Speaking of Chocolate...

I was shopping at Central Market the other day and was excited to find someone sampling this brand of chocolate that I'd seen on the shelf and nearly bought on several occasions. I'd hesitated because it was pricey, because it contained vanilla (sometimes a bad sign) and because it was organic: I haven't liked much of the organic chocolate I've tried. (Vivani is a noteworthy exception.)

I tried the 70% bar and it was tasty. It was also pretty gritty, but I got the sense that the grittiness was deliberate, so I asked about it. It turns out they grind the chocolate using traditional grinding stones, so it doesn't get as smooth as chocolate processed with modern equipment.

It was interesting to stumble across this demo so soon after reading "The Chocolate Connoisseur". In that book Chloe Doutre-Roussel talks about enjoying traditional Mexican chocolate because it reminded her of the stuff she grew up with, even though she thought that most of it wasn't particularly good. I gathered from Taza's website that the company had been founded in 2006, after the book was published, and I think their chocolate falls into an entirely different category. Like Claudio Corallo, it seems that the proprietors have gone back to the fundamental building blocks in order to develop something new, yet fiercely true to the ideal of drawing out the essence of the bean. I think (hope) that Chloe would approve.

The Chocolate Connoisseur

1. This week I read through this lovely little book by Chloe Doutre-Roussel, who I've heard referred to on various occasions as the world's foremost expert on chocolate. She eats a pound a day--only the good stuff--but saves the early morning hours for tasting new, unfamiliar varieties, so she can do so before her taste buds have been clouded by other flavors.

As something of a culinary populist, I had to get past the word "connoisseur" in the title. I'm probably not going to change my chocolate tasting habits and follow the procedures outlined in the book, but I have to admit that I was pleased to learn that she highly recommends my all time favorite variety, Michel Cluizel's Mangaro.

Despite whatever ambivalence I may have had about the idea of learning to be an "expert," as someone who dearly loves chocolate, I found it delightful to read through several hundred pages written by someone who's dedicated her life to this wonderful food.

Trader Joe's Chocolate Sampler

1. I was at Trader Joe a few months ago and I noticed that by the cash registers they were selling stacks of chocolate bars from different parts of the world, as a sampler to taste and compare. They were selling the package for $10-I'd seen similar products for as much as $40. But I try not to buy things on impulse. When I see something I want I usually walk away from it, and if I find myself continuing to think about it, I go back and get it.

I went back for the chocolate bars a few days later but they were gone, and when I asked about them I was told that the distributor was out as well, and they'd be back some time during the coming year. I spotted them again a few weeks ago and this time I'd learned my lesson, so I bought them right away.

So far we've tried the varietals from Equador, Dominican Republic, and Ghana. I think this kind of product is intended for a group of people, say at a dinner party, where you can open all the bars and taste a little of each one after another. We've been opening one every day or two and finishing it so we don't end up with eight open chocolate bars. The ones we've tried have all been lovely--and a little different--but it's too much of a lag for us to really compare.

Still, we've been having a lot of fun with the package, so the next time I shopped at TJ I tried to pick up another one. Sure enough, they were gone. I guess I'll be enjoying this product every few months, when my timing is right.

Kallari Chocolate

I found this chocolate bar at Whole Foods the other day. The price was right and the packaging was appealing, so I went for it.

I've written before about my ambivalence towards Fair Trade products. Sure, I believe that folks should be fairly paid for their work, but I'm wary of some of the ways the label is used as a marketing tool, and I'm often singularly unimpressed with the quality of fair trade products.

This chocolate bar was interesting. (I say that even though I bristle when folks describe my food as "interesting". ) It was a bit grainy, and the flavor was kind of rough. But I couldn't tell whether the roughness was deliberate--like Michelangelo leaving some of his raw stone uncut for aesthetic reasons--or whether it was rough because the chocolatiers aren't as accomplished as some of the French processors who make a very smooth product.

Chocolate is one of the most complex flavors around. That's why it can be successfully mixed with everything from chiles, to cinnamon, to anise, to salt. It's lovely processed into a sleek, creamy bar, but there's also something to be said for a bar where you get to taste something closer to that magical, unrefined bean.

Alter Eco Chocolate

1. I found myself at Whole Foods the other day jonesing for a chocolate bar so I went and checked out their chocolate section, which I've mostly found disappointing the past year or so, since they stopped carrying some of the higher end varieties and focused instead on the fair trade and organic stuff. I have nothing against fair trade, organic chocolate--really I don't--but the varieties I like the most just don't fall in these categories. Besides, I find it hard to believe that you can make a truly fabulous artisan product with exploited labor and cut rate beans. Maybe I'm deluding myself, but I like to think that I can taste the difference, and I don't need a marketing label to tell me what to choose.

I noticed this line of chocolates made by Alter Eco, and I was intrigued because I'd bought some of their green tea a few weeks ago and thought it was really tasty. I got the one with almonds because it was the darkest variety on the shelf, and I was quite pleased with it. I was also impressed that this company has been able to market both good tea and good chocolate. It made me want to try their other products. I checked out their website and learned that they're French, which may help to explain their high standards.

Speaking of chocolate: the Mars company announced today that they're working with the governments of 14 African nations to develop a plan for sustainable cocoa farming on the continent. That's great news as far as the ongoing quest to take sustainable food mainstream. At the risk of sounding like a chocolate snob, though, it does validate my feeling that there's more to great chocolate than a fair trade label (although I'll bet that we'll start to see some higher quality chocolate from the Mars company.) I wonder if they'll be processing their sustainably raised cocoa with sugar from genetically modified sugar beets.

Chocolate from Madagascar

I've been slowly exploring the Madagascar section at Chocolopolis, and I've found some gems. In addition to my all time favorite, Mangaro, I've been impressed by the Bonnat bar from the region, and also the one made by Pralus. They really do have a distinctive flavor that the share, affirming the concept of terroir, often cited by winemakers, which holds that there are specific flavors characteristic of different regions. Most of the descriptions I read of Madagascar chocolate refer to its flavor as fruity, but it actually reminds me more of olives.

Claudio Corallo Chocolates on Market St.

There's a new chocolate shop on Market St. in Ballard, dedicated exclusively to the products of Claudio Corallo, an Italian producer who grows beans on the African island of San Principe and processes them on the neighboring island of Sao Tome.

The other day I did a bit of tasting and picked up a little something to take home. I found the texture of the chocolate a bit grainy but I loved the flavor, which was complex and honest, even challenging in a way. With some of my favorite dark chocolates I'm satisfied eating just a little because they perfectly hit the spot. This chocolate left me wanting more because I felt like I hadn't quite understood what I'd tasted.

But more than the chocolate itself, I was really drawn to the shop's business model. It's owned by the folks who handle every step of the process, from growing the beans, to fermenting, processing, shipping and marketing them. These beans may be grown halfway around the world, but this is one short supply chain.

A Trip to Chocolopolis

Yesterday I visited Chocolopolis, the new chocolate shop on Queen Anne. As I expected, it felt rather boutiquey, but you probably have to go for that feel if you're opening a shop in that neighborhood. It did feel like a shrine and, as someone who experiences awe in the face of the magical cacao bean, I felt appropriately reverent.

The chocolates are arranged by region. I told the salesperson that my all time favorite chocolate bar is Michel Cluizel's Mangaro, and she pointed out that, because it's from Madagascar, I should try other varieties from the same area. It was a good suggestion, and I'll probably take her up on it next time around.

This time I bought a bar made from beans grown in Northeastern Brazil. My sweetie is Brazilian, and I'd never run into a Brazilian chocolate bar before, so I couldn't resist. I also picked up a bar from a company called Askenosie, which had a photo on the front of the farmers who grew the beans. I loved the packaging, which was deeply rustic and had a piece of twine at the top.

I checked out the company's website, which explained that the proprietor personally meets each of the growers who supplies his beans, pays them more than they would receive with a fair trade arrangement, and even offers them profit sharing. The chocolate was good (although for flavor alone, I'd still choose Mangaro,) but I'm really glad to have discovered this company. I'm partial to approaches that creatively circumvent programs like organic certification and Fair Trade, especially when they exceed the certification program's standards, and rely on their own outreach to communicate about the integrity of their practices.

Chiles and Chocolate

I'm intrigued by the combination of chiles and chocolate, because they are both indigenous to the Americas, and Aztec cuisine used them together in both sweet and savory dishes.

I first tasted a chocolate bar with chiles a few years ago. If I remember correctly, it was made by Flyer Chocolates, and it was extremely spicy. I love spicy foods, but here the heat overwhelmed the chocolate, and nothing should overwhelm chocolate. I checked their website and didn't see it listed among their products so they may have stopped making it, or maybe I'm mistaken about the brand.

I few weeks ago I encountered another chocolate-chile combination in a delightful sampler pack made by Lake Champlain Chocolates. The chile in this confection was less aggressive, and it also had a pumpkin seed, which I thought was a great touch since the Aztecs also enjoyed pumpkin seeds in both sweet and savory dishes. There was also a hint of cinnamon, which is an Old World food, but is commonly used in Mexican chocolate today. It was subtle enough to work.

This week I encountered my favorite chocolate-chile combination to date, in a bar made by the Italian company BruCo. The package said it was "inspired by the fine Mexican chili, the 'ancho.'" It had a layer of very dark chocolate that contained no chile, and inside was a sweeter layer of milk chocolate, which contained the chiles, as well as a tiny taste of salt. Like the Lake Champlain bar, the chile was not too hot, and balanced well with the chcocolate.

The experience of eating it was like listening to a tale told by an expert storyteller. The outer layer had that complex bitterness of fine dark chocolate, eased by an perfect smoothness. By the time I got to the center, the taste grew much sweeter, but then the chile kicked in, not enough to burn, but just enough to offset the sweetness. The salt added another dimension to the balance.

I'll keep trying chocolate-chile combinations, but for now I have a winner.

Climate Change Chocolate

I came across this curious item while shopping at Shoreline's Central Market, and I figured I'd better bring some home with me and take a closer look.

In general, I'm suspicious of green marketing, especially when it doesn't have the slightest trace of subtlety. I also figured I should taste the stuff before I got snarky about it.

The chocolate itself was perfectly respectable, although I wish they had a variety with a higher cocoa content.

The inner wrapper had all kinds of helpful information to help you reduce your carbon footprint, like "Turn off the lights," and "Ride your Bicycle." (Gee thanks! I'd never thought of that.)

The chocolate bar is a collaborative effort between a New Zealand chocolate company named Bloomsberry, and the organization Terrapass, which sells carbon offsets, an arrangement where you invest in green projects in order to balance the damage your car is doing to the environment. The package says that for every chocolate bar you buy, Terrapass will purchase 133 miles worth of carbon offsets.

I went to their website and did the math. That's 66 cents worth of carbon offsets, out of the $5 cost of the chocolate bar. Now, I'll gladly pay $5 for a great chocolate bar, and this one certainly wasn't bad, but when I want to buy chocolate I'll buy chocolate, and when I want to buy carbon offsets, I'll buy carbon offsets.

Speaking of carbon offsets, a friend of mine likens them to the indulgences that the medieval church sold to sinners: pay this amount, and you'll be absolved!

It also struck me as odd that there wasn't a word on the package about the chocolate being organic or fair trade. Given the other heavy handed environmental claims, it's hard to imagine that they're using fair trade, organic chocolate and simply not saying so.

I buy plenty of chocolate that's not certified fair trade or organic. The way I see it, really fine chocolate takes love and care to produce, and it's not the kind of product that you can make with exploited workers or plantations that are so massive that you have to spray them heavily to keep the pests away. Still, it seems bizarre to me that these guys missed such an obvious opportunity to take their green marketing to a whole new level.