Foodies Gone Wild

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Experts say Allen isn't the only one to fall into these nettlesome traps. "The main problems are people's lack of familiarity with regulations and the belief they can cook food to be manufactured in the same way they cook it for immediate consumption," says Olga I. Padilla-Zakour, director of the Food Venture Center, part of Cornell University's food-science and -technology department in Geneva, N.Y.

Another challenge is getting shelf space. David Hahn, who started commercially selling his products, Caramel Sin and Cranberry Fool, in late 1999, when he was 51, says it took 2 1/2 years of "constant, everyday work" to get his first placement in a Whole Foods Market. His products are now in 80 stores. "What people don't get is how dogged you have to be to pursue it," he says. "It takes months of phone calls once a week, being both charming and pushy."

Hahn, a television writer who lives in Los Angeles with his wife and business partner Melanie Ray, started making Caramel Sin, "a fine candy in a jar," and Cranberry Fool, a natural, cooked-fruit topping, as holiday presents for family and friends about 14 years ago. Encouraged by the accolades they received, he concluded that he was sitting on a gold mine. "One Christmas, when it got to be more than 300 jars, my wife said, 'Get it out of my kitchen,'" he says.

But if you're going to cook for the masses, you'd better be able to take the heat. This is humbling business, and weathered veterans of corporate America, accustomed to a certain level of authority, often seem to give off an attitude of "Who are you to tell me I can't be CEO?" says Stephen F. Hall, who consults through his company, Food Marketing International in Scottsdale, Ariz., and is the author of From Kitchen to Market: Selling Your Gourmet Food Specialty. "It's fraught with great risk," says Hall. "I discourage folks from mortgaging their home."

Fortunately, Charlie and Glenda Ferguson had enough cash on hand to start their salsa venture. Bootstrapping the operation, they turned half of a barn into a warehouse early on. And soon enough their product was a barn-burning success--owing in large part to their systematic approach to learning about product labeling, food regulations and licensed co-packing facilities. In 14 months, the company starting ringing up a profit, and the Fergusons were selling their salsa at festivals and bazaars, presenting their product to food stores and winning prizes, including the first-prize People's Preference Award at the International Zesty Food Show in Fort Worth, Texas, last September.

"We really didn't know how complicated it was going to get," says Glenda. This year they are projecting about $500,000 in revenue, but their best reward might be seeing the salsa move into the hands of the consumer. "We were in a Kroger store recently by our display, and a lady came by and put a jar of our salsa in her cart," Glenda recalls. "It was a gratifying moment to see someone pick up our product to buy it."