Part I

I love top-secret projects. It is thrilling to work on something in complete secrecy, then see the fruits of your labors being sold to consumers. It is a great feeling to point with pride and say, “I helped create that.” I think this project will be the same way. And for now, even though we are mired in technical challenges, I think the results will be worth all of the hush-hush efforts we are expending on behalf of the project, Code Name: Sabra. 

It all started innocently enough, as these projects do, with the signing of a confidentiality agreement. Once these were exchanged, discussions began in earnest. The first step was to meet in person. I received a brief phone message. “Wednesday at 1, be at Boston Logan. One of our people will be holding a sign with the name ‘Wonka.’ The code word is ‘oompa loompa.’ ” I booked my flight. After deplaning, I headed toward the baggage claim. I have learned to travel light on these assignments, so I bypassed the luggage carousel and looked for my contact. A muscular, solidly built man with a mustache was holding the name card. “Are you looking for oompa loompas?” I asked. He nodded. “I am Wolverine. Come,” he said. “The Sabra doesn’t like people who are late.” We got into his car and proceeded north out of Boston. As we drove, Wolverine talked briefly. “He is a brilliant scientist. He speaks five languages. Much of his scientific work, of course, is highly classified. Many of his inventions are still being used by the Israeli military. The head of the Mossad was the best man in his wedding.”

After 30 minutes of driving and passing what must have been hundreds of Dunkin’ Donuts, we pulled up in front of a large building. We got out of the car and walked to the door. Closed-circuit cameras were following our every move. Wolverine placed his hand on the pad next to the door, and with a click, the lock released and the door swung open. We entered, and the door closed behind us. As I heard the door lock, I wondered what I was getting myself into.

Part II

We entered the conference room. On the wall was a whiteboard with some complicated mathematical formulas. Standing in front of the board holding a dry-erase marker was a tall, thin man with a shock of gray hair. He turned as we entered. “Welcome,” he said, in flawless yet accented English. “I am known as the Sabra. You have already met Wolverine. Let us discuss the project.” For the next hour, the three of us talked about what we were trying to do. It was thrilling and daunting at the same time. Their plan was to crack a specific market and upstage big, national brands with better-tasting, more cost-effective, easier-to-make beverages. And they needed some help. “This is not an easy project,” the Sabra said, “and we must be extremely careful about how we proceed. Are you prepared to make the sacrifice and continue working with us? If you do not want to continue, Wolverine will take you back to the airport. It is up to you.” I didn’t hesitate. “I will do it,” I said. “I look forward to the challenge.” 

“I expected nothing less,” said the Sabra. “Let us give you the tour so that you can understand what we do here.” We left the conference room and walked to a locked door. The Sabra placed his hand on the pad, and the door clicked open. A long, narrow staircase led into the gloom. As we descended deep below the building, I could feel the temperature get cooler. Finally, we reached the bottom. I could hear the hiss of compressed air and the thunking of a machine in the distance. From the gloom emerged a small man. He stuck out his hand. “They call me the Engineer,” he said. “I’m in charge of our skunk works, and I keep the machines running.” We followed him back through the tunnel until we emerged in a small, brightly lit room, which contained the machine. I watched as robotic arms assembled the different pieces that would be used to make the finished drinks, as the Sabra explained each step. I nodded, and he gave me a finished piece, which I carefully examined. “Let us return to the conference room,” he said. He thanked the Engineer, and we ascended the staircase to the main building and returned to the conference room. “You have now seen our operation,” said the Sabra. “Are you prepared to continue working with us?” I noticed Wolverine became tense and eyed me carefully from across the table. “Yes,” I said, and saw Wolverine relax in his chair. “This sounds like an exciting project, and something that will engage me and my team. I have learned what I need to here. I will contact you when I am ready with samples for you to try. When I return, we will test our products. Together, we will end the monopoly of the fabled Green Monster.” 

To be continued …        

I like to think that Mont Blanc Gourmet is a terrific partner and supplier to our customers. And most of them would agree. Unfortunately, now and then things happen and we just can’t live up to the standards we both expect. We have just finished one such situation, one of the most frustrating projects we have ever undertaken. 

Mont Blanc Gourmet was asked by one of our customers to develop two new fruit-based flavors to be used in their summer drinks. Samples of both flavors, Mango and Berry Pomegranate, were sent to our customer and we finally received approval to produce them both. The product was going to be packed in a different bottle than we usually use for our sauces, so we got samples and had those approved by the plant and the customer. Our customer wanted to be kept apprised of our progress, so we scheduled a weekly conference call between Mont Blanc Gourmet and their team. In addition, email updates were sent whenever anything of significance developed. Things were proceeding normally and we ordered ingredients and scheduled a test run. 

Who knew that mango puree would be so difficult to find! We contacted the supplier, only to discover that the samples we had been using were from a crop in Asia that they did not have enough of for our needs. They sent samples of another mango puree, but it didn’t taste the same. The third puree worked in our blend, so we made samples, sent them to the customer, received approval, and finally placed an order for a mango puree from India that everyone preferred.  

We ordered the bottles from the manufacturer and arranged for delivery to the plant. Because this is a fruit product, we were going to hot fill the bottles and then cool them down quickly to make sure the fruit didn’t overcook. And in order to eliminate paneling, we purchased a heavier weight bottle. Paneling happens when a hot product is filled in a plastic container and then sealed. The sides of the jar suck in because the high temperature creates a vacuum inside the bottle. It doesn’t look attractive, but fortunately doesn’t affect the product. However, with a customized heavier bottle, we felt we could eliminate that problem and deliver a better-looking package. We sent a sample of the bottle to our customer so they could see the heavier bottle and approve it, and then ordered bottles from the supplier.

The day of the test run, we had both our director of Quality Assurance (QA) and Research & Development (R&D) at the plant overseeing production. Whenever we make a new product for the first time it is important that we have people from our company watching the process. The product was blended and then hot filled in the bottles, and the first problem manifested itself. The plant was unable to properly tighten the caps on the bottles causing the bottles to leak. Fortunately this was only a test run, but the results were discouraging. Upon inspection, it was discovered that the bottle manufacturer had not made the bottles correctly, and had shipped thousands of defective bottles to the plant. We had to order more bottles, and expedite their delivery in order to fill the order to meet our customer’s launch date. Another long conference call with our customer ensued where we discussed the problems and laid out our plans for the next run including how we were going to attempt to solve them. 

New bottles were ordered and shipped to the plant, production was scheduled, and again our director of QA was present. This time the bottles could close properly, and the finished cases were placed in the cooler to reduce temperature. Random inspections showed that there was no paneling of the bottles, and QA testing showed that the product tasted great. The product was immediately shipped to the customer for their launch, and we breathed a sigh of relief that the production had gone so well. And then the phone rang. Terrible news. The bottles were leaking again. 

We tested samples from the run, trying to determine the cause of the leak. The bottles were okay, and the caps were on tight. The focus was soon on the induction seal, the silver tamper proof lid under the cap that seals the mouth of the bottle. It was the cause of the leak, but during production and coming off of the production line there had been no signs of leaking. In fact, bottles had been picked up and squeezed after they were filled and nothing came out. This was puzzling. The bottles were good. The caps were good. The bottles were sealed as they came off the line. It didn’t make any sense. How could bottles that were perfectly sealed when coming off of the production line be leaking days later? Then we considered the refrigeration. Once the bottles were filled, they were placed in the cooler to lower the temperature of the fruit inside. And the change in temperature seemed to be affecting the seals. We tested the hypothesis at the production plant by doing another test and sure enough found a higher failure rate among the product that was cooled as opposed to the product that was left at ambient temperature. Having figured out the problem, it was time to make more. The good news was that the new drink was selling very well. The bad news was that they were running out of fruit puree. We scrambled again to schedule yet another production. And this time I was on a flight with members of my team to visit our customer and give them the bad news in person. We spent several hours explaining everything, and again laid out next steps. We knew they were getting frustrated, but we were trying everything we could to fix the unexpected issues that kept popping up. We were running out of chances, but we tried again. And finally, it went smoothly. We had one bottle leak out of a total of 3,000 bottles. High fives went all around in our office, and this time the conference call was easy. Everyone was pleased.

It has been a long six months since we began this project, with unexpected problems arising at every turn. Vendors didn’t have the right kind of fruit. The bottle supplier shipped defective bottles. The cooling process caused the bottles to leak. It has been an arduous process of elimination, resulting in massive frustration for us, our manufacturer and worst of all, our customer. I’m glad it finally turned out for the best, and everyone is pleased with the finished product, but it certainly wasn’t easy. Just goes to show that sometimes, despite everyone’s best efforts, things don’t always turn out the way they are supposed to.

Sensory analysis plays a key role in what I do. Daily we taste, sample and compare different products that Mont Blanc Gourmet currently makes or is developing. At the recent SCAA Symposium, the keynote presenter was a scientist who helped explain how the body and brain taste and process flavors. It was fascinating hearing about the science behind what we experience every day in our lab.

For example, did you know that the nose has 340 receptors that identify different scents? Or that there are about 1,000 chemicals in the world that create all of the aromas that we can identify? Yet we can identify only a few at the same time? In fact, the maximum number of aromas most people can identify at one time is three.

During the seminar, we did a simple exercise describing the aromas in a glass of Sauvignon Blanc wine, which has very distinct aromas. Passionfruit was the strongest and most easily identified aroma, followed by cat urine (yes, cat urine!), then some people detected further notes of pepper and lemon. In this exercise, though, the limit of three identifiable aromas held up for most people.   

Identifying flavors happens on two levels: detection and recognition. First, we detect an aroma, and then we seek to recognize and identify it. Detecting a flavor involves identifying characteristics such as temperature and astringency, while recognition involves descriptors based on how we taste things such as sweet, salty, bitter and sour.

One of the challenges in sensory analysis is trying to describe the flavor. Different flavor guides exist, such as the Specialty Coffee Association’s flavor wheel for coffee or the chocolate flavor wheel developed by Mont Blanc Gourmet. Using these tools helps translate an aroma into words. For example, begin with an aroma of fruit. Using the wheel helps define its characteristics more precisely. Is the fruit ripe or dried? Does it smell like raisin, or cherry, or fig? Using specific words to describe different flavors creates a common language of identity, enabling different people to describe and understand aroma and flavor experiences more easily. 

Returning to my lab, I shared my notes with the staff. There is a lot to learn, but I hope we can collectively improve our own language of tasting and descriptors to better enable us to describe and share aromas with one another as we develop new products.

A new product just introduced by Mont Blanc Gourmet at the SCAA show is a line of Single-Origin cocoa-powder mixes that are certified Organic and Fair Trade. We wanted to develop the cocoa powders to give customers options they could not get with chocolate syrups. In general, powder mixes can be made with organic cocoa powder, can use traditional sugar instead of other sweeteners and have a long shelf life. However, getting them certified was one of the most frustrating product-development challenges we have ever experienced. 

The first requirement was for the powders to be Single-Origin. Single-Origin defines the geographic regions where the cacao beans are grown. We tested Single-Origin cocoa powders from a half dozen countries in Africa, South America and the Caribbean, and chose two, from the Dominican Republic and Peru, to launch the line.  

The recipe is simple: Single-Origin cocoa powder, sugar and vanilla. No artificial ingredients or preservatives, so it seemed obvious that they would be labeled all-natural. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. The cocoa powders we chose are alkalized, meaning that an alkali is added to mellow the flavor and balance the natural acidity of the cocoa powder. Alkalized cocoa powders are very common, but according to federal labeling regulations, they can’t be labeled natural because the cocoa powder has another ingredient added to it. The irony is that natural-foods stores such as Whole Foods, which are among the strictest arbiters of which ingredients can and cannot be used in the products they choose to sell, allow alkalized cocoa powders. So these powder mixes, with three ingredients and no artificial ingredients or preservatives, cannot be labeled all-natural. 

The next stumbling block was the Single-Origin designation. Upon closer inspection, one of the cocoa powders that we preferred was made with only 90 percent beans from Peru, while the remainder came from other countries. So that powder was rejected, and we continued cupping and tasting until we found one we liked that we could prove was 100 percent Single-Origin. 

We determined that the cocoa powders we wanted to use were organically grown, so we applied for organic certification. Certifying the product as organic, however, required that it contain both organic sugar and organic vanilla, which took further sourcing of suppliers and tweaking of the formula but was accomplished.  

Next, we applied for Fair Trade certification, only to discover that one of the organic cocoa powders wasn’t certified to be Fair Trade because it didn’t come from a co-op. Again, it was back to the source to find another cocoa powder that was both Organic- and Fair Trade-certified that also met our taste requirements. We finally found one that satisfied all the criteria. 

It was a long, confusing process because each of the requirements we wanted resulted in contradictory and conflicting labeling issues. The Single-Origin alkalized powder, which can’t be labeled natural, is organic but not Fair Trade. The Single-Origin Fair Trade-certified powder wasn’t organic. The natural (unalkalized) cocoa powder that was organic and Fair Trade wasn’t 100 percent Single-Origin. One powder was perfect — 100 percent Single-Origin, Organic and Fair Trade — but in a drink, it tasted like a combination of wet cardboard and dirt, so it was rejected. Ultimately, we found the powders we needed that tasted good and had the attributes we required, but it has been a challenge conforming to all of these different standards. 

I hope these cocoa powders are well received and that the attributes of Single-Origin, Organic and Fair Trade resonate with our customers. However, this process also highlights how difficult it can be to bring good causes such as Organic and Fair Trade into alignment with a product. It shouldn’t have been this difficult. And for now, I’m not even going to think about Rain Forest and Bird Friendly certifications!

I consider myself a wine aficionado. Like thousands of other Americans, I cannot pass up a fine wine with dinner. But I also enjoy visiting wineries and relish tastings and the opportunity to sample different wines from around the world. And the practice of continually tasting and explaining the flavors on my tongue are translated into our lab where we do the same thing with chocolate and the drinks that we create.

I originally picked up “The House of Mondavi,” about Robert Mondavi’s iconic company, to learn how he revolutionized the wine industry in California.  But in the end, the book illustrated the rivalries and betrayals within the Mondavi family business and highlighted Mondavi’s smarts, charisma and character flaws that eventually were the company’s undoing.

Before Mondavi, California was mainly known for cheap jug wines. Mondavi founded his company in 1966 and brought to the U.S. varietal wines and superior wine-making techniques such as cold fermentation and the use of French oak barrels.

Mondavi’s story is a fascinating look at a family business that grew quickly and convinced millions of consumers to enjoy better wines than they had previously tasted. It is generally accepted that Mondavi was the catalyst behind the American movement toward the daily enjoyment of quality wine and food.

Mondavi was a brilliant, urbane salesman, but also a dysfunctional patriarch who refused to cede control of his company to his sons.  In the end, it is a very sad story. Mondavi’s sons were never able to step out of his shadow and run the company, which ultimately was sold.

The premise behind Mondavi’s lasting impact remains a critical pillar of successful business. Quality processes and techniques yield quality product. And good taste is something that can – and should – be enjoyed by everyone.  All of us in the specialty food industry owe a debt to Mondavi for helping educate people about the great potential of our unique products.  I raise my cup of coffee in tribute to Robert Mondavi.