Chocolate: The Best Known, Least Known Food

(Photo above: Porcelana Sapling at the Estacion Experimental Chama in Zulia state Venezuela--December 2006)

Not long ago, during a friendly conversation about chocolate--as if there were any other kind--culinary historian, and NYC chocolate tour director, Alexandra Leaf, said to me that she thought of chocolate as the "best known, least known food in existence.” That comment got a chuckle out of me as I realized that not only is it true, but that the reason it is funny in the first place is due to the irony that something as well-loved as chocolate, a food to which people are exposed, in one form or another, virtually from infancy, a food that impassions a large part of the the human community with its complexity, unique flavor and texture, is virtually a stranger to us in terms of how it actually comes to be chocolate!

To some extent this is to be expected; after all, with expanding globalization it is rare nowadays that many of us know from whence all, or even most, of our food comes. Still, it is probably safe to say that even if we are not sure whether the orange that we are eating comes from Florida, most of us are reasonably certain that the orange did originally come from a tree. Even this much is not generally known about chocolate. In conversations I’ve had over the past several years, with people of all backgrounds, levels of education, economic statuses, sexes, and everything in between, most people truly are astonished when I tell them that chocolate has its ultimate origin in the bitter, pulp-covered seeds of a fruit that grows on a tree. This need not be the case!

Personally, I have dealt with the issue of chocolate’s complex provenance many times, and in many ways, in the posts of this blog, and there is a good chance that all of you reading this post have seen me mention these facts in one way or another. However, my blog posts are not enough. They simply cannot reach the majority of the population. That is why you, as the choco-literati, must take it upon yourself to help educate others about the glory and the beauty of cacao and its long and difficult voyage to chocolate. You can do it! You can spread the good word, the chocolate gospel, the truth about the best known, least known food in existence! The next time a friend of yours bites into a chocolate bar in front of you, by all means drop a little chocolate knowledge in their general direction. After all, though most people know only a little about chocolate, it is a subject that few can resist. You might even get to share a bit of their chocolate as a sign of appreciation.

Enjoy,

Alan
P.S. My utmost appreciation goes to Alexandra Leaf for the inspiration for this post, and for her work as a culinary and chocolate educator!
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The Chemistry of Chocolate Part 2: General Cocoa Bean Chemistry


Chocolate doesn’t just grow on trees. Well, actually it does…kind of. Chocolate is made from the fermented and dried seeds--often called cocoa beans--of a fruit, a large berry in fact, that grows on a tropical tree between approximately 20ºN and 20ºS. It was once commonly thought that two subspecies of cacao trees existed, Theobroma cacao ssp. cacao—commonly called Criollo—and Theobroma cacao ssp. sphaerocarpum—commonly called Forastero. However, more recent research suggests that the idea of two separate subspecies is incorrect, since though Criollo and Forastero populations certainly have differing phenotypes, they are sometimes far more similar than different, with some Criollo and Forastero populations being much more alike than either is similar to various hybrid populations. We will touch on this issue more in this installment of The Chemistry of Chocolate, as it is quite relevant to the chemistry-based role that genetics can play on the flavor of cacao. First, however, let it be noted that it is common in the chocolate industry, and especially in chocolate marketing within the industry, to talk about the following three categories of cacao: Criollo, Forastero, and Trinitario.

We have already seen the terms Criollo and Forastero, and the name “Trinitario” stems from the hybridized trees of Criollo and Forastero parentage in Trinidad following a “blast”—either disease-based or hurricane-based—in the first half of the 18th century. Because the name Trinitario had relevance in speaking of the first well-known hybrids of cacao, it gradually also came to be used in a generic sense by many people, for almost any hybrid, despite the fact that many hybrids have nothing to do with Trinidad as their origin. Therefore, though in Trinidad there is still said to be true Trinitario cacao, in the sense of it being closely genetically related to the original, and though some of this cacao was spread to other geographical regions, the term is generally more confusing than it is helpful. For this reason, I will not use the term Trinitario, but will use the more generic term “hybrid,” which, though leaving much to be desired, since it lacks the specificity needed to delineate the hundreds—at least—of cacao hybrids that now exist, will serve the purposes of the Chemistry of Chocolate series just fine. Finally, then, for ease of discussion, we can generally say that there are three main categories of cacao: Criollo, Forastero, and hybrids, and within each group there are certainly countless populations with divergences in phenotypes and flavor profiles of prepared samples, and this means that none of these categories can be seen as a single homogeneous "variety." However, there are also some general rules that can be stated, which are gleaned from a study of the various populations that are generally seen as fitting within the three categories listed above. Let us first discuss Criollo.

We know that Criollo cacao was historically cultivated by the Olmecs--perhaps as early as 1000 BCE-- and then the Maya in Central America and Southern Mexico, and it is likely that these Central American cacao populations had originally come from populations in western Venezuela and the surrounding areas, where such Criollo populations continue to exist, though often in slightly hybridized forms. Interestingly, Criollo matures more slowly, produces fewer fruit, and has low disease and pest resistance. With all of these seemingly negative qualities related to Criollo, one might wonder why the Olmecs and those pre-historic peoples who came before them even bothered to propogate it. The answer is likely in the flavor, in that the Criollo cacao populations are generally particularly nutty, mild, lacking bitterness and astringency, and therefore are often more subtle and pleasing as regards flavor. This being the probable case, despite the drawbacks of such cacao, it gradually came to be favored by certain indigenous peoples of Central America, finally making its way from its likely origin in Venezuela, up to Guatemala, Belize and southern Mexico. The underlying chemical reasons for the flavor of the Criollo cacao, which are related to the genetics of this type, are also quite interesting, and will give us a foundation for dealing with the chemistry of the other cacao types.

One clue that helps to unlock the mystery of the general flavor differences between categories of cacao, is that while Criollo seeds have white interiors prior to fermentation and drying, Forastero seeds have purple interiors. The missing purple chemical in Criollo is the same one that colors polyphenol-rich blueberries: a flavonoid bound to a sugar that, when taken as a whole, is called an anthocyanin glycoside. Though this compound itself is not thought to be bitter or astringent, it has been noted that where it is present in cacao, certain other flavonoids are present as well, and in higher amounts than in cacao with no purple pigment. These other flavonoids, such as catechin and epicatechin, tend to be bitter in their simpler non-complexed form, and in their complexed forms, somewhat less bitter but more astringent. Astringency is a dry/puckery feeling in the mouth caused by the higher molecular weight flavonoid polymers--often referred to as tannins--reacting with protein in the saliva and on the tongue, and though always present in cacao, in excess, the sensation can be quite unpleasant.

Interestingly, not only does the relative lack of these particular flavonoids lead to a less harsh product in the case of Criollo, which has about 2/3 of the amount that Forastero has, but the balance of flavor is shifted even further, as other flavor notes within the cacao become more noticeable in the absence of the flavonoid harshness. Therefore nutty, fruity and other positive qualities of the cacao tend to be more noticeable. However, flavonoids aren’t the only bitter chemicals that are present in Forastero. Theobromine, an alkaloid related to caffeine, is also quite bitter, and present in perceptible quantities in Forastero. We will touch upon theobromine in more depth when discussing roasting later in the series, where it will have a large role to play. Another potential difference between Forastero and Criollo cacao, though the amounts of data present to support it are still limited, is that Criollo or Criollo-heavy hybrids may generally have more free amino acids in their composition. This could well play a role regarding flavor differences between Criollo and Forastero during roasting, a possibility that we will also discuss later in this series.

As for hybrids, they can have many different combinations of the above Criollo and Forastero traits. They can seem remarkably similar to Criollo, with only slightly bitter and astringent, very light, pink cotyledons, or they can seem far more like Forastero, with purple, more bitter seeds, and sometimes hybrids can actually include many more bitter and astringent compounds than even average Forastero populations. Hybrids can, thus, not be lumped into one category for the sake of flavor description or internal seed chemical composition, especially since the degree of variation within the whole range of hybrid populations far exceeds variation within Criollo and Forastero populations. This is one reason why, though all three terms--Forastero, Criollo, and hybrid--can be tricky in terms of usage, almost always requiring a bit of supplementary definition, the aforementioned term "Trinitario" is almost useless unless very clearly defined. That said, Criollo also risks becoming a useless term as some people have tended to refer to any hybrid with some amount of noticeable Criollo parentage as Criollo, when, as a hybrid, it obviously cannot be. It is reasonable, therefore, to want to know the whole story behind someone's usage of the terms Criollo or Trinitario before taking them at face value.

Moving on--so far we have taken a brief look at what role genetics can play in terms of determining cacao chemistry and flavor, but though genetics play a large role regarding cacao flavor, due to flavonoid, theobromine, and, potentially, free amino acid levels, the environment and climate in which the cacao trees grow also substantially impact the chemistry of the cacao seeds and therefore their flavor. As with all fruit trees, the health of the tree itself is important, and so weather patterns that impact temperature, rainfall, humidity and solar radiation levels all play a role in the flavor of the seeds within the cacao fruit. In addition to these various climactic conditions, soil-type, other plant species growing in close proximity--for example shade trees or leguminous atmospheric nitrogen-fixing plants--and even mycorrhizal fungi in the soil that have a symbiotic relationship with cacao, all make substantial impacts on the health, and therefore the cellular chemistry, of the tree and its fruit. In fact, all of these conditions could arguably be combined underneath a single umbrella-term that the French call “terroir”, a word that one normally hears used in relation to grape vineyards and wine. However, it is equally applicable to other crops, and cacao among them. Terroir is responsible, to quite a degree, for the flavor of cacao that comes from different regions, origins, or even given plots of land within regions. Additionally, the various impacts that terroir can have on cacao stretch beyond the growing location and reach into post-harvest processing, as each location, or origin, has different microbial populations that impact the chemistry and flavor of the cacao in dramatic ways. The next part of the Chemistry of Chocolate series, therefore, will delve into this realm of post-harvest processing, as we cover harvest, fermentation, and drying.
READ MORE - The Chemistry of Chocolate Part 2: General Cocoa Bean Chemistry

New York City Patric Chocolate Events in March

I will be in New York City on the 30th of March for two chocolate-related events. First, I will be speaking at 5 pm, at one of chocolate expert Clay Gordon's Meet-Ups. The talk will cover both fine chocolate in general and Patric Chocolate's processes in particular, and of course we will be tasting both the 67% and 70% bars. This event will be limited to 30 people due to room-size limitations, so please don't wait too long before registering for the event or it may be full. More information can be found HERE.

If two chocolate events in one day doesn't phase you, then plan on making it to The Chocolate Collection: An Evening of Tasting at 7:30 pm, led by culinary historian Alexandra Leaf, chocolate expert Clay Gordon, and wine expert Costas Mouzouras of Gotham Wines, wherein Patric Chocolate will be tasted, discussed, and paired with various fine wines. I will be on hand in order to field any questions related specifically to the manufacture of the chocolate.

I hope to see many of you at both events!

Best,

Alan McClure
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Chocolate: If It Isn’t a Candy, Then What Is It?


There are many things about chocolate that stand out for me over the span of my life as I have gone from a novice lover of most things chocolate to a bean-to-bar fine chocolate maker. I remember clearly the first time I saw a cacao fruit in Tabasco State, Mexico. I recall my first smell of roasting cacao as I stirred it in a cast-iron skillet, and I will never forget the joy of tasting my first batch of European-style chocolate, as I slowly placed a spoon of the molten goodness into my mouth. If there is a heaven, it must include the feelings I associate with these experiences. Yet, there is one chocolate-related memory that came before all of these, and whose power still grabs hold of me today when people ask me what types of “candy bars” I make: In my early twenties, I was sitting in a university French course as the instructor asked us to name types of candy, the idea being that she would tell us what they were called in French, if there existed something comparable. Almost immediately I said “chocolate!” The response came just as quickly: “Non, le chocolat n’est pas un bonbon, mais il y a des bonbons qui se font avec du chocolat.” Even for those of you who don’t speak French, the response is probably clear enough; chocolate was apparently not a candy at all.

Still, despite the bluntness with which we were told of chocolate’s status as non-candy, I found myself shocked nonetheless that anyone would claim such a thing. I couldn’t imagine hearing those same words coming out of another person’s mouth ever again, and certainly not out of mine; chocolate obviously was a candy after all, French instructor opinion notwithstanding. That said, this seemingly obvious truth was not about to remain so clear to me for long.

For about a year from 2003 to 2004, I found myself in Lyon, France. The reasons for which I was there had nothing to do with chocolate at all, but upon finding the time to do a bit of reading about French gastronomy, I soon found myself wondering if I was perhaps in the ultimate fine chocolate country in the world. Unlike the national preferences in many countries—Germany, the US, Switzerland and Belgium included--the French prefer dark chocolate, and there are quite a few respected bean-to-bar chocolate makers to be found in France. True, the average French citizen is not necessarily familiar with the names of the makers of these fine chocolate bars, but the chance of accidentally running into their bars while shopping is not infinitesimal either. Taking this into consideration, I began to seek out many of what I read were the “greats” (to learn more about French chocolate makers read the last part of this post). I tried many bars from a variety of different companies, and over the course of the year I began to realize that though I had been convinced that I preferred milk chocolate, dark chocolate was quickly beginning to spend much greater amounts of time filling my thoughts. By the time I headed back home in early 2004, I had developed a taste for French dark chocolate that the variety of bars I was bringing back with me would not be able to satisfy for long.

Back in the US, I set to work trying to figure out if there were some websites devoted to French chocolate. I came across one called SeventyPercent.com, and soon absorbed much of the information there, from forum discussions on various chocolate makers, to the reviews of single bars themselves. I discovered that there were also Italian chocolate makers doing amazing things with cacao, and after finding a site from which to order French and Italian dark chocolate online, I ordered a number of the most respected bars, and then some others made by the same manufacturers. If the average, more easily available, French dark chocolate that I had already tried was a true eye opening experience, then this selection of the “best of the best” was a revelation. Each bar was so different from the next, and I was finally beginning to be able to taste various flavor notes in the chocolate, as I came to better understand what the French term terroir meant: that cacao from different regions had unique flavor qualities, even across manufacturers, that could be tied to climate, soil-type, nearby foliage, and naturally occurring microbes in the air and soil, not to mention other factors such as cacao variety and post-harvest processing. One might start to think that I am talking about wine rather than chocolate, and the confusion would be justified as there are clearly similarities between grapes and cacao on many levels. In fact, it is this complexity in cacao, and therefore chocolate, that so intrigued me, that I soon began to wonder about making my own chocolate and shortly thereafter started to experiment with the preliminary processes that eventually led to my first attempts at making European-style fine chocolate.

You may be wondering at this point how a blog post on the difference between chocolate and candy has turned into a story of my progression from chocolate lover to chocolate maker. Well, as I wondered how best to write a piece about the issue, I realized that virtually every reason that I could put forth was almost entirely subjective, as are many food-related opinions. Where the classification for chocolate ends and candy begins is a judgment call that is made by every individual, and I certainly cannot force my beliefs upon others. However, I think that my subjective experience, from seeing chocolate as candy for so much of my life, to finally seeing fine chocolate as a complex and delectable food quite far removed from candy…well, I thought that it might carry more weight than simply trying to come up with a set of objective criteria by which one might come to the same opinion. I thought that my experience might be more persuasive. As I think about why this might be, I realize that the definitions of candy and chocolate are both inextricably linked to time and place, and right here and right now in the US candy is often seen as cheap, sugar-filled, and bad for your health. That is not to say that all things called candies do have these qualities, but fine chocolate, for example, has none of them. It certainly isn’t cheap to manufacture, in its 70% and higher incarnations it is hardly what anyone would call sweet, and we are finding out more and more reasons why it is good for us. Of course, there is also the fact that chocolate has one of the most complex, if not the most complex, flavor profiles of any food in existence, certainly rivaling wine, cheese, coffee and tea in the quantity of volatile flavor components that can be ascribed to it. What candy can claim the same? Of course, I am careful to continually say “fine chocolate” because much mass-market chocolate, whether made in the US or elsewhere, has more in common with candy than the chocolate of which I am speaking. A warning sign would be a chocolate bar with sugar as the number one ingredient, no mention of the origin from which the cacao comes, no specific mention of cacao content, milk flavor that drowns out the cacao, and excess vanilla or even worse, vanillin, or other flavorings.

As for candy, I certainly think that it is possible for a culture to exist where candy or confections are taken so seriously, that they rise to the status of gastronomic triumph, and many would argue that confectioners in the French tradition have created items--some including chocolate and some not—that approach or fully attain this level, with confections so complex and delicious that they certainly deserve their own place next to the other great foods of the world. However, I have to believe that even in this case, there is something about the complex beauty of a masterfully-crafted fine dark chocolate that is lost when it is combined with other products. A world-class chocolate, at its best, deserves to stand on its own, and like a great wine, is not improved when combined with other ingredients, where the full depth of its bouquet could never be completely experienced. As always, there will be people who will disagree, and I can certainly appreciate other points of view, but still, if ever I were to ask someone to name their favorite type of candy, and “chocolate” came back as a response, there is a good chance that I might think to myself “Non, le chocolat n’est pas un bonbon, mais il y a des bonbons qui se font avec du chocolat.”

Best,

Alan McClure
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Nibs, Cacao Seeds and Cocoa Beans, Oh My!


These words are thrown around indiscriminately at times, and I am probably also guilty of it, even as I try to clarify, rather than obfuscate, chocolate-related issues. So, here is my attempt to create some order out of this chaos. Luckily, this topic is one of the least complicated ones of which I have written as of late.

The journey of "cacao" starts with a tree, also called “cacao,” or more specifically, by its scientific name, Theobroma cacao. On the trunk and lower branches of the cacao tree’s canopy grow beautiful, if a bit odd-looking, fruit. These fruit are slightly smaller than a large papaya and roughly the same shape, though some of them have quite a few bumps, ridges, and curves that give them a bit more character (see photo above). As mentioned in a previous post, these fruit are actually large berries, and within these berries one finds tart pulp-covered seeds that are approximately the size of an almond, though a bit plumper. These seeds are, therefore, called "cacao seeds," or often simply "cacao." So far, so good.

The cacao seeds must be removed from the fruit, and fermented and then dried. This processes leads to a product that can then be roasted and refined to make chocolate. At this stage it can still be called "cacao," but in English speaking countries, is often referred to as “cocoa beans” or simply “cocoa.” It is easy to see that the word “cocoa” is quite similar to “cacao,” and that the terms are related, but this does not help solve the confusion related to the fact that “cocoa” can also be used in ways other than to refer to “cacao seeds” or “cocoa beans.” Often “cocoa” is used to refer to “cocoa powder,” which is roasted and ground “cocoa beans” that have had much of their natural fat removed. And speaking of “cocoa beans,” why is it that they are called “beans” anyway, when they are actually not beans at all? The reason is probably quite simple, despite the confusing common usage: the seeds are somewhat bean-shaped, and apparently the English were not the only ones to think so, as the French terminology--fève de cacao--references a fava bean in its description of the seed shape.

So, all confusion about “cacao seeds” and “cocoa beans” aside, what are “nibs?” The term “nibs” is one that is cropping up quite a bit lately, but many people, perhaps most, are still not familiar with it. To understand what “nibs” are, let us discuss just a bit about the structure of a cacao seed. The seed has a thin seed-coat that when dried is quite brittle. This dry seed-coat is usually called the “shell.” This shell is removed, generally after roasting, and what is left--the internal part of the bean, or botanically, the cotyledons--is 100% pure unground chocolate. This unground, shell-less seed can be broken into pieces quite readily, and these pieces are called “nibs.” When roasted, as they usually are, these nibs have a pleasant chocolate-like aroma and flavor, though since they are unsweetened, also have some additional bitterness. Their nut-like texture, however, does moderate the strength of the nibs, and so they tend to be far more munchable than refined 100% chocolate. Nibs can be found in bars of chocolate, where they take the place that nuts might normally fill, and also in small bags to be eaten out of hand, or mixed in with fruit, or even cooked with. They are a tasty and satisfying food, and one that Patric Chocolate will be offering in the near future.

I hope that this brief essay helps to clarify the differences between some very commonly used words, despite the large degree of overlap. For an article that touches on a few of these terms in relation to the percentage that we often see on the chocolate bar wrapper, please see my previous post called Chocolate and Percentages: What Does it All Mean?

Very Best,

Alan McClure
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