I make chocolate the way some people keep photographs.

Not to show off. Not to impress. But because certain moments deserve to be held somewhere.

I started BASIK Chocolates in Brisbane in 2017 with one quiet belief: that taste is the closest thing we have to a time machine. Before you've decided to remember something, a flavour can already take you there. Back to a kitchen that doesn't exist anymore. A summer that ended too fast. Something your mum used to make on Sundays.

Every piece I make begins with a feeling I'm trying to preserve. Sometimes it's mine. Sometimes it belongs to someone else entirely, and they've asked me to find it for them.

I work with two notes in every chocolate — not because it's a formula, but because memory rarely arrives alone. There's always something underneath the thing you think you're tasting.

If you've ever been stopped mid-bite by something you couldn't quite name —

that's the whole point.