsource and we did it in such a way that we could make a prototype, show it to people, have them feel it; like, you know, get a grip on it, look at it, and say “Yes” — and then the next day have fifteen more produced and ready to install. So it was literally design-build in the moment.

Any special shoutouts?

Is it shoutouts to people within Dandelion who are involved in this process, or just general shoutouts like to the Dalai Lama? (laughs)

(laughs) Whatever you prefer!

In terms of Snooky’s contribution here at Dandelion, there are two people in my life who come to mind. One is my maternal grandmother, who was exceedingly patient with me from the time I was four years old and sitting at a kitchen table while I took things apart and put them back together no matter how long it took. And the other is an uncle who wasn’t really an uncle (he was my paternal grandfather’s brother-in-law; we called him Uncle Koch).

Three things about Uncle Koch: (1) When he would come to visit he would give me a dollar — a whole dollar — if I could answer, it didn’t have to be a correct answer, but if I could give a thoughtful answer to a science kind of question. (2) For holidays, birthdays for instance, he would give me things that were broken. And support me in fixing them. Encourage me to fix it, leaving me to my own in fixing it. (3) And then on visits to his very spartan flat in Hayes Valley, he would have all manner of salvaged stuff, little colored glass beads, and pieces of tile. And he would set me loose and I could make whatever I wanted to make.

So I had one person who was very patient with me exploring the physical, mechanical, interactive world of mechanisms, and the other person who fostered unconstrained, undirected creativity by giving me this space and some materials and saying nothing. So two very special shoutouts to those people in my life.

(Also), a shoutout to someone who’s no longer with Dandelion, a man named Victor Zapanta, who should be nominated for sainthood — maybe double-sainthood! … talk about talented. His level of dedication, and the alacrity with which he took to projects, and his love and appreciation for the opportunity to create, and be involved in a special project, was really inspiring for me — so a very big shoutout to Vic.

Happy tenth Dandyversary, Snooky, and thank you for all you’ve created!

Emperors, Chocolates, and Notes in Passing

February 13, 2022 by

In a previous life, among the trappings of a tiny shop in Manhattan’s West Village, I stocked glass vases and galvanized steel buckets with all manner of floral delights, and prepared wild-looking bouquets to order for local residents. Each year, just prior to February 14th, we’d break our rule of “no red roses — too cliché” and stock up on precisely that cliché, as a surefire way to capture sales for last-minute Valentine’s Day gifts. We were fortunate to entertain a diverse and eclectic clientele the year ’round, but, in this particular moment, and always up til and past closing time on the 13th, there was a predictable, reliable influx of customers buying flowers and chocolate for their romantic partners. We’d assist and suggest and coach and almost always save the day for folks caught up in the rush of a holiday tradition seemingly thrust upon them.

As we once again approach the most chocolate-y holiday, arguably, of the year, we thought it would be fun to explore the current trends, a few of the clichés, and a bit of the history behind gifting chocolate on Valentine’s Day. Many of us are at least somewhat familiar with the tale of St. Valentine: a priest imprisoned and sentenced to death for his crimes, namely, performing marriage ceremonies for soldiers in defiance of an emperor who thought warriors were better off in battle if they were “unfettered” by romantic associations. As he departed his cell for the last time, the priest left a farewell note for the jailer’s daughter (a woman he had helped to heal and subsequently befriended). His card was signed, simply, “Your Valentine.” History is fuzzy as to who exactly inspired this story, but the legend survives, as good legends do, and Valentine has since been associated with the message, the card, the gift, and the love.

Love in defiance of an emperor … is there anything better?

Luckily, most mid-February observances these days don’t involve imprisonment, execution, or imperial decree, and the notes we pass are, perhaps, less urgent. That said, shouldn’t we endeavor always to write to those we care about as though we may never again have the chance?

When I was in grade school, the exchanges were somewhat less poetic: perforated sheets of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle cards with hearts and quasi-romantic sentiments, Hershey’s kisses and sickly sweet foil-wrapped chocolate hearts from the other Big Chocolate machines. Shortly thereafter, it was the ubiquitous Whitman’s Sampler clogging the aisles of CVS (my first job). As I began my haphazard journey into dating — is there another way to venture forth? — I graduated to slightly more expensive chocolate and arguably “better” Valentine cards, usually sans Ninja Turtles. In any case, and at least in the very small world that was my corner of suburban Massachusetts, the overarching message seemed to be that Valentine’s Day was a holiday where “men bought women (a fairly predictable box of) chocolate.” As my world grew bigger, I found that this distillation often brought eye-rolls at best and downright scorn at worst. It’s certainly a fairly narrow view toward gift-giving, and relationships, and romance, and the intersection of it all … not to mention the chocolate! From whence comes this narrative?!

I reached out to craft chocolate expert and culture aficionado, Megan Giller, of Chocolate Noise, for her take:

Over the past 80 years, big chocolate companies have worked hard to make chocolate the perfect gift for Valentine’s, in particular creating a tradition where men give women chocolate. I’ve even read marketing materials from the 1940s and 1950s where executives talk specifically about gifting, and focusing on women (and gifts for women) as their target.

From the early 20th century on, Rowntree (a British brand) ran advertisements directed toward men for Black Magic chocolate boxes and Dairy Box chocolates. Here’s one for Dairy Box:

“Spend a lucky shilling

On giving her a treat

A DAIRY BOX of lovely chocs

Will keep your ‘Sweetie’ sweet!” 

Note the conflation of women with sweetness, and that it’s intended to convince men to buy chocolate for women.

This is, perhaps, not quite as sinister as pitching cigarettes as cool accessories to hook young smokers through television and film inclusions, but the approach is still problematic, serving to underscore gender stereotypes, and enforcing the notion that men have an obligation to buy for their women, in a somewhat impersonal and possessive way, to earn or maintain their affection. Of course, love is love, and great chocolate should ideally flow in all directions, from all parties, without expectation of any kind of “return on investment.”

We’re quite lucky to have a direct line to a part of the world where Valentine’s gifting takes a bit of a different turn. I reached out to Yuki Yamagata at Dandelion Chocolate Japan for her view of local traditions and Dandelion’s involvement in chocolate gifting practices, posing the following questions:

What is your understanding of traditions around gifting chocolate in Japan at Valentine’s Day?

For teenagers, Valentine’s Day used to be a romantic day where girls express their feelings to boys! When I was a high-schooler, one of my friends received a chocolate gift from an unknown girl who had a crush on him, on the way to his school. How cute is that?

For professionals, it used to be a (possibly, at least for me) a problematic day — where female employees are expected to give chocolate to male employees.

(Yuki is referencing the common tradition of ‘Giri Choco’ or ‘Obligation Chocolate’.) 

In exchange for Giri chocolate, female employees are gifted back from male employees for something on the [more recently adopted] White Day on March 14th. It could be a measurement of how popular you are as a professional in the company team. It’s also cute to see chocolate gifting happening in families, too. Little daughters give chocolate to their dads, like Father’s Day.

How have traditions/customs shifted in recent years and where are things headed?

I’m not sure if teenage girls give chocolate to boys nowadays. In professional situations, it has been changing and I rarely hear about chocolate gifting from female employees to male employees. Instead, I hear many ladies buy chocolate for themselves or for their girlfriends to thank them for their friendship. You will see lots of female customers at the Valentine’s gift fair. Gift giving to romantic partners is still happening, too. 

How has Dandelion Chocolate Japan been involved with and impacted by Valentine’s Day gifting?

February is one of our busiest months, however our chocolate is not red, heart-shaped chocolate, and not affordable for Giri chocolate. I feel like people who select us for Valentine’s Day gifts are more enjoying chocolate itself than celebrating Valentine’s Day. 

In a perfect world, we’re simply targeting people who love craft chocolate, and the only behavior we’d like to encourage is that they give it to anyone and everyone they care about! We are spoiled to stand amongst so many fine and admirable craft chocolate makers these days, and it’s no great evil if, by custom, we give and eat a bit more of the good stuff than usual at certain times of the year. As a means to say “I Love You,” chocolate provides a magical end. From my window on this ever-changing world, the only obligation we should honor is the one to say “You Are Appreciated” when we mean it, while we have the time to do it.