At Earth Loaf, in Mysore, David Bello is making a coconut, ginger and gondhoraj chocolate bar. Jane Mason at Mason & Co in Auroville is creating coconut milk chocolate. Luvin Paryani of Indah is working on peppermint-infused bars in Pune. Then, there’s Devansh Ashar, blending roses with chocolate in Daman.
Unfortunately, the word ‘artisan’ has taken a beating in recent years, conjuring up self-indulgent, overpriced, aspirational tourist tat. So have the rest of the words I would normally use to describe this chocolate — gourmet, hand-made, organic and locally-sourced.
Fortunately, I have some adjectives left in my arsenal. Single-origin, bean-to-bar and proudly desi. Not intrigued yet? The cocoa beans are processed in idli wet grinders. Good, old-fashioned Indian jugaad. You have to admit that’s endearing. Though, to be honest, the idea is not Indian at all.
Years ago, a couple of Peruvian chocolate makers discovered our clever steel-meets-stone grinders when on holiday here, and carted one back. As it turned out, with a few modifications, they’re ideal to grind cocoa beans. More importantly, they cost less than Rs. 5,000.
I’m incessantly delighted by the Indian bean-to-bar movement. Admittedly, not all the chocolate is great. Made by hand in tiny factories by, more often than not, amateurs, these feisty boutique chocolate makers don’t have the slick professionalism or smooth dependability of the big companies. But, therein lies the charm: the irresistible David and Goliath story.
In a bid to keep their products proudly local, these producers are deliberately working with Indian Forestero beans, even though they don’t have the flamboyant flavour profiles of Criollo beans grown in Madagascar, Columbia and Venezuela. And in the process, creating a product that has much more personality, depth of flavour and complexity than an average commercial chocolate bar.
Professional chocolate taster and educator Nitin Chordia explains why the British planted Forestero, when they brought cacao (the beans) here in the 1930s, and why it is still widely grown in India. “It is disease-resistant, less fragile, and involves less investment.” It’s ideal for commercial use as compound chocolate. “Here, the cocoa butter is extracted and sold to the cosmetic industry. The powder left is ground with vegetable oils, then mixed with milk and sugar. Finally, chocolate flavouring is added,” says Nitin, adding that these bars are about 65 per cent sugar.
Creating a bean-to-bar chocolate is a much more fussy process. It take about two days, compared to a commercial factory where cacao is processed into chocolate in five hours. Producers work with selected farmers, collaborating on the drying and fermenting process. Cacao grows wherever coconut and coffee grow: so, there are lush plantations in much of Kerala, Pollachi in Tamil Nadu and Coorg, Karnataka. Once beans reach the chocolate maker, they are roasted (or, sometimes, left raw), then ground, tempered and moulded. Unlike with commercial makers, cocoa butter is retained to keep a natural creaminess.
The lack of intense natural flavours has been an unexpected boon for consumers — it has forced local chocolate makers to find innovative ways to make their bars more complex. “In Ecuador, it would be criminal to add flavour. The bean has so much to offer,” says Nitin, discussing what pushed the Indian cacao artisans to think outside the box. Instead of relying on easy fixes such as sugar or artificial flavouring, pioneers like David and Jane began experimenting with indigenous ingredients. Their goal? To enhance flavours instead of simply overriding them with boring sugary homogeneity.
David’s cacao is single-origin, now sourced from Karnataka or Kerala. He says south Indian beans have a fruity, zesty flavour, so they use palmyra sugar to add notes of fruit, licorice and a long finish. Jane says her flavours depend on what grows around her — so Mason bars are spiked with chilli, cinnamon and oranges.
What makes this especially intriguing is the fact that neither of them comes from a chocolatier background.
Jane, an Australian, moved to India to practise yoga. David, a Greek mixologist-turned-bread maker from London, moved to Mysore to pursue a variety of projects, none of which involved chocolate.
“The truth is, it’s a scientific process, but it’s not rocket science,” says Nitin, explaining how companies like these, founded by people with no formal chocolatier training, succeed. “Chocolate was being made for 100 years. And, the process has been exactly the same for 100 years,” he says.
However, it’s not easy to stand out in what is becoming an increasingly crowded market. “In a year, I predict there will be about 40 new bean-to-bar makers in India. Kerala already has 10!”
