Years after my mom immigrated to Montréal and eventually settled in Houston, my mother wasn't looking to start a business. She simply missed the confections she had grown up with.

During Passover, surrounded by pistachios, walnuts, and the marzipan recipe her mother had taught her, she wondered if chocolate could become part of that tradition. That simple question led to another, then another.

She taught herself to temper chocolate through books, countless experiments, and plenty of mistakes. Friends began asking her to make chocolates for weddings and celebrations. What started as a hobby slowly became something much bigger.

Eventually, she traveled back to Montréal to study chocolate professionally, giving her the confidence to build what would become the chocolate side of our family's business.

People often ask what makes our chocolate different. The answer isn't one ingredient or one technique.

It's intentionality.

Every filling begins from scratch. We roast our own nuts because different varieties produce different flavors. We make our own giandujas and pralines because controlling every step creates better texture. We spend weeks, sometimes months, adjusting a recipe until every layer works together exactly as intended.

Those choices aren't always the fastest. They're simply the ones we believe produce the best chocolate.

That philosophy didn't begin with us. It began with my grandmother insisting almonds should be peeled by hand because quality was worth the extra effort.