Tasneem
Look closely at a box of Palestinu chocolate and you won't find a flavour number printed on the seal. You'll find a name.
Somaia. Tasneem. Asmaa. Sama. Four names, one for each flavour, stamped into the foil like a signature rather than a SKU. It would have been simpler, in the ordinary sense of running a small chocolate brand, to number the flavours the way almost everyone else does: Flavour 1 through 4, tidy and forgettable. We didn't want tidy. We wanted the box to hold a person's name the same way it holds a person's craft, so neither one gets lost in the packaging.
Tasneem is the name behind the red box: White Chocolate with Raspberry. It's a small decision that changes how the product feels in your hand. Not "flavour three," but somebody's name and somebody's story, sitting on the shelf next to yours. Pick the box up and the name is the first thing your thumb finds, pressed into the foil before you even reach the chocolate underneath, a small, deliberate detail there to make sure you notice it.
A name carries something a number never will. A number is interchangeable by design: swap it for another and nothing about the object changes. A name refuses that. It insists that this box, this flavour, this choice about where your money goes, is tied to somebody real rather than a category. That's a harder thing to sell than a flavour list, and it was never meant to be easy.
It's worth sitting with what that decision actually costs a brand, commercially. "Flavour 3" fits cleanly into a dropdown menu, translates without friction into every language a store might need, and never asks a customer to slow down before they buy. A name does the opposite. It asks for a beat of attention in a transaction that's designed, everywhere else in retail, to need none at all. We kept the names anyway, because that pause was the whole point of building this in the first place.
"Every order carries a name and a story behind it" isn't just a line on a stats page. It's why the boxes are named the way they are, and why we keep telling stories like this one: not because the story is required reading before you're allowed to eat the chocolate, but because it's there for anyone who wants to look a little closer at what they're holding. Just as easily left unread by anyone who only wanted the chocolate. Both are fine. We just didn't want the option to look closer to not exist.