From The Blog

The Postharvest Life of a Cocoa Bean in Cahabón

October 24, 2016 by Kelsey Bair

Drying Cacao Beans from Adioesmac

The final flavor of a cocoa bean depends on a lot of things, including how we roast and refine them in the factory, but beans taste the way they do largely because of how they’re handled just after harvest. Sadly, the steps of post-harvest processing, fermentation, drying, and roasting, happen thousands of miles away from where the chocolate is being made, which means we don’t get to see them every day. As much as we would love to pick up our Valencia street factory and move it to the tropics so we could be a part of the day in and day out of fermentation and drying, I don’t think that is going to happen anytime soon… although don’t quote me on that.

And so, we learn everything we can through producers, and through our Chocolate Sourcerer Greg, who visits them often. Sometimes we’ll even travel with him and take a shot at shoveling fermenting beans ourselves. The craft chocolate industry is generations behind the coffee and wine industries—which are both similar to chocolate in many regards—but that means we’re still in our infancy phase, waddling around and learning our primary functions. There is still so much for us to learn about chocolate on this side of the supply chain, and because every partner at origin we work does things differently depending on the geography, weather, and politics in their region, collecting as much information as possible is critical to doing things better all around.

One partner we work with who is addressing the growing pains of the industry is Cacao Verapaz (CV) located in Cobán, Guatemala. They’re the ones responsible for getting us those unique and tasty beans in our Cahabón bar.

Started in 2014, Cacao Verapaz is a cacao buyer and exporter that invests in the technical, logistical, quality and market support for farmers from different micro-regions of Alta Verapaz in Guatemala. They work with the small and diverse farming communities tucked away along the steep mountains and lush riversides of northern Guatemala. I was fortunate enough to be sent down there for a few months to live in these primarily Mayan communities to create a transparency report for one of our partners.

Within the Cahabón region, Dandelion buys beans from a community of just over 35 families who all share a fermentation and drying space up the side of a mountain, called Adioesmac. To get there, I hitchhiked up the main switchback road, hanging off the side of a pickup truck which was crammed full of people, chickens and crops, to get sort of close to it. After receiving a very typical rural community-like list of directions along the lines of “go to the corner of the road where the big rock is to the left of the Tigo sign and Pedro will meet you,” I somehow jumped off the truck at the right time and was picked up by the incredibly welcoming Pedro Tiul on his motorcycle who brought me down the rest of the semi-constructed road to the Adioesmac community. Needless to say, I neglected to tell my mother those details about my little adventure until after I returned safely to my apartment in Cobán.

: I’m restricted by my inability to zoom in further on Google to highlight the exact location, but this is the gorgeous view from Pedro’s home.

: Chillin on my bed (hammock) at Pedro’s house with the house pet (giant Turkey).

Historically, cacao-growing regions focus on increasing production over improving quality because there was no market for high quality cacao. As the demand for high quality cacao (meaning good flavor with few defects, such as mold or insects) from chocolate makers increases, there is direct incentive for farmers to continue increasing the quality of their production, partly because because higher quality fetches a better price. Cacao Verapaz positions themselves as resource to support farmers in increasing the quality of their cacao. CV has developed a tiered pricing system, offering more for A quality beans and a little less for B quality. But with the youthfulness of the industry, CV is simultaneously learning about what that means for each community through diligent feedback and data tracking. To describe all that CV does would fill a book, so I’m going to oversimplify some of the process in service of covering a broader slice of their work.

Field Support

Cacao Verapaz’s third employee, Roy Fraatz, is the technical assistant whose job is to spend most of his time in the field at the the 15 different associations that CV buys from. He teaches producers about best practices in the post-harvest process, and acts as a liaison between farmers and buyers. His role came about due to the demand for increased quality and reliability in cacao.

Quality Lab

The investment in their brand-spanking-new quality lab is a really exciting thing for the crew at Cacao Verapaz, chocolate makers like us, and producers. The lab looks not unlike our own R&D lab here at the Valencia Street factory, which makes our quality and flavor team drool (in a totally food safe way) a little.

: Entrance to CV’s quality lab

: Physical evaluation and cut test station

: Roaster and de-husking space

: Molds to create lot taste tests

: Mini-melanger used to make cacao liquor and paste

: Organoleptic (sensory) development characteristics station

Ultimately, the space is going to be used to develop better quality control systems for lot-by-lot tracking and data analysis. Among the many social and market based statistics they are gathering, the lab allows them to generate a better understanding of the cacao they’re buying and create quality standards for fermentation and drying to set their beans apart. A quality report is created for each lot that enters the lab, which is given to the farmers for feedback. Going forward, they hope to use this information to develop flavor profiles for each micro-region to be shared with chocolate makers.

“Our goal is to give feedback on the quality of cocoa to our suppliers and know the characteristics of taste and quality of our different suppliers.”

Marlon Ac, Director, Cacao Verapaz

Fermentation

Fermentation check cut test

We’ve seen fermentation done in so many different ways, many of which come about through trial and error. For example, the community of Adioesmac received beautiful and structurally sound fermentation boxes as a donation from John Scharffenberger years ago, and as part of Cacao Verapaz’s system for quality development, measurements like temperature, internal and external mold percentage, fermentation rates, moisture and seed indexes are all collected for each lot.

Tiered fermentation boxes from Scharffenberger

Fermentation temperature check

Once Cacao Verapaz began working with the community and testing fermentation statistics, they quickly realized that the boxes were way too tall to evenly rotate the cacao and some of the beans were getting too hot and unevenly fermented. Instead, the community reverted to two smaller boxes in the corner of the fermentation space. Now the larger boxes sit empty and serve as a reminder of their growth — or possibly a funky art piece.

Drying

More traditional style of drying – note the impending storm!

Stopping fermentation at just the right time, with just the right amount of acetic acid so that beans aren’t too bitter or astringent is, in a way, a lot harder than it seems. This is where we find another opportunity to develop better systems, and once again it happens through trial and error.

Traditionally, farmers in these communities had dried directly on the dirt backing their homes. Not only did this mean a prominent amount of rocks and critters were able to easily get mixed in, but there was a significant impact from human and animal contact that could disrupt the the drying process. The cacao was also extremely vulnerable to weather as it was constantly exposed to the geography of the tropics.

In order to address the inconsistencies of quality found in each family drying their own small lots, the community pooled together to dry communally on a concrete bed, reducing the amount of rocks, other crops and overall damage. The cacao here was still vulnerable to animals as well as exposed to weather which could cause the beans to mold. In response to this, Cacao Verapaz financed a raised and protected drying space.

The angled roof creates a slight greenhouse effect to promote quick drying, with plastic on the side that protects beans from weather and animals, and can be moved to allow for more consistent airflow. It’s also raised to guard against ground animals and curious children. And hey, it’s ergonomic!

Pedro Tiul working in the new drying space, while his son watches him from old, concrete beds.

Education

producer-visiting-finca-los-planes Farmers from the small community, Asochivite, visit the privately owned larger farm, Finca Los Planes.

Cacao Verapaz, as of this year, works with nine tiny communities and four larger, privately owned farms. Taking advantage of this relationship, CV coordinates regular “field trips,” if you will, with representatives from the small communities to visit larger ones for a more hands on approach to learning about best practices.

Cacao Verapaz also opens the door for farmers to learn from chocolate makers, and for chocolate makers to learn from farmers, by coordinating association visits.

Our Chocolate Sourcerer, Greg, discussing fermentation, drying and quality at Adioesmac.

One of the most frequent conversations I had with farmers went along the lines of “Hold on, what exactly do you do? What happens after you get the beans? I know how we use chocolate in a drinking form, but *while holding up a Dandelion chocolate bar* how does it get like this? How much does it cost? Why is it so expensive?”

Women of Adioesmac trying Dandelion chocolate made with their cacao.

For some farmers, the first time learning about what happens to their cacao, often their primary source of income, comes from a broken translation between English to Spanish to Quechi. That would be like me making chocolate all day (which I do) and having someone explain to me, twice translated, how it gets to a customer’s hand. As chocolate makers, we’re fortunate we don’t really have that gap. So, in my absolutely non-expert opinion, creating the space for inclusivity within the industry, between farmers and chocolate makers who may not be able to talk every day, seems to deepen the motivation for us all to create high quality relationships and high quality products, especially when we get the chance to learn together.

The experimentation and meticulous data collection Cacao Verapaz is doing is part of our industry’s effort to improve the quality of cacao, and our ability to communicate about what’s working. Ultimately, the more information there is available, the better able we’ll all be to make the best chocolate we can. That’s a win-win for everyone, including you!

A Dispatch from the Ferry Building Hot Chocolate Stand

October 13, 2016 by Maverick Watson

The Ferry Building is a lot of things: an iconic bayside tower, a commuter terminal, the beating center of local commerce in San Francisco, and it’s our home. We love the Ferry Building, and we’ve been happy to be a part of the community there for about two years.

Our Mission Hot Chocolate (with treat sleeve) on the Ferry Observation Deck

Our Mission Hot Chocolate on the Ferry Observation Deck

In February we upgraded from our small kiosk near the entrance to a full-fledged café, which we lovingly call our Hot Chocolate Stand, and moved around the corner. You’ll find the same retail offerings on our shelves in addition to our full beverage menu from our Valencia Street Cafe, and of course, our own Lisa Vega’s pastries. Last week we moved up our opening hours to 7am on Monday through Friday to provide Mochas (or just a cup of Four Barrel Coffee) to the commuters and downtown offices around us!

ferrybuildingshot

Our new spot is a tad less obvious than our old kiosk. We’re located outside of the actual building in the North Arcade alongside Marla Bakery, Fort Point Brewery, Blue Bottle Coffee and Sow Juice.

This is really exhausting.

We’re here every day, anytime you need some hot chocolate to go with the kale and persimmons you just got at the CUESA Farmer’s Market on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Occasionally, we have special events too! This week, as part of the Third Thursday “Night Cafe” put on by the Ferry Building, we will be pairing our chocolate with beers from Fort Point Brewery and making chocolate with a metate, the way the Maya have done it for centuries!

Next time you’re down at the Ferry Building, come by and let us make you a hot chocolate or a coffee. On a nice day, you can walk a little ways to sit down and watch the sea lions. Most of the time they’re just sleeping, but with a hot chocolate in hand anything can be interesting. Right?

What Does the Word “Artisan” Mean?

October 5, 2016 by Kristy Leissle

Kristy Leissle, PhD, known to many as Dr. Chocolate, is faculty in Global Studies and African Studies at the University of Washington Bothell. She researches and writes about the global cocoa-chocolate industry, especially West African agriculture and contemporary craft makers in the US and beyond. We’re big fans of Dr. Leissle, and thrilled to feature her voice on our blog. Below, she looks at the origin, power, and uses of the word “artisan,” and asks: What does it really mean?

Chocolate and the Industrial Revolution – (c) BNPS.co.uk – courtesy of Bill Fredericks

In the US today, our relationship with food is changing. More than half a century ago, when our country witnessed the rise of industrial agriculture and its chemical-propelled grain monocultures, our diets responded. Seeking food security after World War II, the US strove to grow more for less money, leaving anyone who eats food in the 21st century with a bevy of questions that were lost in the drive to make food cheap:

Who created this food? What were their priorities? Where are they and when did they harvest or process the food? How and why did they do that?

artisan-bread

Around the same time that these questions began to get more public attention, I noticed the word “artisan” appearing more frequently: most often on food packaging, but also in newspaper and magazine articles about food – especially food that was locally grown or made, and sold by someone who had been part of that process. Loaves of bread were artisanal, as were cheeses, pickles, jars of jam, sauerkraut, and cuts of meat. “Artisan” was everywhere, attempting to communicate…something. What I didn’t understand was exactly what it was trying to say. My interest in finding out led to a three-year research inquiry about the meaning of “artisan” for chocolate. This post is among the first publications of my findings.

I focused my methods on language, and made the most comprehensive list I could of all the new, non-global, bean-to-bar chocolate makers who were founded since 1997 (when Scharffen Berger opened) and selling commercially in the US. As of August 2015, I had identified 129. I searched their websites and bar packaging (exhaustively) for the word “artisan.” Nearly half – 48.8% – used it. At the 2014 NW Chocolate Festival in Seattle, I surveyed approximately 100 attendees for their understandings of “artisan.” Finally, I compared those findings to the historical meaning of “artisan.”

Historically, the definition of an “artisan” was specific, and concrete. Before the Industrial Revolution, “artisans” were a defined socio-economic group in Europe comprised of people who had reached a certain level of skill. To become an artisan, a person – almost always, a man – first had to be admitted to apprenticeship, either with a family member or acquaintance, or in a guild. Even then, the apprenticeship was long, and entry to “artisan” rank was tightly guarded. The apprentice worked towards mastering a craft: the ability to replicate a product precisely and reliably. Only when the trade master was satisfied with the apprentice’s skill level would he be awarded the title of “artisan.” The level of skill and quality required of artisans meant that consumers knew they could trust what those artisans made—including shoes from cobblers, wares from a blacksmith, and more. For the most part, “artisans” made things that people could not make for themselves, like horseshoes and work boots. For the many pre-Industrial peasants who grew and processed their own food, there was hardly such a thing as artisanal food.

As you can probably guess, the historical definition of “artisan” doesn’t exactly correspond to our contemporary ideas about what the word means (consider: artisanal yogurt, French fries, shampoo). The old, concrete definition contrasted with my research findings, which were wholly inconsistent. It seemed that chocolate makers who used “artisan” on their packaging were trying to communicate a variety of things.

Some used the word to convey a sense of history, others to indicate process (such as hand-wrapping bars), but mostly they suggested a host of different meanings, none of which pointed to a common “definition” within the industry. In these cases, “artisan” signified a range of things: for example, that the company was family-run, used local ingredients, or made chocolate that tasted delicious. My findings confirmed the hunch I’d started with: “artisan” had become a “floating signifier” in the world of chocolate marketing, which is to say that it had no stable referent in the real word. Compared to, say, “bread,” which consistently refers to a baked, edible, grain-based loaf, “artisan” didn’t refer to anything fixed. Chocolate makers used it loosely, in whatever way fit their story.

The consumers I surveyed had more consistent ideas about what an “artisan” is and does. Most of them defined “artisan” as someone who understands chocolate’s flavor and texture, and only a few linked “artisan” to a level of training or skill. Most of them associated the word with quality in a way that pitted “artisan” against “industrial” chocolate. Despite what seemed to be a pattern, even consumers were not totally consistent: when a question included an option to define “artisan” as a handmade process, respondents chose that, over any reference to flavor. Overall, it seemed there was hardly any agreement to be found, especially between chocolate makers and shoppers, about what the word meant.

At first, I interpreted that loss of meaning in a negative way. Chocolate makers weren’t answering important questions, or really saying much, by calling themselves “artisan,” and something about that felt disappointing. I thought it would have been more powerful to find that makers were using “artisan” to refer to something defined and distinct: maybe the company had only a few workers, or maybe their craftspeople had mastered every step of the chocolate-making process. It seemed to me that “artisan” needed a fixed meaning to have any power, in marketing or otherwise. If all or even most chocolate makers had offered a consistent definition, consumers would have specific, verifiable information about the product they were buying. But these days, “artisan” could mean anything, which is to say it means nothing at all. In my mind, the loss of meaning was a loss of power.

Photo courtesy of National Geographic and Confiserie Sprüngli Ag

But then, I realized that it wasn’t. Though chocolate makers offered different ideas about the word’s meaning, nearly all companies that used “artisan” to describe their chocolate did something equally as important: they told their story. On websites, at festivals, even on packaging, “artisan” chocolate makers shared many stories, about themselves, their processes, and their motivations. Regardless of its content, the fact of sharing this background or context seemed to add an indefinable value to the chocolate. Instead of offering a fixed meaning, “artisan” seemed to be a way of saying, “At this chocolate company, we can answer your questions about this food.” By using the word, “artisan” chocolate makers were making it clear that they were real people who cared about the food they made and could talk knowledgeably about it. If consumers wanted to know more about the chocolate they were buying, the “artisan” was there to share their expertise. In doing so, “artisans” set themselves implicitly against an anonymous factory of machines that churned out anonymous chocolate bars that told only the fictional story of a brand. This is, I believe, the same suggestion that consumers were making when they responded with “industrial” as the opposite of “artisan” chocolate. Instead of the historically fixed and universal meaning of “artisan” as someone who had achieved a master skill level, “artisan” now confirmed that real-life individuals were behind each chocolate bar. Factory machines did not dominate the process, people did.

One maker may use “artisan” because she prioritizes bringing out a certain, delicate favorite flavor profile with each batch, another because he is constantly experimenting with new inclusions, creatively pushing the “known” boundaries of chocolate’s flavor and texture. Some use it to express motivations. The word “artisan” applies to both those who make chocolate because it fulfills a need to work with their hands, and to those who want to work side by side with loved ones.

I discovered that a word with variable, unstable meaning can have more power than if it had a fixed meaning, because the people who use that word can wield it in different ways. In the case of “artisan,” consumers don’t seem to need a fixed meaning; the general feeling that it conveys, of real-life individuals making chocolate bars, seems to be enough to create trust.

That different stories converge upon the word is certainly a break from its historical definition, but that variability seems to work in the makers’ favor. Today’s new chocolate represents a shift away from the predominance of abundant, cheap food in the 1950s, and the word “artisan” communicates something of that shift to consumers. I think it tells us that the maker desires a more meaningful relationship with their craft than industrial monoculture and huge factories allow. By purchasing “artisan” chocolate, consumers are indicating that they too support an ethos of knowing one’s food, regardless of what particular meaning the maker evokes in his or her story.

Though chocolate makers and chocolate shoppers may not always agree on what “artisan” means, it nevertheless represents an agreement – a signal between them – that they are both reaching for meaningful food. And that is indeed a promising new beginning for the word.

Further results of my findings are forthcoming in the journal Food, Culture and Society.

New Pastry: Fig Tart!

September 27, 2016 by Lisa Vega

I love figs. When I was growing up in my mother’s house, we had a Black Mission fig tree in the backyard that produced the most delicious, plump little figs in the summertime. I especially love how they pair with chocolate—that syrupy sweetness with a tart edge on top of a classic, chocolatey chocolate. When figs came into season this year, I knew I wanted to do something with them.

To start, we grabbed a few Adriatic figs, which are a little rounder, greener, and sweeter than most (at least to me they are), some classic Black Mission figs, and opened our pantry door to see what we could make.

A tart is a perfect way to layer flavors and textures, and it offers a million ways to build dimension into your dessert. We started our R&D with a honey ganache in an almond sable crust, topped with sliced figs. It was delicious, sure, but a little too plain. To cut through those soft, sweet layers, we added a bit of goat cheese mascarpone on the bottom. Now, all it needed is a little texture: honeycomb! We boiled up some honey, sugar, and water, whisked in the baking soda and let it set into a flaky, crunchy honeycomb that melts on your tongue.

Like all good things, fig season won’t last forever. If I had to guess, I’d say we’ve got two more good weeks left until the figs are gone and the pumpkins are here. So drop in soon and get one while they last!

Tastes Good, Feels Good, Must Be Theobroma Cacao!

June 16, 2016 by Adam Kavalier

Adam Kavalier is the founder of Undone Chocolate in Washington D.C., and he also happens to be a plant scientist whom we like to reach out to when we’re trying to understand the compounds in our beans. Here, he explains the mysterious properties of Theobroma cacao, and why a plant would dare to taste so good.

tree2 Many plants are a source of nutrition for humans and animals, but some plants are so much more than just that. Some plants taste better than other plants, and some just feel good to eat. And then there is Theobroma cacao, a special plant at the intersection of those two worlds that tastes as good as it makes us feel. But why, if we look at this from an evolutionary perspective, would a plant create compounds that we like to eat, and more so, that make us feel good? What’s in it for the tree?

As far as plants go, Theobroma cacao is especially, unusually rich in compounds that impact the way humans feel and function. While it wouldn’t seem critical for T. cacao to make polyphenols (antioxidants), methylxanthines (stimulants), or biogenic amines—(the neurotransmitters that are released in the brain when we feel good and are in love)—all of these actually play a major role in the way a plant survives.

Plants produce sugars through their remarkable ability to photosynthesize, combining the sun’s energy with carbon dioxide and water to produce energy to survive. This process is the basic foundation for life, and the reason we are all alive and able to live on this green planet (and enjoy chocolate). The synthesis of sugars and other compounds such as amino acids, DNA, and RNA, gives a plant cells the ability to survive on a primary level. These compounds are therefore referred to as primary metabolites.

A second group of compounds that includes polyphenols, methylxanthines, and biogenic amines, are more indirectly associated with survival. These compounds are referred to as secondary metabolites. Plants are sessile, which means they cannot move like many other organisms, and therefore can more easily fall victim to predators that are looking to eat (in the case of animals), or infect (in the case of bacteria or fungus) them in order to fend for themselves.

It has been well documented for centuries that the difference between a medicine and a poison is often a matter of dosage. Many secondary metabolites are bitter and toxic to small plant predators but, luckily for us, can be medicinal in large mammals such as humans. So, while secondary metabolites can provide a defense system for plants against insect and animal predators, they can provide medicinal benefit to animals large enough in proportion to the dosage. It is known that theobromine (the most abundant methylxanthine in chocolate) can increase good cholesterol, or HDL levels, and the polyphenols in chocolate can have a positive impact on the vascular system which controls blood flow and blood pressure.

Although they can be toxic to small animals and plant diseases, the wonderful compounds in chocolate are incidentally good for human health, and have the added bonus of making us feel good and tasting delicious!

Cheers to healthy and tasty craft chocolate that makes you feel good!