Minkchocolates

Bringing Home Baby

Wednesday. Skelly sends me a text and says my house looks like a marshmallow.

Recently wrapped in white Tyvek as part of an extensive renovation, I quickly deduce he’s in the park across the street from it, with his dog Dante.

I SMS him back. “Jet-Puffed or hand cut?”

As if he expects me to believe his dog has the requisite dexterity to type on such a small keyboard, he writes back “woof”.

Five months ago we moved out for a four month stint in my sisters’ basement while our ninety year old house got a makeover. Conventional wisdom be damned, we were so confident the contractor understood the exigence of our situation, we packed the new baby’s car seat in the POD with the rest of our gear and shipped it to a warehouse in Richmond.

“Baby is due in April. We’re home February. Why do we need to schlep the car seat around?” I said back when the cherry trees were dropping their leaves. Now they’re all in bud, and we’re preparing to bring our little girl home in a borrowed bucket to a room we preface with the word rumpus.

Thursday. I dash out of the Café to meet Mrs. Mink and the contractor on site and discuss timing for drywall.

“We’re loading board Monday,” he says nonchalantly. “Two weeks to tape, mud and sand. We’ll have you in by Easter.”

Ordinarily, we’re making chocolate bunnies and filled eggs and the celebrated Flat Pack Easter Egg chocolate bar on the heels of Valentine’s Day, but the holiday is late this year. Still, I take little comfort from his assurance.

I command my lovely bride to open her jacket.

“Ed. We’re not having twins! She’s so ready you may have to catch this one in the back of that shiny new F-150 I’m helping to make the payments on.”

No one laughs.

I think to myself that if I were a betting man, which I am, moving in by the Victoria Day long weekend is looking like even money.

Mrs. Mink and I reconvene on the sidewalk, out of earshot of the trades.

“All things considered, they’re doing a great job, and the house will be a wonderful place to raise our young family,” she says, noting in her iPod Touch the time and duration of an apparent contraction.

I make a mental note to bring home more chocolate.

Friday. Fred sends me a text. “Baby yet?”

I reply “No, still very much pregnant.”

He writes back, “Did you ever determine if you’re the father?”

I reply with a smiley icon.

He writes again, “Is that a yes or no or maybe”

Saturday. I take our dog back into the ‘hood to give her some face time with Dante. Friends since they were puppies, it’s game on as they start chasing each other around the tennis courts.

Skelly turns to me and says, “The neighborhood consensus is you’re back in by Labor Day.”

Just then, the carpenters show up. They’re actually going to work on the weekend. I’m so excited, I text my wife “Woot”, but instead of hitting the letter t, I press the letter right below it and it goes out as “Woof”.

Instantly she texts back, “Good doggie. And on the way home, please fetch mama more chocolate.”

Marc Lieberman

Mink Chocolates Inc.,
Mink A Chocolate Cafe Ltd.

Call the store: 604.633.2451
Call my mobile: 604.376.3464
Call toll free: 1.866.283.5181

Shop: minkchocolates.com
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In Person: 863 Hastings Street West, Vancouver, BC V6C 3N9

Nine out of every ten persons say they love chocolate. The tenth lies.
– Anthelme Brillat-Savarin

Timing is Everything

Wednesday. Dave Newson, man at large, joins me at Holt Renfrew to meet the visual display people and discuss the props available for our Valentines pop-up store. I envision chandeliers, mannequins, black velvet curtains swagged from the ceiling. They offer up a six foot table and a power bar. Dave senses my profound disappointment and assures me he’ll make it work. I skulk back to Mink and take an Advil.

Thursday. Dave pulls the two primary colors from the Mink Valentines poster, and arranges to have wide vinyl striping applied alternately on the table. He coerces them into giving up a couple of plinths with glass cubes that he’ll use to showcase my Artist Series bonbon boxes and anchor either side of the table. He pulls a graphic detail from the poster and instructs the vinyl guy to produce a band with that image in repetition that will finish off the bottom of the cubes. He confirms there is more to come.

Friday. I have one week to produce all the chocolate I’ll need for the pop-up shop, as well as the Mink store downtown and the one at Morgan Crossing. Sales volume from last year isn’t much of a predictor, as Valentines coincided with the opening ceremonies of the 2010 Olympics, and the organizing committee, Vanoc, scared the bejeezus out of everyone and implored them not to come downtown unless absolutely necessary. We still had a great holiday, albeit not entirely an accurate reflection of our potential.

What’s the mood this year? In retail, unless there are significant indicators of pending calamity, you have to be an optimist and plan for a 10% increase. But the pop-up store? It’s entirely unknown. Holts is the pinnacle of fashion retailing in Canada. I should kill, but what if I don’t? Hand filled hearts don’t have the same value the day after. I take the rest of the afternoon off to work from home.

Saturday. Mrs. Mink is planning Jr. Minks 3^rd birthday at the Sunset Community Center. The list of planned activities is long, and the guest list longer. She runs a few perfunctory details past me, knowing I’m only half paying attention. I perk up slightly when she references something about paying for it all from our joint account, but I’ll clarify that at the end of the month when the statement comes.

Sunday. I get an electronic e-vite to my son’s soiree. I open it, admire the choice of template, and click on my name. I have the option of attending for sure, attending maybe, or not attending. I choose the latter. For the benefit of all the parents of his pre-school buddies and their nannies, I feel compelled to decline with an explanation. Levi originally had a due date of February 15. Had he adhered to the schedule, I’d be having cupcakes after finger-painting. He chose to take an earlier flight, and arrived on the 13^th.

The day before Valentines, and the day of Valentines, are the two single biggest days in the chocolate business. By the time my business will allow me to party with the pre-schoolers, he’ll be in University. I go into his room and interrupt him playing with his trains. I tell him I love him and I’m sorry I won’t be at his birthday party. I try and explain that had he stayed in his womb until it was time to leave, I’d be there. He gave me one of those innocent quizzical looks he so often does, then asked if Toopy and Binoo would be there instead.

Monday. I’m stressed. Shecky texts me to say stressed backwards is dessert, and that I should have some rice pudding. Instead, I walk up to the Bentall Center and get my shoes shined. Sitting in the chair, watching my Blundstones get a new lease on life, I think back to when I’d go with my Dad on Saturday’s to get haircuts, him a shoeshine, then off to Mikes Cigar Store, where he got a stogey and I got a Dinky Toy. I couldn’t tell you anything about my birthday parties from those years, but I’ll never forget Saturdays. I call my wife and propose that going forward we celebrate the kids birthday on his due date, not his actual arrival date. Valentines will be in the books, and I won’t have to make excuses.

Marc Lieberman

Mink Chocolates Inc.,
Mink A Chocolate Cafe Ltd.

Call the store: 604.633.2451
Call my mobile: 604.376.3464
Call toll free: 1.866.283.5181

Shop: minkchocolates.com
Tweet: twitter.com/minkchocolates
Join: facebook.com/mink.chocolates
Read: blog.minkchocolates.com
Watch: youtube.com search mink chocolates
In Person: 863 Hastings Street West, Vancouver, BC V6C 3N9

February 14

Waiting for Fredot

Friday. 11:00 a.m. Fred calls and says he has tickets for the Interior Design Show at the Vancouver Convention Center and asks if I want to go. It’s taking place on the waterfront, a block away from the Café, and couldn’t be more convenient for me, so I say OK. He says he’s walking up and he’ll see me soon.

11:15 a.m. I’m thinking it will take Fred 30 minutes to make the 15 minute walk from Yaletown so I run up to the bank to get the coin order for the weekend. I get back just as my chocolate order is walking in the door. I check it in, merchandise the display shelves, update the inventory for the online store, and pull a few bars aside for dating and quality control.

1:00 p.m. Fred’s still not here, but that’s not unusual. He’s a fast walker, but he’s easily distracted. My work done, I make a coffee for myself on the Clover, and go sit outside and wait for him.

2:35 p.m. I’ve answered half a dozen emails, talked with a couple of regulars, eaten a Taj Masala, and played BrickBreaker on my BlackBerry but still no sign of Fred. I go in to get my jacket, make another cup of coffee, and go back outside.

4:10 p.m. I go to the bathroom to pee. The Café has gotten extremely busy, and with both of the opening staff now off shift, I jump in to help out. Next thing I realize, the Café is closed, and I’m cashing out.

Thursday. 3:05 p.m. Fred calls. He’s in a rental car in Lloydminster, parked on 50^th Avenue, the road that famously divides the city in two, with half being in Saskatchewan and half in Alberta. He’s trying to Google a KFC because he wants to try their Double Down and his iPhone is showing him a map of Kitscoty, AB.

“You by a computer?” he asks. “I’m starving.”

“Nice to hear from you too,” I say. “Good thing I had to go to the bathroom or I’d still be waiting for you to go to a show that closed last weekend.”

“I started walking but realized that your direction wasn’t convenient, so I turned and walked the other way.”

“And five days later you wound up two provinces over?” I ask with just a hint of incredulity. “And I suppose you’d also have me believe half a five dollar bill is worth $2.50?”

“Don’t try and be funny,” he says. “It’s not in your genes. I flew out for a quick sales trip. I’m on my way back, and I have hockey tickets for tomorrow. Wanna go?”

Friday. 5:30 p.m. I’m sitting outside the Café, having a coffee, eating chocolate, playing Word Mole, waiting for Fred. The game starts at seven. It’s a 20 minute walk to the stadium. Déjà vu all over again?

Marc Lieberman

Mink Chocolates Inc.,
Mink A Chocolate Cafe Ltd.

Call the store: 604.633.2451
Call my mobile: 604.376.3464
Call toll free: 1.866.283.5181

Shop: minkchocolates.com
Tweet: twitter.com/minkchocolates
Join: facebook.com/mink.chocolates
Read: blog.minkchocolates.com
Watch: youtube.com search mink chocolates
In Person: 863 Hastings Street West, Vancouver, BC V6C 3N9

Nine out of every ten persons say they love chocolate. The tenth lies.
– Anthelme Brillat-Savarin