Two global trends in chocolate: Some days it seems that all the buzz is about artisanal, single origin, estate grown chocolate. It’s a trend that requires the consumer to appreciate subtle nuances of flavor: the difference, say, between cacao grown in Venezuela and Ghana, between varieties of beans--trinitario, forestario or criollo—and even, at its most focused, between cacao grown on different plantations. You could call it reductio ad—our Latin fails us here—but let’s call it a move towards the simplest, most exquisite expression of the individual cacao bean—none of which would be possible, of course, without the invisible, but all-important hand of the chocolatier.
The other trend takes off in the opposite direction: spicing up chocolate with a giddy merry-go-round of flavors. This is hardly new, of course—hazelnuts, Grand Marnier and mint are staples of the trade. What is new is the range of edgy flavors and the quality of the chocolate. In Los Angeles, for example, L’Artisan du Chocolat combines good dark chocolate with tomato, basil and fennel, while in San Francisco, Michel Reicchiuti offers a stellar line of dipped chocolate ganache infused with pink peppercorn and star anise. Lavender is a favorite flavoring, as are curry, wasabi and chili peppers. Somewhere in the world there’s a place for Junior Mints, but not here.
Flavored chocolate was familiar stuff to the ancient Aztecs. In The True History of Chocolate, Sophie D. Coe and Michael D. Coe write that in pre-Conquest Mexico, there was not one form of chocolate, but many. It was drunk cold, sugarless and with a froth achieved by pouring from one cup to another. But it was rarely quaffed plain. They cite Fray Bernardino de Sahagun, who, in his 12-volume General History of New Spain (written after the Conquest of 1521), described the varied chocolate drinks served to the Aztec ruler:
“Then by himself, in his house, his chocolate was served: green cacao-pods, honeyed chocolate, flowered chocolate, flavored with green vanilla, bright red chocolate, huitztecolli-flower chocolate, black chocolate, white chocolate.”
The most treasured chocolate flavoring among the Aztecs was the “thick, ear-shaped petal of the flower of Cymbopetalum penduliflorum,” also known as hueinacaztli, which was said to taste like black peppercorns with “a hint of resinous bitterness”. There were other flowery flavorings, but also high on the list were the many types of chilies grown in Mexico, dried and ground to a fine powder and then mixed with cacao. As the Coes observe, “given the extraordinary array of chillis grown in Mexico, [the drink] could be anywhere from mildly pungent to extremely hot.”
Not long ago on a bitterly cold, windy day, we ducked into Vosges Chocolat in New York’s SoHo where we recovered our bodily heat with a spicy draught of Aztec Elixir, a very rich, smooth, dark chocolate flavored with ancho and chipotle chilies, Mexican vanilla and a trace of cinnamon. Served in a tall, narrow glass, it was undoubtedly more elegant than the Moctezuma’s rustic drink, but we probably shared the same warm afterglow. Vosges also has a bittersweet Oaxaca Bar, which marries Tanzanian cacao (75 percent) with guajillo and pasilla chilies—neatly bridging both trends in the current world of chocolate. Go to www.vosges.com.
For more on chocolate in the New World, see The True History of Chocolate, Sophie D. Coe and Michael D. Coe, Thames & Hudson, 1996.