Coming back home…
2023: All I Ever Wanted
2023 was not even close to what I expected, but it turned out to be everything I ever wanted.
In 2022, we decided it was time for Cru Chocolate to grow beyond the home kitchen. After five years and over 40 visits to commercial spaces across Northern California—from Alta to Davis—I finally found a spot in Roseville. It had everything I dreamed of: charm, history, high ceilings, space, and proximity to home. It felt like the perfect place to bring Cru to life.
But dreams come at a price. The space, while perfect in theory, wasn’t equipped to become a food facility. Still, in a moment of blind entrepreneurial optimism, thinking I can turn straw into Gold; I signed the lease. It felt like welcoming a newborn—not just any newborn, but one that’s deeply wanted, eagerly awaited, and full of potential. We poured hours into building Cru. Friends joined in, lending hands, excitement, and energy. We spent money, we shared meals, and for a while, it felt like magic—until it didn’t.
Then came the permits. I still remember the city inspector standing there, notebook in hand, explaining all the reasons the building didn’t meet code. At that moment, I knew—you can’t fight City Hall. I terminated the lease, packed everything into storage, and took a step back. It wasn’t giving up; it was pride. And, oh, how much I still have to learn about letting that go.
The disappointment was sharp, but it brought clarity. It was the perfect moment to reconnect with what I truly wanted. I wrote it down on a piece of paper:
I want Cru to be a drinking chocolate company.
I want our chocolate made in Central America.
I want to be a one-product company (we had 27 at the time).
Simplicity has its beauty, and all I wanted for Cru was to make something beautiful. I made calls, and within a week, I found partners in Central America to make our chocolate. The support I felt from the farmers and the people we’ve worked with over the years is something I’ll hold dearly. I remember sitting on the warehouse floor, overwhelmed with emotion, wondering what Cru would become if we stopped roasting cacao, if we no longer shipped raw beans across the ocean, if I didn’t wrap every bar myself. Wasn’t all that work what made it special?
Then, a calm voice within me said, Cru will transform because you will transform. At that moment, I felt Cru giving me the compassion I didn’t know I needed. I know it’s strange to think of a business as an entity that can respond or reciprocate, but that’s what it felt like. I realized that Cru wasn’t just a business license or a balance sheet; it was all the people who have come into my life through it.
Once you see the truth, it’s hard not to feel it deeply. I let the emotions flow—because I do love the drama of unraveling tangled thoughts—but after a good cry, the next steps became clear. This is what I had always wanted.
But doubt has its way of sneaking in. For me, it comes in the voice of Rumpelstiltskin—a familiar, predictable voice that has long served as the head of my imaginary “consejo.” How do you know what you really want? it teased. That factory was everything you thought you wanted too. But now you want something else? You can’t break a deal, dearie.
With the resilience of a mushroom and más huevos que una iguana, I replied, I guess we’ll find out.
And after that, everything fell into place. It took 18 months, but now our chocolate is made back home in Central America, where it’s more sustainable. We’ve cut emissions, reduced waste, and stopped transporting 15% of cacao mass that never becomes chocolate—it’s just the shell of the cacao. I worried about how the farmers would feel, but when I told them, they said, We always wondered how you managed to make chocolate—it’s so much work. We don’t blame you for letting it go. It’s just like farming.
In that moment, I understood something profound: What we love understands us. The Love we Gave, Transforms and comes back as understanding. So learning to Fail prepares us to Pay back.
Cru is growing into its next phase—a one-product company focused on drinking chocolate, made where it’s meant to be made. My vision is clearer, my purpose sharper. And as for Rumpelstiltskin? He still whispers, You can’t outrun your past.
But I answer, I’m just slowly walking back home.