Malvi Marshmallow Confections, 3040 Keith Bridge Road, Cumming. Malvimallow.com.
Family-owned businesses sound so nice and warm and loving.
A restaurant or food biz run by the same clan impresses me because I could never work with a parent, in-law, sibling or spouse on a daily basis. We'd kill each other, especially if it were my husband and most definitely if the kitchen was our shared workspace. Let's just call it a recipe for disaster.
How do married couples manage to run successful food businesses and keep the peace in the kitchen? For insight, I turned to Laura Curtis and Paris Retana, married owners of fledgling sweets company Malvi Marshmallow Confections.
Curtis and Retana met and began dating while attending the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, N.Y. They graduated in 2009 and wedding bells rang for them in 2013.
Though they both enrolled in the school’s culinary program rather than follow a pastry arts track, Curtis’ strong sweet tooth and the job she landed as a research and development chef for a New Jersey-based supermarket led to her interest in making the perfect marshmallow.
“Anyone can make a marshmallow,” Curtis said. “Boil syrup and add gelatin. The challenge is adding flavor.”
Raspberry-hibiscus was the first flavor she created. She sandwiched the sweet, puffy marshmallow between two homemade, square dark chocolate shortbread cookies for a s’more-like treat.
Retana, a native of Mexico City, suggested calling the dessert Malvi, a shortened form of the Spanish name for marshmallow, and a business was born. The idea for a business, that is. Next, they needed money.
Curtis and Retana took their idea to the public, attempting to fund Malvi Marshmallow Confections through a Kickstarter campaign. A lot of people agreed there was a market for quality marshmallows made without artificial colors or flavors. The couple sought $7,000, but ended up raising $14,000 in 30 days. The majority of backers were total strangers who gave an average of $30 to see artisanal marshmallows hit the shelves.
Malvi was off and running in December 2013 — just two months after the couple exchanged wedding vows.
More than two years later, the company sells its Malvis, mini marshmallows and 1½-inch mega marshmallows wholesale and to direct shipping customers through its website. Around Atlanta, four-pack Malvis are stocked at a handful of stores like the Spotted Trotter at Krog Street Market, Wahoo Food & Provisions in Decatur and numerous Whole Foods locations.
Business has grown so much that, last October, they moved production out of a shared kitchen space in Suwanee and into a storefront in the lake community of Cumming, next door to Lake Burrito (formerly Taqueria Mestizos), a Tex-Mex restaurant that Retana’s sisters own. In the spring, they’ll be opening the shop to retail customers and adding a cafe component to serve those in Cumming looking for a good cup of coffee or hot cocoa studded with mini marshmallows (and housemade ice cream in the summer).
Curtis and Retana typically work six days a week, 10 hours a day. During December, that increased to 15 hours a day, seven days a week, as they tried to keep up with the holiday rush.
But, watching them in their no-frills office as they exchange smiles while talking about filling Valentine’s Day orders for their best-selling vanilla salted caramel Malvi, or the upcoming launch of new marshmallow flavors like Georgia peanut or passion fruit, it seems they couldn’t be happier.
Do they always get along this well?
“Ninety percent has been awesome,” Curtis said.
Retana nodded, but they both agreed that every moment isn’t wedded bliss.
“She makes messes. I cannot deal with messes,” Retana said.
What gets Curtis’ goat? “Paris has one way to cut marshmallows. I like to improvise.”
“We are very different,” Retana replied. “My strength is research and development, costing it out, sourcing, packaging.”
Curtis ticked off her strengths: creating flavors, sandwiching Malvis between cookies, managing the office.
Dividing duties based on their strengths and knowing their tendencies and pet peeves is important, they said. It helps them ward off confrontations, such as those that come when they are sleep-deprived from working overnight, which is what happened during the 2014 Christmas season when they received an order for 50,000 Malvis — 1,000 cases — from national chain Anthropologie.
“It’s nothing for big companies, but for us — it totally blew us away,” Retana said.
Communication, they said, is by far the biggest ingredient for marital peace. And not just conferring regarding company decisions, but verbalizing frustrations before tempers flare.
These entrepreneurs also carve time for themselves. They take Mondays off and enjoy the day together, as well as attempt not to talk Malvi once they leave the shop in Cumming in the evening. With just one other part-time employee, however, that can be a tall order to fill.
“She’s always talking Malvi. It overtakes everything,” Retana chided his wife.
Yet he smiled as he recalled the days before Malvi was conceived, noting that they both envisioned creating a business as a couple, doing “something amazing together.”
Two years into their marriage and their sweets business, they might feel overworked sometimes, but neither is burned out. They’re excited for what the future holds.
Soon, that might actually mean paying themselves. Until now, they’ve reinvested profits into the company. One thing that is on the backburner for these young business owners: kids.
“This is our kid for now,” Curtis said.
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