Newsletter Vol. 1 - August 1, 2025

A Brief History of Cold Things That Betrayed Me

Photo of a freezer with a sign that reads “Ice Cream Sold Out”

The first freezer died last year. You might remember it—it was up front, tall and glossy, humming like it knew what it was doing. One day it was full of frozen custard. Next, it was just a monument to my optimism.

I had two people out to look at it. The first gave it a pep talk and a puff of compressed air. The second fiddled with the control panel as if he were unlocking nuclear codes. Didn’t help. Just made it angrier. We eventually swapped a part, and now it holds at fridge temperature. Great for lemons. Useless for frozen dreams.

So I moved everything—ice cream, ice, all the frozen essentials—into the back chest freezer. It was colder than polite society and so overloaded that digging out a single container felt like dumpster diving in a snowbank. Inconvenient. Undignified. But it worked.
Until last week—when that one died, too. No noise. No drama. Just a quiet puddle and the smell of dairy betrayal.

So yeah. We are, for now, out of ice cream.

But we do have cold packs and ice again, thanks to a tiny portable freezer that’s currently holding on like a caffeinated intern. Until it doesn’t.

But not out of dessert. Not even close. Or determination.

Here’s What We Do Still Have

quadruple chocolate brownies – White, milk, dark, and cocoa powder.

tartlettes – Lime, chocolate cream, and seasonal fruit.
truffles, toffee, macarons, cakes, eclairs – The full lineup.
imported bars + local sourdough – Because carbs are coping.
If you come in looking for frozen custard and leave with four brownies and an unsolicited art critique, I consider that a win.

Lab Lessons: Brownies, Humidity, and the Gospel of Gooey

A aerial photo of a sheet pan of brownies studded with pieces of chocolate

Humidity ruins a lot of things. Tempered chocolate. Sugar work. Hair.

But not brownies. Brownies eat humidity for breakfast.

When the air gets sticky and everything else in the kitchen gives up, the brownies just lean in. Cocoa pulls moisture from the air like it has a grudge. Sugar dissolves into butter, floats to the top, and bakes into that glossy crust. And under that? Dense, dark, unbothered chew.

Brownies don’t break under pressure.
They just get better.

What Hasn’t Melted: My Ethics

We use Valrhona for about 90% of our chocolate. It’s a French B-Corp with enough sourcing transparency to make your spreadsheet blush. The rest comes from República del Cacao, which trades directly with farmers in Ecuador and makes chocolate that tastes like rainforest poetry.

I’ve always believed chocolate should taste good and do good. That hasn’t changed. Even if the freezers did.

First Friday Art Walk - Tonight

A photo of an originial painting of a bear holding an ice cream cone

For the past five years, our shop has doubled as a gallery for two artists whose work feels like it was born to sit next to a tartlette:

Laurel Bahe – Joyful, warm, slightly mischievous. Think: your childhood dreams if they had better color palettes.

Lorraine Danzo – Vivid, wild, and gloriously unpredictable. If chaos wore lipstick and painted feelings, it would be her.

They’ve been with us longer than most appliances. And unlike our freezers, they still work beautifully.

So yes—come for the chocolate. But stay for the walls. They’ve seen things.

Recipe: Therapy in Sauce Form

AKA. Milk Chocolate Fudge Sauce

Ingredients:

100g of Valrhona Satilia Milk Chocolate (because Caramelia ghosted us)
2 tbsp of Valrhona Cocoa Powder
2/3 cup of heavy cream
1 tbsp of butter
1 tsp of vanilla
2 big pinches of salt
Optional: swirl in dulce de leche if your week’s been That Kind™

Method:
Heat the cream, cocoa, and sugar until it simmers and passive-aggressively threatens to boil over.
Take it off the heat. Stir in the chopped Satilia chocolate like you’re making peace with the universe. Add the butter and vanilla. Stir again. Pretend everything’s fine.

It thickens as it cools.
Drizzle it on brownies. Pour it on ice cream. If your freezer’s dead and your soul is tired, dump it in your morning coffee like a coping mechanism. You’re welcome.

Featured Chocolate: Loon Chocolate (Limited Batch)

A photo of three chocolate bars by Loon Chocolate

Founded by former craft brewer Scott Watson, New Hampshire’s Loon Chocolate makes small-batch bars that favor bold ingredients, minimal fuss, and actual flavor over marketing fluff. These aren’t novelty bars. They’re culinary decisions.

Here’s what’s in:

Chaga Chai 70% – Chaga, a birch-dwelling fungus high in antioxidants and traditionally used for immune support, brings earthy bitterness and structure. Paired with masala chai spice, it’s grounding and warming—like forest tea spiked with dark chocolate.
The Ghost and the Sea 70% – Ghost pepper and sea salt. Capsaicin delivers a clean, escalating heat that’s been studied for anti-inflammatory and metabolism-boosting effects. Starts savory, ends spicy. Excellent with bourbon or bold opinions.
Lion’s Mane 70% – Long used in Chinese cooking and now studied for compounds that may support memory and nerve health. Adds a subtle savory depth, more mushroom than medicine—complex, clean, and deeply snackable.

Limited batch. No shortcuts. Only available in the store, unfortunately, because I’m too busy putting out freezer dumpster fires (not literally, or that would explain why it’s not staying cold).

Notes from the Kitchen

A photo of Hunter Germeroth at Cacao Chemistry making raspberry bark

The chocolate lab has gone feral. We’re deep into truffle trials—half science experiment, half emotional breakdown. First, a miso-vanilla caramel truffle that tastes like your sweet tooth just ran off to Tokyo and eloped with an umami bomb.

Next up: matcha and honey, the kind of delicate combination that makes you question all your past decisions (including that green tea candle you thought was a reflection of your personality).

Then there’s a quinoa-almond crunch truffle—yes, puffed “keen-wah” (that grain your dad still can’t pronounce), and yes, it works. Think high-brow Ferrero Rocher with a gym membership.

And because we’re gluttons for punishment, we’re crafting a couple of vegan truffles too. No dairy. No mercy. TBD.

In the meantime, we’re here. Still baking. Still standing. Just...without ice cream.

For now.

A humorous photo of a broken chest freezer with a drawing of a tombstone on it

Come In Hungry

(Because the survivors are still worth eating.)

-Sam

Chocolate Handler, Freezer Survivor,
Probably Writing This Covered in Ganache

The freezers died. I didn’t.