Chesapeake mom sells fudge to pay girl's medical bills

CHESAPEAKE

Melodie Walenius has one pot, two mixers, the ability to cook up 75 different kinds of the most luscious fudge you've tasted, and a dream about selling it on a trolley.

The 31-year-old mother of four also has a daughter with a disease that affects 1 in 10 million - and she is determined to turn the Sweet Symphony Fudge Trolley into a success before the end of the year.

Walenius intends to raise the bar on mobile desserts beyond the ubiquitous ice cream truck by offering artisan chocolates, pastries and gourmet fudge in flavors that include cupcake, spiced pear and her best-seller, cinnamon roll.

The plan is for her fudge trolley to be at major events, including the Chesapeake Jubilee and crowded Oceanfront activities. Her inventory will include quarter-pound, half-pound and pound boxes selling for $3 to $14. Trolley "shots" will go for $1.

The hitch is Walenius doesn't have the trolley - yet. And she doesn't have the money to buy one - yet. Instead, she is faced with millions in medical debt that continues to mount while her 6-year-old daughter, Zoe, battles opsoclonus-myoclonus syndrome, an autoimmune disorder that causes severe neurological symptoms.

Walenius will be selling fudge in Virginia Beach at the Rock 'n' Roll Half Marathon Expo on Friday and Saturday at the Team Rhythm of Life booth. Rhythm of Life, a project of the Beach-based nonprofit The Noblemen, raises money for medical care, research and awareness of those with opsoclonus-myoclonus syndrome.

"I'm actually borrowing another pot from my neighbor, so I have two now," said Walenius, whose week has included making 200 pounds of the fudge "the doctor warned you about."

Fudge became her main business 10 months ago as a means to make a dent in her daughter's medical bills. Zoe was born with neuroblastoma cancer, which causes malignant cells to form in nerve tissue; about 3 percent of the time it leads to opsoclonus-myoclonus syndrome, Walenius said.

"A double whammy for Zoe," she said. "With odds like that, we should play the lottery ... Neurologists may see one case of this in their entire lifetime."

Shortly after she baked a cake for son Cooper's first birthday, friends began asking Walenius to make cakes for them. Soon, a friend urged her to make fudge for gift-giving.

She was skeptical and fussy about her fudge - "I don't want grainy, yucky stuff" - so she consulted a buddy, now a New York pastry chef. She combined his ideas with hers, and the flavors began rolling out. Pumpkin pie. Key lime. Island escape - a mix of pineapple, coconut and macadamia nuts.

"If you can think of a dessert, I can probably make it into fudge," she said. "If I can't, I'll give it a try."

Walenius has plenty of regular customers and ships internationally on what is largely word-of-mouth. Oversized tubs of flour and sugar are part of a chaotic kitchen where baking dominates her day. The results - dozens of plastic containers of fudge - are piled on the dining room table.

Walenius looked into opening a storefront but dismissed that idea because of the startup costs. The nostalgia of a trolley, though, appealed to her.

"It's something fun, and my kids love the idea," she said. "A trolley is so vintage."

And pricey. She and her husband, Shawn, found one for sale in Fort Myers, Fla., for $5,500. She has turned to kickstarter.com, where designers, musicians, artists - and fudge-makers - try to fund their projects. Pledges are accepted online, but no money changes hands unless the project is fully funded. Walenius is asking for $15,000 - the cost of getting the trolley up and running - but is well short of that goal.

"I, on my own power, can't make it happen," she said. "But I have to believe."

Her plan is to paint or wrap the trolley black with red and gold detail. Cupcakes, fudge and truffles will dot a music score coming out of the bell of a saxophone, hence the name Sweet Symphony.

It also will have a miniature kitchen, allowing kids to come on board and "watch me make fudge," said Walenius, who would like to have the trolley making the rounds by Thanksgiving.

The trolley, Walenius said, "is a means to an end." She plans to raise enough money to supplement her family's income and pay off her daughter's medical bills.

"It's got to work."

Vicki L. Friedman, (757) 222-5218, vicki.friedman@pilotonline.com