The business of cooking: How Eutopian Chocolates made a market for marshmallows

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[This article is part of a series. If you like it, click here for the story of Salsa Senorita.]

Like many food businesses, Eutopian Chocolates was more or less founded by accident. After years of working 50-plus-hour weeks and traveling often for her job, Sherry Smith-Noble was tired. She scaled back to part-time and started down her to-do wish list, which included learning to make marshmallows. Friends loved them, asked if they could buy them, and a business was born.

So how did Sherry's gourmet marshmallows end up in stores? Here's an inside look at the growth of her business.

Why marshmallows? The candy market is saturated. Even in Grand Rapids, where Sherry lives and runs her business, there are many local candy businesses. That's why she chose to focus on a niche product. She started with a recipe she found online, then experimented with flavors: strawberry, orange, mint, lavender, chai, coffee (one of her best sellers). At this point she's sticking with a small set of flavors as she learns to balance her inventory.

Going commercial: When it came time to find a commercial kitchen, there were lots of choices. Restaurants that go belly-up often rent out their kitchens after closing their doors, but those are expensive, and Sherry didn't need that much space. She ended up in her commercial kitchen through a friend of a friend. It's small, but there's room to grow.The best part of her work kitchen: industrial baking racks, storage, and the chocolate tempering machine (I want one of those too!).

Unpleasant surprises: Eutopian's December 2008 sales were through the roof. Sherry thought she had it made. And then came January - nothing. She hadn't anticipated the holiday bump. That's when she started looking for retail outlets who would carry her products year-round. She looks for upscale shops, and based on their feedback she's changed her packaging, portion sizes, etc.

Marketing: Lots of word of mouth, particularly from locals who find her products in their regular shops. All the shops in which she sells came via referral. She also does wedding favors, which bring in large chunks of cash and help spread the word about her products. Her company name had marketing implications, too - she purposely left "marshmallow" out of the name, in case she decides to branch out later. But her secret sauce (no pun intended) is her husband, who works as a marketing director and has helped tremendously with that aspect of building a business. And he works for free. (Or for marshmallows.)

The future: New flavors, new retail outlets, building her online sales. But Sherry is taking it slow. The business is self-funded, so she's careful about hiring (she uses temps during crush periods) and investing in expensive equipment. She's hoping word of mouth will help her grow organically.

For more information about Eutopian Chocolates or to order online, visit www.eutopianchocolates.com.

What do to with a pound of black summer truffles

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This week marks my shift from avid home cook to truly obsessive foodie, courtesy of the summer black truffle. And Kelly Orange at Specialty Produce is my enabler.

On Thursday, Kelly called to say that she had a pound of Italian black summer truffles for me, at a very good price. I said: Oh yes. At 6:30am yesterday, I was in a Carl's Jr. parking lot near the La Cienega exit of the 10 freeway. I pulled up next to a white pickup. Both engines were running. I opened my window; he handed me a small brown box. To anyone else, I'm sure it looked like a drug deal. I drove home with my goods, put them in the refrigerator. And started planning the party.

An aside here: I am so lucky to be married to my husband. I imagine that most men, should their wives call and breathlessly tell them they've just spent a bundle on truffles, would say one of two things. One: "Are you nuts?" Or two: "That's nice, dear." Whereas Michael said: "That's fantastic! Who's on the list?" Because, of course, at that point the party was implied, a given. That's my husband - always happy to be throwing the party. For which, among other things, I love him dearly.

But what to do with said truffles? For the, um, let's see, close to 30 people coming to share the bounty? (Note: Many people will cancel existing plans in order to attend a truffle party.)

I started by soliciting some professional advice, which I compiled into an article for my LA Cooking Examiner column (read it here). Truffles seem to have some common and willing companions: eggs, potatoes, pasta, rice. It's best to pair truffles with bland backgrounds, so the earthy-muddy flavor of the truffles can shine. I love the recipe for tagliatelle with black truffle sauce I got from Alex Palermo, the owner of Cube Cafe & Marketplace on La Brea - just pounded truffles, oil and garlic, nothing else. The simpler, the better.

Professional tips in hand, I set out to make a menu for tomorrow's Trufflepalooza. So far it looks like this:

• Tartines with truffle butter and thinly sliced radishes (see the recipe here)
  
• Crostini with fresh ricotta, honey, thyme and shaved truffles

I would like to note here that yes, I do know that tartines and crostini are essentially the same thing: toast. But one combination is traditionally French, the other very Italian. Thus the semi-pretentious nomenclature.

• Truffled egg salad
• Roasted potato "chips" with fontina and shaved truffles
• Truffled fresh corn pudding
  
• Spaghetti with butter, cream, Parmigiano-Reggiano and grated truffles
• Filet mignon bites with truffle butter
• Emery's salad with truffle vinaigrette, pancetta and grated truffles
• Truffle honey ice cream with fresh figs

I think that should use up a pound of truffles.

I can't wait for the party - and yes, I'll post lots of photos.

Recipe: Zucchini ribbons with basil

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This is the story of a perfect vegetable dish on an imperfect day.

I don't actually remember why the day was imperfect. It was this week sometime, and I was hot. I'd just come home from work, what felt like a long day. My shoulders were tight and my hands were sore and my eyes burned from too many hours at a desk, staring at a computer. My kids, clean and tired after their day at camp on the beach, were watching TV like zombies. My wonderful husband was home, but maybe at his desk. I was in the kitchen. I was sweaty. I was feeling a little lonely. And I was starving.

I remember getting dinner started, and then, while it was cooking, going out to check the garden. I remember finding one lone zucchini that needed to be picked, twisting it off, trying to figure out if one zucchini would make enough for a batch of muffins, deciding it wouldn't. Snapping a stem of basil. Walking inside and thinking, zucchini and basil - that's enough.

I shaved the zucchini into ribbons, leaving the seeds and mushy center for the compost pile. I rolled the leaves of basil into cigarettes and sliced them into thin shreds - chiffonade, a word I love, a technique I've mastered. I sauteed the zucchini for exactly two minutes in a dab of olive oil, with a clove of crushed garlic thrown in as an afterthought. I turned the zucchini into a bowl, added the basil, ground on some salt and pepper, and showered the dish with some grated Grana Padano. So beautiful. So summer. So perfect.

And then, before dinner was even ready, I ate it. All of it. Turns out that one zucchini may not be enough for muffins, but it's enough for one very hungry person's first course. Perfect.

Recipe: Bacon and cheese quesadilla (aka dinner for a tired boy)

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I just finished pouring Weston, my seven-year-old, into bed. He spent the day asea on the boat of a school friend, and I'm not sure exactly what they did all day (because he was way too tired for details), but he came home exhausted and hungry. On a night like this, when tired and crabby walk in the door together and quickly dissolve into frustrated tears, only a bacon and cheese quesadilla will do.

You may already have read about Mirna's squash blossom quesadillas, which still rank high among our family quesadilla requests. The other day I picked two zucchini flowers from the garden and, while washing one, found a happy bumblebee stuck inside one of the blossoms. He was so content he didn't even have the energy required to sting me before I washed him down the drain. I chopped the zucchini flowers and made the boys their breakfast, and Weston went to camp with pollen on his chin.

Tonight, though, there was neither time nor impetus to head to the garden. It was dusk, the boy was melting, and every second counted. So I put together the tried and true: a fresh tortilla filled with "Mexican blend" cheese and crumbled cooked bacon. And, after it was gone, the boy shuffled slowly toward bed.

Note: Emery, my ten-year-old (ten and a half, he'd remind me to write), likes this quesadilla with a bit of hot sauce splashed in. Their dad takes it with or without.

Bacon and cheese quesadilla

• 2 flour tortillas (I buy the unbaked ones at Costco and griddle them for 30 seconds on each side in a nonstick pan)
• 1/2 cup shredded Mexican blend cheese (or substitute Monterey Jack)
• 1/4 cup crumbled cooked bacon (I use the ready-to-use stuff in the bag, also from Costco - we buy it by the dozen)

Put a tortilla in a nonstick pan over medium-high heat - you can coat the pan with cooking spray if you like, but it's not necessary, and I usually don't. Add half the cheese and half the bacon. Fold the tortilla in half and grill, pressing down with a spatula, until golden; flip and do the same on the other side. Repeat with the second tortilla. Serve immediately to two hungry boys or girls.

Recipe: Fresh peach cobbler, easier than pie

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Okay, I admit it: I am scared of pie crust. Actually, if I'm being perfectly honest, I am scared of almost anything that involves a rolling pin and floured countertops and the possibility that the dough will get tough if you work it too much. Which leaves me pretty stymied when it comes to pies, tarts, galettes, and many varieties of cookies.

Yes, I will get over this fear. At some point. But at least, for now, I always have the cobbler.

This recipe involves peaches, but the method has worked well for me with many different kinds of fruit. The bottom is easy: fruit, sugar, a little cornstarch or flour to thicken things up. The topping is a variation on a basic no-roll biscuit recipe my college roommate Ellen got from her mother for her wedding. It's an old family recipe that requires no butter, comes together in about three minutes, and can be made sweet or savory. It's one of my most treasured bits of paper.

Easy fresh peach cobbler

• 6 large or 10 small peaches, cut into chunks
• 3/4 cup sugar, divided
• 2 cups plus 3 Tbsp flour, divided
• juice of 1/2 lemon
• 2 tsp baking powder
• 1/4 tsp baking soda
• 1/8 tsp salt
• 1/3 cup canola oil (substitute melted butter if you like)
• 2/3 cup plain yogurt

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Toss the peaches with 1/4 cup sugar and 3 Tbsp flour, and the lemon juice in a bowl. Let sit about 3o minutes. Mix again, then pour into a baking dish which you've coated with cooking spray.

While the peaches are sitting, make the topping: Whisk together the remaining flour and sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt in a bowl. In a measuring cup, pour the oil and spoon in the yogurt (the oil first up to the 1/3 cup mark, then the yogurt until it reaches the 1 cup mark). Whisk them together a bit, then pour into the dry ingredients. Mix it all together with a spatula or wooden spoon. When the dough has come together, knead it a few times in the bowl with one hand.

Pinch off globs of the dough and scatter them on top of the fruit. Sprinkle with a little extra sugar if you like, or not. Bake the cobbler about 45 minutes or until the fruit is bubbling furiously and the biscuit topping is golden brown. Serve with whipped cream or ice cream, or on its own.