The unique taste of chocolate delights the palate of people the world over. Where does chocolate come from, and how is it produced? Come with us as we travel through the history of chocolate.
BOTANISTS say that wild cacao trees likely grew in the Amazon and Orinoco valleys of South America thousands of years ago. The Maya may have been the first to cultivate cacao (also called cocoa), which they took with them when they migrated to the Yucatán. The Aztec royalty thrived on the bitter chocolate drink concocted by mixing ground cacao beans with fermented corn or wine, which was then served in golden cups. It is said that the Aztec Emperor Montezuma drank more than 50 cups of chocolate a day.
Spanish conquistador Hernán Cortés (1485-1547) was much more interested in the golden cups than the liquid inside, although he did note that the Aztecs used cacao beans as money. He wasted no time in establishing cacao plantations. These plantations of “brown gold” paid off, and Spain essentially controlled the cacao bean market into the 18th century.
The Spaniards took the beans to Haiti, Trinidad, and the West African island of Bioko. One pod of beans was taken from that island to mainland Africa, and now a cacao trade flourishes in four West African nations.
Chocolate in Europe
In the 16th century, Cortés introduced the chocolate drink of the Aztecs to the Spanish court. The ladies of the Spanish royalty secretly sipped their spiced and sometimes peppered beverage, keeping it to themselves. In time, the drink was introduced to the upper echelons of European society.
Europeans were enamored with the novel taste and also the supposed healing properties of chocolate. In 1763 the brewers of British beer and ale felt so threatened by the soaring popularity of chocolate that they called for legislation to restrict its manufacture. Fierce competition in the chocolate trade led some to add starches to make the chocolate go further. To intensify the color of the chocolate, the English even added a bit of brick dust! The demand for better and tastier chocolate kept growing.
The industrial revolution introduced mechanization into the manufacturing process of chocolate. When the steam engine began to be used to power chocolate mills, chocolate went from being hand-ground to machine-ground. Chocolate experienced an even greater change in 1828 when the Dutch chemist Coenraad van Houten learned how to separate the cocoa powder and butter from the paste of the ground cacao beans. As a result, innovators later created the precise combination of chocolate liquor (a thick dark paste), cocoa butter, and sugar to produce solid “eating chocolate.”
In the latter half of the 1800’s, the Swiss developed a process that further refined chocolate. In this process, known as conching, the paste of ground beans is passed between porcelain disks for many hours, creating a silky chocolate that melts on the tongue. Connoisseurs claim that the best chocolate is conched for no less than 72 hours.
Many clever entrepreneurs, such as Hershey, Kohler, Lindt, Nestlé, Peter, Suchard, and Tobler—names you may recognize from chocolate boxes today—made significant contributions to the chocolate industry, either by inventing more efficient machinery or by refining chocolate recipes.
A cacao tree
The Source of Chocolate
The tropical cacao tree grows best within 20 degrees north or south of the equator. It thrives in a shady and humid climate. The trees produce flowers and fruit all year long. The fruit of the cacao tree, a melonlike pod, grows directly from the trunk and lower branches.
A machete and pods
What happens on cacao plantations at harvesttime? The ripe pods are cut from the tree using machetes or bamboo poles fitted with sharp knives. The pods are split open to reveal between 20 and 50 beans embedded in a white bittersweet pulp. The beans are then scooped out of the husk by hand. During harvesttime, harvesters often work from dawn till dusk splitting the pods and scooping out the beans. The beans are then covered and left for several days. It is during this stage that the pulp ferments and chemical reactions turn the cacao beans chocolate brown. Next, the beans are dried, either by spreading them out in the hot sun or using hot-air blowers. Drying preserves them for shipping and storage.
There are basically two types of cacao beans, the Forastero and the Criollo. The Forastero is the standard, or base, bean, which makes up the greater part of the world’s production. The main cultivation areas are in West Africa, Brazil, and Southeast Asia. The Criollo is the flavor bean. It is cultivated on a much smaller scale in Central America, Ecuador, and Venezuela. It adds the nutty or floral nuances to chocolate.
Dried cacao beans
After the drying process, the cacao beans are ready to be packed into sacks and shipped to chocolate manufacturers around the world, mainly in Europe and North America. About two handfuls of these dried cacao beans will make one pound of chocolate candy. It is difficult to imagine that the bitter seeds of the cacao fruit can be transformed into the delicate confections that we find in a box of chocolates, but the process has essentially not changed for centuries.
The Making of Chocolate
Upon arrival at the factory, the beans are cleaned and sorted. In much the same way as coffee beans are roasted to bring out their best flavor, the cacao beans are now roasted to bring out the full chocolate aroma. The beans are then cracked open. The dark brown particles inside, the nibs, are the basis for all cocoa and chocolate.
The nibs are ground to produce a thick dark paste, called chocolate liquor. When hardened, it is sold as baking chocolate. The liquor is then subjected to high pressure—the process that Van Houten invented—and cocoa butter is extracted, leaving a residue of cocoa powder. If extra cocoa butter is added to chocolate liquor, the tasty blend is on its way to becoming the eating chocolate that we are familiar with. Conching and other refining processes work together to produce the type of chocolate that consumers prefer today.
White, milk, and dark chocolate
So the next time you enjoy the rich, velvety flavor of chocolate, take a moment to think about the long journey it has made from the bitter bean growing in the Tropics to the appealing chocolate confection before you.
HAVING been raised close to the original Mount Olympus in southern Europe, I was naturally curious about the Olympian qualities of a thumb of land thousands of miles away that extends into the Pacific from the edge of North America. A friend's mention of rain forests in that remote area—5,000 miles [8,000 km] northwest of the Amazon—was enough to lure me to Olympic National Park.
A little homework before the visit revealed that the 900,000-acre [350,000 ha] park, located in the northwest corner of the United States in Washington State, is an intriguing array of natural wonders. Here, beneath the Pacific mist that enfolds shoreline and timberline, one can discover large trees, jagged coastline, and some of the wettest weather on earth. The park has tall mountains, snowcapped and overrun with slow-moving glaciers, and a rain forest as mysterious and dark as any in the Amazon region.
In 1788 an English captain named the highest peak—rising to just under 8,000 feet [at just under 2,500 meters]—Mount Olympus, after the legendary home of the mythical gods of Greece. To preserve this untamed wilderness, Olympic National Park was established in 1938.
Rain Forests in North America?
Hoh rain forest
Glacier-capped Mount Olympus descends to the Hoh rain forest
On a pleasant autumn morning, Mike, a native of the area and a guide, waited for my wife and me at the park headquarters, in Port Angeles. A tall, barrel-chested man, Mike takes pride in showing the treasures of the rain forest to visitors like us. "The rain forests are perhaps the most extraordinary phenomena at Olympic," he said with evident exuberance. "The term is usually applied to tropical forests. Ours here are among the less extensive rain forests in temperate latitudes." When I ask for an explanation, Mike is quick with the math: The forests are fed by the abnormally high rainfall on the western slopes of the Olympic Mountains, ranging from about 80 inches [200 cm] a year near the coast to 150 inches [400 cm] or more along the river valleys in the foothills. Three valleys contain most of the rain forests: those of the Hoh, Queets, and Quinault rivers.
Our footsteps on the nearly two feet [.5 m] of duff on the forest floor are muffled. The thickness of the trees keeps out wind; even the rain that so frequently falls here filters down as a sort of green mist. The sun reaches us at the forest floor only in tiny, blurred patches. The softest birdsong seems loud, and occasionally deer flit like brown ghosts among the moss-laden trunks.
Why So Much Rainfall?
Moisture-laden clouds blowing inland from a warm Pacific coastal current are forced to rise by the high barrier of the Olympic Mountains. As the clouds ascend, they cool, and their moisture condenses into heavy rain or snow. Thus, the western slope of the mountains receives upwards of 140 inches [350 cm] of precipitation per year. Mount Olympus receives some 200 inches [500 cm], falling mostly as snow. However, land on its eastern side lying in what is known as a rain shadow stays comparatively dry.
Where Trees Sprout on Other Trees
Since the ground cover is so dense, seeds rarely get a chance to grow—which is why most of the biggest trees in the forest sprouted from nurse logs. These are fallen, decomposing trees that act as a fertile host to seeds that drop onto them. It is not uncommon to see several great trees growing in a line along one fallen giant, and the prevalence of nurse logs accounts for the occasional occurrence of colonnades of trees—as if they had been carefully planted in rows.
As we leave behind the level trails and climb higher into the Olympics, the forest changes, with record-size Pacific silver fir and alpine fir being the predominant species. Mount Olympus has 7 glaciers on its flanks, with ice 900 feet [300 m] thick in places, and there are more than 50 glaciers in the high country.
Flowers and deer
In the alpine meadows, there are many deer and unique plants, such as the Flett violet
Jagged Peaks and Glacier-Mantled Ramparts
The calories burned on that strenuous hike had to be replaced. Thus, our next day started with a hearty breakfast at a diner in Port Angeles. Arlene, our friendly waitress, was thrilled not so much with the rainfall in the area as with the snow. She insisted that we would see nothing of the wonders of the Olympics if we didn't visit higher ground toward the eastern snowcapped slopes of the park.
As we followed the road east of Port Angeles to Deer Park, we soon found ourselves on mostly steep unpaved roadway with a succession of hairpin turns. We were rewarded with a magnificent view both to the north and to the south, across the Strait of Juan de Fuca to Vancouver Island and toward the lofty, icy heart of the Olympic Mountains. In the alpine meadows, we could see numerous deer and some delicate plants that grow nowhere else on earth, including the piper bellflower and the Flett violet.
Next we came to Hurricane Ridge. It is easy to see why the road leading to it is a popular mountain highway in the park. It is a good road, starting near park headquarters and finishing at an altitude of 5,757 feet [1,755 m] in flowering meadows right on the edge of the Olympics. From there, the mountains extend into the distance to the south, a succession of snowy peaks with glaciers filling the valleys between them. As we gazed at the view, piled masses of clouds scurried across from the west.
The first avalanche lilies bloom as the snow withdraws from the meadows, and for the next three months, there is a succession of colorful flowers. Browsing deer can be seen against the splendid mountain backdrop, and sometimes mountain goats can be spotted clinging to the steep cliffs above the highway.
The Pounding Surf of the Pacific
Driftwood along Rialto Beach
Access to the very best of the Olympic beaches is for the hiker rather than the driver. Hiking through the woods from the eastern town of Forks, we reached beaches with tide pools that were full of endlessly fascinating marine life. Beyond Teahwhit Head, we came upon the Giants Graveyard, a confused offshore jumble of contorted rock formations that break the huge Pacific surges into foam. Trees along these shores are bent almost flat by the constant push of the battering wind off the sea. As we walked down into the gale, we were surrounded by beautifully shaped driftwood and smoothly polished stones.
For us the Olympic National Park experience was essentially one of wildness and timelessness. It filled us with awe for the Creator, "he in whose hand are the inmost depths of the earth and to whom the peaks of the mountains belong; to whom the sea, which he himself made, belongs and whose own hands formed the dry land itself.
Posted by Wincud TV at 12:49 AM