I first learned how to make molded chocolates when I was in Girl Guides, when I would have been maybe 10 or 11 years old. One of our leaders brought us to the Salvation Army Citadel, melted Wilton candy melts, and showed us how to paint the shells, fill them with dulce de leche or peanut butter, and then cap them. I loved it. I knew the secret of how they got the caramel in the Caramilk bar! (At least theoretically, anyway. The depositing machines they use in mass production have eliminated a few steps.)
Not long after, I started making chocolates at home by myself. The place to buy chocolate molds and candy melts back then was a local religious book and bible shop, strangely enough. You could also get candy melts at a local bulk store. I don't know if I used my allowance or if my parents indulged me and purchased everything for me; either way, I had the basics. And I remember vividly the night that I made dulce de leche by simmering a can of sweetened condensed milk for two hours. I sat in the kitchen at our breakfast table reading a book and "watching" the pot the entire time. And sure enough, like magic, when I opened it the most delicious filling awaited (we ate some of it on ice cream, some of it on its own with a spoon).
A few years after that, while in junior high school, I had a bit of an entrepreneurial streak -- not surprising, considering Trooper Ron (my dad) is an entrepreneur. Always a crafty type, I made Christmas ornaments to sell, both at the local flea market on a Sunday during the holiday season and by special order (a teacher took samples into the staff room for her colleagues to see). To differentiate myself at the flea market and secure a table, which was surprisingly difficult back in its heyday, I also sold hand-made chocolates.
Of course, with broad interests, I moved on to other things. Music became more important as I prepared to audition for music school and then a path emerged leading me into grad school and academia. Over the years, I've maintained my love of crafting, making chocolates, and baking, but I didn't really have time to devote to them in the way that I would have liked.
After moving to Sydney, I had the opportunity to take cake decorating courses at the local Michaels. That was my first taste of learning "professional" decorating techniques. And, not surprisingly, I loved it. I was also good at it -- especially making flowers from gum paste (my most recent project was a Beauty and the Beast cake for a local library fundraiser). I also became addicted to Pinterest and started trying out the various recipes I found there. I even made a giant peanut butter cup for a friend for her birthday (still the most epic dessert I've made). The more I did, the more I wondered how my life would be different if I'd gone into culinary arts instead of music. I also started joking to friends and family that if this PhD thing didn't work out, I was going to move home and open a bakery.
Then about a year ago, I started looking into the possibility of retraining to be a pastry chef and/or baker. Not ready to make a leap, I sought out part-time programs. That's when I stumbled upon an online professional chocolatier program in British Columbia. After several months of deliberation and physiotherapy and chiropractic adjustments to combat back issues caused by my desk job, I had a December that really made me question what I wanted out of life. Home for the holidays with my family, I began seriously considering how to choreograph a move home. Could chocolate be the answer? I talked to a few close friends, who were very supportive of the idea, I mentioned it to my mother, who couldn't see a reason not to do it, and I even chatted with a fellow I'd met on a dating site, but never in person (he was incredibly encouraging). And on December 20th, throwing caution to the wind and my credit card at an online payment system, I registered for the January 2018 start. That's when chocolate crystals started to align.
I woke up the next morning and opened the virtual advent calendar a friend had given me for Christmas. I clicked on the bulb marked "21" and that day's game opened -- a memory game based on a box of chocolates. My task was to match the bonbons as quickly as possible. A sign from the universe?
I chatted with a friend via facebook and mentioned that my first task when I got back to Sydney would be to find someone with a marble counter or pastry board that I could use for the tempering assignment. To my surprise, she told me she had a board I could use.
Friends from across the country and around the world showed support for the idea when I posted it online.
When I returned from Sydney and opened my Christmas presents from one of my best friends, I found a new marble pastry board was already in my apartment waiting for me.
As I began the program last week, I started having ideas for flavour combinations and decorating techniques. The creative part of the program that I was nervous about was coming to me easily. And I even woke up one morning with the name for my business.
Generally, since signing up for this program, I've had bright and positive days, except for some questioning by a friend on Sunday, which kicked me back a few notches (that sort of questioning can be difficult to hear but is productive if it causes you to really think about what you're doing and why). And then yesterday when I opened my new calendar from Telus to write in my assignment due dates, there in front of me was a message from my favourite hippo: Dreaming big.
And that the precious beta 5 chocolate crystals of my life are starting to align.
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