Chocolate to chestnuts
How do you introduce yourself when you’ve spent years covered in cocoa powder… and now you’re about to be covered in burs?
Here goes. I’m Robyn Dochterman, a former journalist, turned award-winning chocolatier, turned chestnut grower. For a long time, my identity was defined by the deadline-driven world of the Star Tribune. Then, it was defined by the "tempered shine" and silky ganache of St. Croix Chocolate Company.
Today, I am becoming a chestnut grower.
The Pull of the Tactile
My transition from journalism to chocolate was fueled by a yearning for the tactile. I took a whirlwind tour of craft—sourdough in San Francisco, cheesemaking in Utah—before finding my "Baby Bear’s bed" at a chocolate class at the French Pastry School in Chicago.
For the next 15 years, I was obsessed with the dance between art and science in a truffle. Alongside my wife Deidre, I built a business from scratch, navigating a steep learning curve to earn international awards and a loyal community. Chocolate was my language; cocoa butter ran in my veins.
Seeking a Different Rhythm
But excellence extracts a price. After three hand surgeries and years of meticulous detail work, my body began asking for a different pace. I wasn’t looking for a "period" at the end of my work life—I wanted a comma.
While I was in the kitchen, my heart wandered to the woods. I craved the way a forest syncs your brainwaves, providing an antidote to a chaotic world. I had already filled our backyard with trees to draw wildlife, but soon a new "tyranny of vision" took hold: the idea of a chestnut orchard.
Why Chestnuts?
In many ways, chestnuts are a confectioner’s secret handshake. They roast into caramel notes, purée into velvet, and candy beautifully. They are as glossy as bonbons and just as full of possibility.
But more than the flavor, I fell for the tree’s generosity. They ask for patience and reward you in decades, not days. After years in the fast-paced world of production kitchens and competition deadlines, the idea of tending trees that will outlive me felt grounding in the best possible way.
Beginning Again at 63
Changing careers at 45 is one thing; you still have time to put in your "10,000 hours" toward mastery. Switching at 63 feels different. Trees take time, and I wondered: Do I have enough of it to see this vision come to fruition?
Ultimately, the bigger fear was wasting today wondering about tomorrow. Every time I thought about the orchard, I caught myself smiling. The chocolate shop, once my biggest risk, had become the "safe" option. It was time to leap again.
What This Blog Is About
This space is where those two, sometimes three, worlds collide.
So, here I am: Possibly the world’s oldest beginning farmer. I am currently planting hundreds of chestnut trees alongside elderberries and black currants, learning the language of cover crops and soil health.
On this blog, I’ll be sharing:
Behind-the-scenes stories from my first two "stories" in journalism and chocolate.
Honest tales of stumbling through a new agricultural venture.
Experiments in confections (because I’ll never truly stop making sweets).
Reflections on flavor, farming, and the courage to start over.
If you’re a food lover, a grower, a maker, or just someone who secretly wants to trade fluorescent lights for sunshine, you’re in the right place.
Thanks for being here at the very beginning.