Groundhog Day

EDITOR'S NOTE: This week, fans of Bill Murray and Harold Ramis' 1993 romantic comedy 'Groundhog Day' celebrated 20 years since the movie was filmed. The anniversary was extra special for us because our candy store was featured in the film! The following was published Feb. 3, 2012 in the The Northwest Herald of Crystal Lake, Ill. I'd describe the column (written by myself) as one part reminiscing and one part discovery. Read it and you'll understand :)


RICHMOND – I always get excited when someone brings up Harold Ramis’ 90s classic, “Groundhog Day.”

I love the movie.

It is one of the very first films I ever saw in a theater. Also, Bill Murray’s sardonic portrayal of TV weatherman Phil Conners stuck repeating the same day over and over again is perpetually funny to me.

What really gets me excited, though, is the fact that my family’s business appears in the film.

For about 26 seconds, immediately following the scene in which Conners delivers a ridiculous toast to “World Peace,” and during the scene in which Rita (Andie MacDowell) and Conners talk about white chocolate and the feeling of dejá vú, my family’s business – Anderson’s Candy Shop – is the set. Well, sort of.

You see, Anderson’s Candy Shop is located in Richmond – about 15 miles from Woodstock where, in 1992, crews with Columbia Pictures turned the downtown into a replica of Gobbler’s Knob, Penn., to shoot the film.

The legendary 26 seconds wasn’t actually filmed in our candy shop. The script for “Groundhog Day” called for a good old-fashioned candy shop as the setting for one of the film’s scenes. Since downtown Woodstock did not have a candy store that fit the bill, we were invited to set up a fake shop and be featured in the movie.

I was about 7 years old at the time and completely oblivious to the “big-timers,” as my dad, Leif Anderson, called the people who first asked us to provide props.

All I knew was that my dad took us up to the Woodstock Square one day to show us some fake snow and, more importantly, that my family’s business, my family and in a twice-removed-sort-of-way I myself, were going to be in a film.

I was excited then and I still am now.

Curious to me until recently, however, was the fact that neither my father nor my uncle have ever seemed as excited. Until a few nights ago, when I interviewed them for background on this column, I never understood why.

My uncle, Lars Anderson, called being involved in “Groundhog Day” an “interesting process.”

My dad explained what the family and the business actually had to do.

“We had to decorate an entire store and produce enough candy to set it up as if it were a real operating candy shop,” he said.

“We put up historic photos from our then-74 years in business and had to keep it set up like that for a month while they were shooting various shots,” he continued.

I also learned that our business trained extras to act like real candy shop employees. When filming was over, we did all of the cleanup and had to put the unrented space back into the shape we found it in.

After I further quizzed the patriarchs on their brush with Hollywood, I came to realize why the 26 seconds had been so huge for me and why it was lackluster for them.

I had no expectations for the film, or our part in it.

When I first saw “Groundhog Day” in the theater, I was thrilled to recognize the candy that I loved and to see sepia-toned photos of my grandfather and great-grandfather on the wall of a real scene in a real movie – no matter how brief the scene.

It was such a big deal to me. In fact, I remember sitting in the Genoa Theatre (formerly in Genoa City, Wis.) and watching the movie twice just to get a second glimpse.

For Dad and Lars, though, the 26 seconds was a letdown.

“I have to admit, we were horribly crestfallen to see how little exposure there actually was for us,” Lars said.

“For the amount of work we put in and the expense the filmmakers went to ... we were imagining we would be featured more. But really it was not any different than being silverware on a table in a restaurant in a movie,” he said.

Even though our shop provided props and our name, “Anderson’s Candy Shop,” was actually visible in the film, when the movie first came out, most people looked up Anderson’s candy store in western Pennsylvania, rather than us.

Looking back on the film with fresh eyes, I understand now my dad and uncle’s muted-enthusiasm to our involvement in the movie. And I wonder if other local businesses deal with the same mixed emotions.

However, even after finding all this out, for me, that 26 seconds (and the film in general) is still something to get excited about.

Have a memory you'd like to share? Email Katie at AndersonsCandyShop@gmail.com or leave a comment below.

Foiling a credit card scam, chocolate, and Vietnam

EDITOR'S NOTE: Typically, my father Leif is in the newspaper for one of two reasons - our chocolate has been awarded; or, as a local businessman and active citizen, he's sounding off at a town meeting about traffic patterns, development, etc. This is a bit different ... Dad recently alerted the Federal Bureau of Investigations to a credit card scam! The following was published last week in the The Northwest Herald of Crystal Lake, Ill.

Chocolate for Vietnam? Richmond candy shop targeted in scam

By SARAH SUTSCHEK - ssutschek@shawmedia.com

RICHMOND - The first order for chocolates to be sent to Vietnam was odd. But by the fifth or sixth, Leif Anderson knew something was up.

“Vietnam is a problem any time of year because of temperatures,” said Anderson, who owns Anderson’s Candy Shop in Richmond.

Even if the chocolate is headed to a cooler area, there’s no guarantee that it won’t go through a more tropical area depending on the route.

Fifteen orders to be shipped to Vietnamese cities came in around Christmas under 15 different names from locations across the United States. Canada, as well. The total was between $1,300 and $1,400.

It was a credit card scam, and with some detective work on his own, Anderson was able to track down 13 of the 15 credit-card holders. Only two of them knew their information had been stolen.

Anderson said he had the credit-card holders’ names and ZIP codes. They were of different demographics: young, old, male, female, American, Canadian.

One of the scam’s targets was a high school junior whose mother answered the phone and insisted that her kid didn’t have a credit card.

The mom found out otherwise, Anderson said.

“Two of them were upset that I could get their information and thought I was the one trying to steal their credit card,” Anderson said. “I said, ‘No, I already have your credit card.’ Later, they all called back and were thankful.”

Anderson didn’t fill the orders, and the charges ended up being reversed, he said.

“If they notify their credit-card company, they’re not liable, which is the reason I was trying to get through to them,” he said.

The scam was sophisticated enough that fake phone numbers were used, as well as fake email addresses that would reply when confirmation was sent.

FBI spokesman Ross Rice declined to comment on any specific case, but said that without a financial loss, there is no federal prosecution.

“We have so many cases like this,” Rice said. “There has to be a substantial economic loss to one or more individuals.”

The FBI also doesn’t have jurisdiction to conduct an investigation outside the United States, Rice said.

“If a fraudulently purchased item goes somewhere outside the U.S., we have to rely on the local law enforcement in the affected country,” he said.

But a scam involving chocolate was a new one to him.

“They could have been testing to see if the credit cards would go through, but that’s really the only thing I can think of,” he said.

The idea had occurred to Anderson, who was wondering where the profit is in such a scam.

“It’s very puzzling,” he said. “We’re all very suspicious here now. If something doesn’t smell right, you always check first.”

A bittersweet Christmas story

EDITOR'S NOTE: From time to time we hand deliver chocolate for our customers. Dad recently rushed from his busy schedule at the cooking room over to a local Cub Scout meeting to deliver a very special box of candy as a Christmas surprise. My sister Susanne gives a brief recap below. Merry Christmas.

About a week ago Joe Kalisek, a Ranger in the U.S. Army, contacted us at Anderson's via email.

He is stationed in Afghanistan and asked if we would deliver a box of chocolates to his wife at a local Cub Scout pack meeting since he could not do it himself.

Although Joe previously thought that he would be able to come home for Christmas, he recently learned that he will not be coming home until spring.

To help his wife Ivy cope, he wanted us to surprise her with a personally delivered present and message from him.

Leif, my dad, just so happens to have three sons in the same Cub Scout pack as Ranger Joe so, of course, he said yes! (And definitely would have even if his sons had not been at the same meeting.)

It was a very emotional experience for all of us -- Dad gets teary eyed while presenting the candy to Ivy.

And, with Joe's permission, we video taped the moment to share.

Here's a video clip of dad presenting Ivy, with her gift.

Ivy, we are so sorry that you have to be away from your husband this Christmas.

We hope those chocolates remind you how much you are loved.

And Ranger Joe, we thank you for your service and wish you a safe and speedy return home!

Merry Christmas!

Understanding the real magic

EDITORS NOTE: Today's entry is from my sister Susanne Anderson (pictured at right). She writes about transitioning into a fulltime role at Anderson's Candy Shop and how the move has given her a new perspective on the magic that happens inside 10301 Main Street. I think that the second half of this entry really describes what it feels like when you grow up into a family business.

I’m going to be honest with everyone right now, and it might hurt a little: growing up in a chocolate factory is nothing like what you saw in that Willy Wonka movie.

Ok, ok, it sort of is, but not in the way you might think. There are no chocolate rivers, no psychedelic boat rides and no little people that produce the chocolate – though sometimes, it’s true, we do break out in song.

No, these things don’t exist, but growing up here, it did feel like magic.

Just walking through the cooking room (aptly named, for this is where all of the caramel, cream and other candy centers are cooked) was enchanting.

There was always a cook, whether it was my father, my uncle or one of the various assistant cooks, stirring a huge, boiling batch of sugar turned into something even more delicious.

I didn’t know as a child exactly what everything was, but I loved watching the process. Dad pour boiling sugar out onto a cool marble and somehow – somehow – this turned into the caramels and fudges and peanut butter creams I loved so much.

Then there was the molding room (aptly named, for this is where all of the molded chocolates are made). I often saw my grandmother here, tapping the bubbles out of the chocolate after it had been poured into the bunny rabbit or Christmas tree shaped molds, and then trimming the excess chocolate off of the edges once the chocolate had hardened.

If I brought my friends to this room for a tour they always marveled at the large cylindrical melters holding hundreds of pounds of chocolate.

The packing room (where all of the chocolate pieces get packed into boxes) is probably the closest thing to Willy Wonka that we have. It is an entire room filled with chocolates just waiting to be consumed.

As a child, I didn’t understand the complicated business my elders were part of, but I did know this place was spectacular -- not only because what we made was delicious and unique, but because being here meant family.

The candy store often culminated everything a child could want: loving people making delicious, beautiful treats that you often got to eat.

I am not a child any longer. And over the past year, I have begun to work at the store much more to learn about this place in a new way.

I can now transform those boiling kettles of sugar and make melty chocolate into molded rabbits and snowflakes and more.

And although this means that there isn’t magic here for me anymore, my eyes have been opened to something else. I now see all of the hard work that every employee puts in, and I see the lasting effects of a lifetime of hard work from those before us.

Throughout my entire life, my father has been incredibly passionate about this business and these chocolates and until now, I have not understood how a person can stay so passionate for so long about the same thing.

But, when you are a part of every piece of the process from purchasing supplies to cooking, to packaging and selling – how can a person not become emotionally involved?

And I finally, do understand just how superior our products are. Every caramel batch, for instance, is tested by hand. By hand! That means we don’t just cook our caramels to a certain degree and say, “Eh, they’re good enough.” We test every single batch of candy before it is even completed to make sure our product is the absolute best it can possibly be.

Now I’ve caught myself going into seller mode – but that’s the thing I’ve realized. When my father speaks about the candy shop with such fervor that it sounds like he’s trying to sell one person the whole business, not just a caramel bar, it’s because he so completely believes in what we do here.

And that’s true for all of the people that work here. Now, including me.

We might not have the magic that Willy Wonka has, but we certainly have the same drive and the passion for our trade, and for producing something that will delight others.

Today, when I see my three little brothers here at the candy store, it harkens me back to my childhood and how magical this place can be.

It the dream of all three of my brothers to work at the candy shop when they are older and I hope that one day they can be where I am now, looking at this business not just from the perspective of a child who believes in magic, but from the perspective of an adult who is amazed at learning how much life goes into the production of a small piece of chocolate.

A cute, sneaky, customer story

Editor's note: Here at the candy store in Richmond, Illinois we get hundreds of emails, phone calls and letters each year from costumers who give us a little snapshot into what happens to our candies once they leave 10301 Main Street.

It is these stories that brighten our day and inspire us to continue to produce candy like the generations before us always did.

In this post I'll share a few examples of the kind of feedback we get.

The smiling woman in the photo below is the owner of Toom Toom Thai restaurant in Elgin, Illinois. She posted a photo of herself smiling with a box of our candies after she received the treats as a Thank-You gift from a customer.

To see another particularly cute upload visit our Facebook page. (You'll find an adorable young customer in Colorado enjoying a chocolate Easter bunny.)

During the past year, in fact, Facebook has become one of our favorite ways receive feedback. To round out this post, I'll share with you what is probably my favorite Facebook share this year.

The story is from a customer who has enjoyed Anderson's Candy since her childhood in Crystal Lake, Illinois.

Her name is Amanda Glauser Schneegass and she wrote to us this fall about her sneaky 80-year-old father.

"My Dad received two, one-pound boxes of your candy for his Birthday from me last week," she said.

"He lives in Michigan and called to say he shared the first box with my Step-Mom, BUT he has 'stashed' the second box in his sock drawer." Amanda continued. "She doesn't know about this box and I don't think he will be sharing this with her."

Amanda later wrote that her father is very, "bipartisan" when it comes to his favorite candies.

It turns out that he grew up in Ringwood, Illinois and got married to my Amanda's mom in 1956.

The couple had two daughters lived in Crystal Lake for 32 years before retiring to Michigan.

"I'm not sure exactly when he was first introduced to Anderson's Candy, BUT, I remember him driving us to your shop when it was just the one room store front when we were very young," Amanda wrote.

"It was a treat for us and we were thrilled getting to pick a BIG piece of candy for each of us," she said.

In case it wasn't clear from this post, we LOVE feedback! Share your stories with us in the comments section below or email AndersonsCandyShop@gmail.com.

Resisting temptation

When people find out that I am part of a family that has been making chocolate candies for four generations, they always ask some version of, "Do you ever get sick of the chocolate?"

The answer is NEVER.

I have been sneaking, snacking and gorging myself on our candy since I was a little girl.

In fact, it is actually hard for me to understand when customers tell us that they can make a box of our candy last a whole month in their house.

Not because it won't stay fresh that long, but because I would simply devour all of it right away.

When I am at the candy shop in Richmond, I frequently "taste test" a few pieces of candy while working. All of our employees are actually encouraged to do this from time to time in order to ensure quality.

Recently however, my ability to use restrain when it comes to eating our chocolate has been tested – at home.

I brought home to my sweetie (pictured with me above) a six-piece box of his favorite candies.

Four days ago, there were three milk chocolate Buttered Rum Truffles and three milk-chocolate-covered cherries.

Today, there are two Buttered Rum Truffles and two chocolate-covered cherry pieces still left in the box!

While I know I should be happy that he is choosing to savor his favorite candies, I can't help but be a bit annoyed by the sweet, rich treats that he is leaving out to taunt me each morning.

Recently on our candy shop Facebook page, we heard a delightful story from a woman who's father is a candy saver, too.

In our next post, we'll share her story. It warmed our hearts and gave us a chuckle and we hope you like it, too!

And, as always, if you've got a question for the family or an Anderson's Candy Shop story of your own to share, post a comment below or email me, Katie Anderson, at AndersonsCandyShop@gmail.com.

A happy (delicious) accident

Welcome back to a special edition of Chocolate Chat. Today's entry is from third-generation candy maker (my Dad) Leif Anderson. He shares the story of how an accident in the cooking room brought about a new type of candy. It is Dad's first stab at a blog entry and I think he did great! Let me know what you think.
Blog editor, Katie Anderson

It's funny sometimes how discoveries are made.

While researching the flu in 1928 Alexander Fleming noticed that a blue-green mold had infected one of his petri dishes - and killed the bacteria growing in it. Viola! Penicillin was discovered.

Just a few months ago, I myself made an exciting accidental discovery – albeit it probably will not be as world-changing as Mr. Fleming's.

A new cook and I were making a batch of Raspberry Mallow – a layer of homemade marshmallow over a layer of raspberry jel. Yes, we also homemake the jel, using real raspberries and real raspberry extract.

My assistant cook became distracted listening to the radio and forgot to add the raspberry flavor to the jel.

I decided to add the flavoring to the marshmallow itself instead and see if that boosted the flavor enough to save the batch.

It did! It also reminded me that I had been wanting to find time to experiement with a way to make our own marshmallows for use in our boxes of individual chocolate dipped candies.

When the Raspberry Mallow batch was done, we had a little extra of the flavored marshmallow left and so we poured that into a separate pan and prepared it to be cut up into small cubes and dipped in chocolate. We then let it loose in our store this June for a test with all of you!

The new raspberry-flavored marshmallow pieces were available for sampling in our store for about a month and many of you requested that we send you a taste of the new treat along with your mail orders this summer.

You made the creation a hit and Raspberry Marshmallow is here to stay.

I guess whomever first said, "I'd rather be lucky than good," knew what he was talking about.

But that shouldn't surprise me too much, the Raspberry Marshmallow incident isn't the first time Lady Luck visited our cooking room. But I'll save that story for another day.

Leif Anderson




The Anderson family can be reached at AndersonsCandyShop@gmail.com.