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Our History |
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An Obsession
An Obsession —
by Dana Taylor Davenport, Third-Generation Chocolatier, Dilettante Chocolates.
Questions
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"How did you become a chocolatier?" is usually the
first question people ask me. The second one is, "Can you give me a job working as a taster?"
The idea of ‘having’ to eat chocolate for a living is titillating. The next question is usually,
"Do you ever get tired of eating chocolate?" After 25 years, I can’t remember a day without chocolate.
I still find myself looking for a truffle before bed. So I won’t deny it —I’m obsessed with chocolate.
And I am fascinated with the world’s love of chocolate.
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The Beginning
I assume that I was strongly influenced by my family — having grown up in a
happy home and surrounded by great cooks and superb candy makers all of my life.
But my decision to "carry on" the family tradition -- to become a "third-generation
chocolatier" — required compelling motivation.
Sneaky Me
As I look back, I suspect that my attraction to chocolate was inspired by many
childhood experiences. The very act of ‘sneaking’ through closets and drawers,
looking for the ten-pound brick of chocolate my dad always kept hidden for weekend
candy-making sessions had a part in shaping my passion chocolate.
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Spiritual Experiences
My mother, my grandmother and my aunts were all extraordinary cooks and bakers. We had
dessert several nights a week and always on Sunday. In fact, after church, our Sunday
meal was always so special that the dessert became an extension of the day’s spiritual
experience. For several years, my mother organized the booth for the church’s cake sale
at the Walla Walla County Fair. Even at the age of four, I remember crawling under the
tables, scraping up my knees on the sawdust, and peeking from underneath the long paper
table cloths until I spied my favorite slice of cake — which was always chocolate.
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Fond Memories of My Dad
I also remember holding my dad’s hand as we walked to town on Saturdays. When the occasion
warranted, he would take me for a treat at Rodel’s Soda Shop. Rodel’s had pink interior
walls and counter tops. My dad would buy me a fresh-baked cream puff, frosted with a shiny,
chocolate glaze. To this day I love the smell of eggs baking in batter.
Around Christmas, for special occasions, my dad would pull out the sacred marble
slab. It was mostly used for making fudges and crèmes. But the butter-toffee was
the most memorable. After the molten sugar and butter was poured onto the slab,
it had to sit on the marble overnight until it properly "mellowed." Only when it
was tender and flinty (the result of graining in the air) could it be dipped in chocolate.
Imagine the anticipation.
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My Grandpa: The Confectioner
Then there was Grandpa Davenport. His visits are indelibly embedded in my mind. He would drive
up in a long, white station wagon, and before he made it to the front door, I would sneak
out of the back of the house — making my way to his car. I remember crawling around the back
of his “traveling confectionary” poking through his boxes of flavorings and chocolate-covered
marzipan. His car was intoxicating. It never took me long to search out the single-most
cherished prize of them all: Grandpa’s Ephemere Truffle. He only put two of these special
morsels in each of his store-packed gift boxes. Unfortunately, it was everyone’s favorite.
Imagine. We were seven children, and our grandpa would leave us only one box.
Confectioner’s Cuttings
When my dad was in the mood to share this one particular confection, it became a very solemn
ceremony. If we were lucky, just before bedtime we would be summoned to join our dad around
our big, oak dining-room table. I can still remember the soft light over the tablecloth. He
would take out his little pocket knife (I can still see the blade) and meticulously slice thin
wedges of truffle which we, in turn, would carefully slip off the blade with our waiting, little,
index fingers. Torture or treat? Either way, I knew then that I had to learn to make these
confections -- so that I would never again have to share a single truffle with my six siblings!
My First Success
My mother died when I was quite young so my dad had to employ a housekeeper to help care for the
family. By the time I was in high school, my dad hired a woman by the name of Fanny Anderson who was
a professionally-trained cook. Those were the days of Chicken a la King and pot roast with mounds
of mashed potatoes and the most excellent gravies – and she loved to bake. She was willing to take
the time to really show me how to bake. She shared with me the secrets of creaming butter and sugar
while carefully adding each egg -- one egg at a time. Fanny encouraged me to enter my first baking
competition at Ingraham High. I baked an orange and chocolate-marble cake with fudgy frosting and
won first place. I was famous. I was popular. I was hooked.
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My formal training began with Marcel of the Swiss
Pastry Shop. He was Seattle’s most eminent baker of the day. His courses began with bread and
paté a chou and advanced through puff pastry. Marcel had a special cool-room confectionery where
he melted chocolate and dipped his truffles. It was there that I met Marie Hall of legendary
Cecil Hall's candy. Marie shared some wonderful formulas with me and eventually came out of
retirement to become my first chocolate dipper. She was past 80 years old at the time, and her
chocolate signatures were legendary.
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European Travels
Before college, I lived in Switzerland for two years and ate more chocolate, I suppose, than most
people could consume in a lifetime. I have toured chocolate factories from Russia to Budapest,
Helsinki to Brugge and I have visited the cacao fields of Hawaii. Friends send me chocolate
from all over the world, (the latest was from Cuba). Over the years I remain fascinated with
the allure of chocolate. And given the developments and improvements in the world of cacao agriculture
and manufacturing, I do not see chocolate boredom setting in any time soon. So what more can
I say about my obsession?
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It’s the Memories
"Chocolatiering," for me, is about eating, sneaking, sharing and having fun.
It is about aromas and textures and ever-changing combinations. It is about
weddings and birthdays and Christmas time with cocao, coffee and sticky buns.
I have seen the happy faces of children taking their first bite of chocolate,
and I have watched dear friends take their last bite of chocolate. In the end,
it is about memories — and marking the moment. Yes, chocolate is my obsession,
and it’s a great one.
— Dana Taylor Davenport
Forever a Chocolatier
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