… a Protein-Ball Startup Story.
Recent times have forced me to think differently about how I derive income. Two months ago, I had the experience of being made redundant – my job, that is. As these things go, it was unexpected. It was my first day back for the working year, fresh from a week away in the countryside with the boyfriend and our three kids. I was working from home that day and, after farewelling my son who was off to meet his newly-arrived baby brother in hospital (we have very quickly become quite the extended family), I sat down to work, completely forgetting my login details for a good 20 minutes. I took that as a sign of a good holiday. The boyfriend had sent an encouraging morning message wishing me well for the return to work, co-commiserating in the knowledge that our holidays were over, but wisely assuring me that we’d soon be back in the swing of things.
By 10 a.m. I was being made redundant in one of the more surreal moments of my life. By 3 p.m. I was parked at his kitchen bench being poured a large glass of ‘Mummy water’, with the kids instructed not to dare touch it.
Job loss, given I am in a single-parent household with a significant cost-of-living-crisis-style mortgage, brought on a gut-wrenching panic that I had not previously experienced. I know most do experience something like this at some stage of their working lives, but I had so far dodged this one. Given the industry I’m in – publishing – I’d been pretty lucky. Redundancy plain sucks, on a few levels. There’s the immediate Maslow’s needs stuff and then there’s the identity piece, as well as the gaping unknown ahead.
I had been told that it would come to be a blessing. I didn’t feel that at all in those first few weeks. The gut-wrenching panic eventually gave way to a constant hum of unease in my belly and sent me into manic job searching, networking and ideating, and then lifting extremely heavy weights in my apartment complex micro-gym to try and cast-out the anxiety demons. On days when the anxiety overwhelmed, I allowed myself to succumb, a loving friend or parent or the boyfriend a recipient of a voice note in all its incoherent and unhinged glory.
There have been some hairbrained ideas and knocking on old, closed doors, and quickly concluding that there are reasons why they closed, and the path of discovery ahead, the scarier path, sometimes must be taken (this goes for many things in life, I suppose). I’ve confirmed that bots are used to skim resumes and using the right full-bleed resume format bought on the Etsy store means the AI is less likely to put mine in a virtual ‘slush pile’. Speaking of AI, I spent a day with ChatGPT, understanding thy enemy (it is, after all, one of the reasons why publishing is having such a hard-arse time) and learning I could become a great many variety of job titles, even if such jobs didn’t exist. Fractional Consultant for Publishing, Strategy, and People Leadership, anyone?
But one of my more creative ventures was presented to me by my friend, the local cafe owner. I’d long advertised yoga offerings and hikes outside his cafe, and given my unhinged state, answered ‘unemployed’ when he asked how I was one morning. He asked then if I bake and I replied, ‘do I bake!’.
It turned out he needed protein balls. Tradies were becoming discerning, and given the aforementioned cost-of-living crisis, could not spend their money on a cake with their coffee, as well as lunch, and then after-work drinks. The cake was being cut. What was needed was an el cheapo side-bite. A filling ball of goodness. I had never made a protein ball in my life. I imagined I needed obscene tubs of ‘gains powder’ to make them proteiny. But I decided I would make the best darned protein balls of any cafe in the lands.
We discussed flavours, future cafes and the potential to open a foodstore together (if with books also, this would fulfil one of my ten-ish life dreams). I professed my baking pedigree and work as an 11-year-old in my parents’ cafe (they weren’t exploiting me, promise. I looked older than my years, even if I was 4 years younger than the legal working age, and I wanted pocket money). I went home with a skip in my step. I was going to work in the food industry. The future was set.
Protein balls were delivered for tasting. My tiny kitchen and even tinier mini-mixer were hit hard by dates to be pureed, flying oats and smushed chocolate bits. I took the first samples around to the cafe fresh from setting in the fridge, my t-shirt splattered with coconut oil and almond butter. I was legit.
After that tasting 100 balls were ordered. Once a fortnight I was to deliver two different flavours. And if they took off perhaps other goods could be sold. I imagined becoming a protein ball queen, delivering balls to cafes all over town, never to step foot in an office again.
My 100 balls made it to the cafe, on time and to spec. But alas, they still sit in half-full jars 2 weeks later, waiting for takers. ‘I’m smashing them’, says the cafe owner. I’m very pleased he likes them, but selling them was the goal. There are no customers, he tells me. No-one wants to spend money. Not even the tradies.
Fortunately I have since landed a job. One where there is no date puree involved, but there is a steady income. It is short-term, part-time and in a whole new industry for me, but I feel very relieved. There are still other ideas bubbling away. But I can now get back to guilt-free writing and being creative when not working, because I’m not frantically looking for a job and tearing muscles with weights I should probably never have lifted. I am little sad that the protein balls didn’t work out. But I got such a kick out of seeing my food in a cafe. That dream isn’t over yet.
INGREDIENTS
½ cup rolled oats
½ cup coconut (plus extra, for coating)
¼ cup ground hemp seed*
½ teaspoon salt
1 cup macadamias**
1 cup white chocolate bits
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
⅓ cup maple syrup
½ cup almond butter
½ cup dried cherries, coarsely chopped (or blueberries/raspberries) (optional)
Optional for drizzling:
2 tablespoons sweetened condensed milk
1 tablespoon white chocolate bits
1 teaspoon dried lavender
Makes 12–15 balls, depending on the size
METHOD
Place the oats, coconut, hemp seed and salt into a food processor and pulse until the ingredients are combined and finely ground. Add the white chocolate and macadamias, or half only, if you want the texture of your balls to be a little crunchy, and process again until the mixture resembles coarse sand. Be careful not to overmix and have it become too greasy.
Add the vanilla, almond butter and maple syrup, processing lightly until the mixture comes together. In a proper food processor it should form a ball and stop mixing at some point.
Place the mixture in a large bowl and add the chopped dried berries and the remaining nuts and white chocolate, if reserving these for extra crunch.
Use your hands to combine the ingredients and then shape into balls of a size to your liking. I used gloves (for ease and also given selling to the general public). You may need to add a little water if too crumbly, or more almond butter. Taste as you go. Always.
You could leave your balls like so, which would make them perfectly delicious, or roll them in finely desiccated coconut for prettiness and to hold. I made them this way for the cafe. For extra lux, combine a little condensed milk (I used oat) and melted white chocolate, then spoon this over the balls. I added a sprinkling of lavender to be fancy, but you could also sprinkle freeze-dried raspberry. Super lux. However you present them, I reckon these are quite special. Once adorned, place in the fridge to set for at least 30 minutes.
*You can find ground hemp seed in the health food aisle of your local supermarket. This was my ‘protein’ inclusion, aside from the nuts and almond butter. This could also be substituted with another type of protein powder.
**Cashews also delicious instead of macadamias, and a little cheaper!
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