The Soul of Chocolate

Driving the narrow winding roads that snake through a jungle of mango, banana and palm trees, Silvino Reyes slows the Land Rover and points toward a row of smaller trees nearly invisible under the dense rain forest canopy.

“There, beyond the vines and banana trees,” he says, giving me my first view of Venezuela’s famed cacao trees.

“At first, most people can’t tell the difference, but once you see them close up, you’ll be able to distinguish them anywhere in the valley,” says Reyes, a robust 38-year-old Venezuelan who has spent nearly all his life around cacao.

Here in the fertile valley of Barlovento, about an hour east of Venezuela’s capital, some of the world’s finest cacao grows in century-old plantations like the one owned by Reyes and his wife Ana. And it is from the nuts of these cacao trees that chocolate is made.

The cacao tree is said to have come from South America, near the Orinoco-Amazon region, and was brought north to Mexico by the Mayas in the 6th century. By the time the Spanish arrived in the region, xocolatl, a beverage of roast cacao beans, was a favorite among the Aztec elite, who are said to have sipped it from golden cups, adding spices and flowers to enhance its flavor.

Eventually chocolate would tantalize the palate of Spaniards and other Europeans, and by the 1600s it was served in coffee shops around London and Paris.

Today most of the world’s finest chocolates are made in Europe, but its roots are found in this Caribbean nation, not in Belgium, France or Switzerland.

Once the world’s top producer of cacao, Venezuela was exporting about 20,000 tons annually from the late 1880s to the early 1920s. By the 1970s, cacao production had dropped to less than 8,000 tons. Today it produces slightly less than 13,000 tons, about 1% of the cacao sold around the world.

The severe drop was blamed on the discovery of oil, Venezuela’s other export. Oil drilling attracted erstwhile farm laborers; that, coupled with the government’s nationalization of cacao production in the mid-1970s, nearly crippled the industry. Experts say the quality of the cacao bean dropped, and many farmers eventually abandoned their farms.

It was only recently that Venezuela began to recover its reputation as the grower of premier cacao beans, thanks to the effort of the country’s leading chocolate exporter, El Rey.

Good chocolate begins with the most basic ingredient: the cacao bean. There are basically three types: Criollo, Forestero and Trinitario. Forestero beans are hardier and Criollo and Trinitario (a hybrid of Forestero and Criollo) are more aromatic.

It’s the Criollo bean, with its rich, fruity taste, that is the secret ingredient in fine chocolate. It has brought companies like Valhrona, considered by many the world’s finest chocolate maker, to Venezuela.

Here in Barlovento, the local bean is a Criollo-Trinitario cross called Carenero Superior. Standing next to a small arching cacao tree, Reyes gives me a quick lesson in how cacao is made. It begins with the small white flowers that blossom along the tree’s trunk and branches. These grow into small reddish brown pods, about the size of a miniature squash, that hang from the tree, giving it an odd appearance.

“This is how you’ll come to recognize them anywhere you see them,” he says. But the pods don’t bloom overnight. It can take up to five years for a cacao tree to produce its first crop of beans.

There are two harvest seasons: late autumn and early spring. The pods are cut from the trees with machetes and taken to farms like Reyes’, where they are transformed into flavorful little kernels.

Though nature dictates the climate for the cacao tree, it’s up to farmers like Reyes to bring out the taste and personality of the bean. Fermentation is the first step. “This is when each farmer can begin to bring out the character and aroma of the bean,” says Reyes.

At first glance, the beans don’t look very appetizing. Covered in a white fleshy pulp, they are tossed into wooden stalls in an old adobe building at Reyes’ farm, La Concepcion. Here the beans will rest for several days, turned daily to ensure they will acquire an even flavor and aroma.

Fermentation helps rid the beans of any acidity and increases their sweetness. It can take from two to six days, depending on the variety of the bean. The better the bean, the less time is needed. Criollo beans are fermented in as few as two days.

Once the beans lose their bitterness, they are put out to dry. Traditionally this process has been done on large outdoor patios, but Reyes is hoping to infuse more flavor into the beans by using special wooden racks. The bean absorbs some of the flavor of the wood, “giving it a very rich taste,” Reyes says.

The cacao is left out to dry for approximately four to five days, just enough time for the beans to lose most of their moisture and begin turning the dark brown color most of us associate with chocolate. Once dried, the beans are sorted and ready to be bagged.

Standing inside the 100-year-old storage area of La Concepcion, I am overcome with the mellow aroma from the bags of cacao. It is a smooth, earthy blend of wood, fruit, nuts and chocolate that conjures up images of rich mole sauces, of bittersweet truffles and sweet hot chocolate drinks.

Reyes hands me a handful of small beans, splitting them open to reveal nibs the size of tiny raisins. These nibs are my first taste of what real chocolate is all about. It’s fruitier, smokier and more aromatic than any chocolate I’ve ever tasted.

“It’s good because I control the entire process to ensure it has a really smooth even taste,” he says, smiling with obvious pride.

At this point most farmers ship the beans to processors who transform them into chocolate products such as cacao butter and cocoa powder.

Most of Reyes’ beans will be sent to buyers in Europe and Japan, but some of the premier nibs are sent to Chocolates El Rey, one of the oldest chocolate makers in Venezuela. Until recently, the products were virtually unknown to U.S. pastry chefs and stores. But over the last few years, they have started popping up in specialty shops and in the hands of pastry chefs at many of America’s finest restaurants.

“We use all El Rey chocolate,” says Nancy Silverton, co-owner and pastry chef of Campanile, “because of the bean they use and the way they manufacture it. When you become accustomed to eating and working with a high-end chocolate like El Rey, it’s very noticeable when you use a lesser quality. You can just taste the difference. Someone recently brought me another brand of chocolate and, while the chocolate looked fine, they didn’t realize the bean was moldy.”

Silverton uses the cacao and even the nib in desserts such as a milk chocolate ice cream served with toasted nibs dipped in caramel.

For nearly 20 years, Venezuelan cacao has been fighting an image battle. The problem began at the turn of the century, when large oil reserves were uncovered in the country. Cacao took a back seat to oil production, and many of the large plantations languished.

The problems mounted in the 1960s and ‘70s, when a government-sponsored agrarian reform act broke up the large farms and created financial problems for small and large cacao growers alike.

In the ‘70s, the government created a central cacao bank, to which farmers were required to sell their cacao. The beans were all mixed together, regardless of grower or quality, and the results were disastrous. Growers grew frustrated and abandoned their farms, and buyers grew wary of being sold an inconsistent product.

In early 1991, however, the government abandoned the plan, allowing farmers to once again sell their products directly to chocolate makers. By then, production was just a fraction of what it had been in its heyday.

“People hadn’t been on top of their farms, and that meant all sorts of problems,” says Jorge Redmond, president of El Rey and the force behind a plan to restore Venezuela’s reputation as the home of fine cacao. “We have the best cacao, but we produce less than anyone else.”

Over the last five years, with the help of Redmond and farmers like Reyes, Venezuela’s fame as the home of exquisite cacao is being restored.

It isn’t just politics, however, that has kept Venezuelan cacao from becoming a household name.

“We are starting to change the idea that chocolate products all come from Europe,” says Redmond, adding that consumers are slowly learning about the cacao.

“People think chocolate and think because it comes from Europe, it must be better. But I think all that is slowly beginning to change.”

Venezuela is already attracting European chocolate-makers, including Valhrona and smaller entrepreneurs.

“I am from Belgium, and there we are known for our chocolate,” says Ludo Gillis, owner of La Praline, an exclusive chocolate-maker in Caracas. “But we also know that the best cacao comes from Venezuela.”

Gillis and his wife moved to Venezuela in 1985 in search of the famed cacao. La Praline makes more than 50 types of truffles and pralines that have been served to dignitaries including Pope John Paul II and President Clinton.

Though Gillis says he is the mastermind behind the chocolate, he acknowledges that it’s at least in part the beans that make his sweet treats so special.

“Venezuelan cacao is the Rolls-Royce of cacao,” he says. “I think it’s the flavors and aroma that are so unique. You can open a box of chocolates made from good cacao, and the aroma is just overwhelming. That is what Venezuelan cacao is.”

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Chocolate Sources

You can find Venezuelan chocolate made by El Rey at many stores throughout Southern California. They include: Beverly Cheese Store, 419 N. Beverly Drive, Beverly Hills (310) 278-2855; Pacific Coast Green, 22601 Pacific Coast Highway, Malibu (310) 456-0353; Say Cheese, 2800 Hyperion Ave., Glendale (323) 665-0545; and all Sur La Table stores and Whole Foods markets.