Chocolate Stories
My complicated relationship with chocolate and the golden age of Swiss Chocolate.
I unlocked the door to my kitchen loft at 7:25 on a cold and windy October morning. The air in the loft was thick with the smell of melting chocolate. Two small devices were humming on the 3-meter-long kitchen island. They did their job overnight, gently melting 5 kilos of wild Bolivian dark chocolate and 5 kilos of Venezuelan milk chocolate. I gathered eight polycarbonate chocolate molds, prepared piping bags, dipping forks, and more chocolate. I grabbed my instant-read infrared thermometer and checked the temperature of the melted chocolate. It was time to begin the tempering process so I could eventually turn my chocolate into creative pralines, truffles, and chocolate bars...a 12-hour day of work that would earn me a net profit of less than 100 Swiss Francs...or about $100.
The romance of trying to become a chocolate producer in Switzerland eventually collides with the reality of high costs, long hours, and the stress of working with a temperamental product that can quickly turn into disappointment and vanishing income. Every detail in the production process must be carefully monitored and executed. A 2-degree variance in temperature can ruin the entire production. A sudden change in humidity causes the same fate. The risks are high – even higher for small producers like me, who can’t afford to invest in machines that automate and manage the process more efficiently.
The thought of working for nearly nothing to produce something I wasn’t even sure how to sell seems ridiculous. Getting everything exactly right became an obsession. It was a drug...and I was addicted.
My relationship with chocolate has always been filled with complication and contradiction. I wrote the following in an earlier piece I called Chocolate, Cookies and a Few Kisses:
Chocolate was a mystery to me early in my life. I knew I liked it – who didn’t? But like most people, I didn’t know much about chocolate apart from what I learned from commercials. I felt satisfied living in chocolate ignorance. After all, did I really need to know the melting points of the 10 fatty acids typically found in chocolate?
That all changed when I unplugged from the customary American life I was leading and enrolled in culinary school. Suddenly, I started to appreciate chocolate on an entirely different level...and yes, understanding those melting points helped me create chocolate with a shiny exterior and snappy consistency...and that was a coolness vibe I embraced.
Learning to master chocolate became an exclamation point in my immature chef life – a skill I could demonstrate to others that would create a kind of wow moment. It fed me. It defined me. It gave me purpose. Making and sharing my chocolate creations allowed my ego-driven sensation to swell.
And then I grew tired of all things chocolate.
Despite some modest success, I eventually gave up on the idea of producing chocolate; the risks and costs were too high. It was an addiction that might have led me to the same fate as Montezuma...and my ego couldn’t accept that.
The Aztec emperor Montezuma believed chocolate had powers as an aphrodisiac. Though he ate very little, he would drink over fifty portions of foaming bitter chocolate daily from golden cups – thinking the drink would help him gain easy access to women. The Spanish explorer Cortés was intrigued and, no doubt, impressed; he brought his convictions and chocolate back to Europe. Montezuma, though, experienced a different fate – he allegedly died of malnutrition.
Who knows if that legend is completely accurate – I certainly don’t. But it does demonstrate how chocolate stories of an elixir promising love and strength to those who consume it can ultimately lead to behavior that’s on par with low-grade addicts.
Chocolate evolved after arriving in Europe in the 16th century. The Spanish added sweeteners to chocolate – mostly lower-costing honey instead of expensive sugar – to offset the rough bitterness of this new beverage. Variations of this chocolate brew fascinated a small niche of upper-scale Europeans eager to indulge in the taste of the New World. They were enchanted by the implied effects of increased strength and a more active love life. Chocolate became a kind of ecstasy of the time; its popularity and mysticism grew in the hidden rooms of chocolate ‘bars’ catering to the upper echelon of European society.
Chocolate Arrives in Switzerland
Chocolate was first introduced to Switzerland in 1697 by Zürich’s mayor, Heinrich Esher, who encountered it during a trip to Brussels. Like other European regions, the wealthy discreetly consumed chocolate until 1722, when the Zurich council banned its sale and consumption due to its abhorrent and non-virtuous reputation as an aphrodisiac.
The chocolate ban in Zürich lasted about 30 years.
South of the Alps in Northern Italy near Turin, chocolate was developing differently. The aristocracy was declining, and expensive chocolate drinks fell out of favor and were replaced with more middle-class coffee and tea, while solid forms of chocolate grew in importance. Traveling “cioccolatieri” were producing and selling their new form of the chocolate bar by moving around the country and offering a new chocolate experience.
Traveling journeymen came to Italy from other countries to learn this new trade, which was particularly attractive to young Swiss men who lived in the poor regions south of the Alps and searched for new opportunities in life. In the mid-18th century, two emigrants crossed the border and returned to Switzerland to open the first chocolate factory near Bern. However, skeptical locals resisted this new chocolate factory, especially the smell, and the venture quickly failed.
Nevertheless, chocolate pioneers continued to arrive in Switzerland from neighboring Italy. They brought their new skills and settled in western Switzerland near Vevey, Lausanne, and Morges to establish Swiss chocolate factories during the late 18th and early 19th centuries.
The Golden Age of Swiss Chocolate
The most active period in the development of chocolate was unquestionably the 100 years between 1800 and 1900. Not surprisingly, the advances made during this era were primarily Swiss-led and eventually resulted in a fifty percent market share of the world’s chocolate production. It was an incredible period led by a handful of Swiss entrepreneurs who perfected innovations that impact today’s chocolate production.
Francois-Louis Cailler was one of the many Swiss apprentices who studied in Turin. He returned to Switzerland in 1819 and opened a chocolate factory near Vevey in Canton Vaud, the oldest factory still used today. Cailler was able to figure out a new automated method of mixing ingredients that significantly reduced the cost of production.
Philippe Suchard reacted to the increased demand resulting from the improvements made by Cailler. In 1826, Suchard added to the manufacturing improvements and developed a new mixing machine that more efficiently combined cocoa powder and sugar. The basic method of Suchard’s new machine is still in use today.
Despite Suchard’s new mixing method, his company did not enjoy early success in selling chocolate to a skeptical Swiss market, which stubbornly regarded chocolate as suspiciously exotic. Then, in 1842, Suchard received a break. His company received a substantial order from the royal court in Berlin – perhaps made possible because the king of Prussia held joint ownership of canton Neuchâtel, where the Suchard factory was based. The order opened a new international market for Suchard, which was more appealing and willing than his home market. He went on to become the first Swiss chocolate maker to open a factory outside of Swiss borders.
In addition to the technical advances credited to Suchard, he was also brilliant in marketing chocolate. In 1876, Suchard made a bold and calculating move to try and change the perception of chocolate as a luxury food primarily consumed by women. He introduced chocolate to the military. His success was immediate, and the military began to issue Suchard chocolate as rations for those called up to guard the borders. By the time World War I erupted, Suchard had managed to convince most armies in Europe to stock his chocolate as standard rations. By the end of Suchard’s life, his company produced 50% of all Swiss chocolate.
By the mid-1800s, Swiss chocolate producers were already competing ferociously with one another for the bulk of the market. Many producers began looking for ways to distinguish their products from their rivals. It was during this period that Charles-Amédée Kohler invented hazelnut chocolate, but it was another Swiss, Daniel Peter, who made an even more significant impact.
Peter became interested in chocolate after marrying the daughter of Francois-Louis Cailler. Like many others during this time, he was unsuccessful in blending milk and chocolate. After years of research and experimentation, fate intervened. According to historical records, the Peters had a baby daughter who had trouble breastfeeding. A neighbor, Henri Nestlé, offered a solution – his newly invented condensed milk product he developed in 1868. Peter was inspired. Just seven years after Nestlé’s invention, Peter successfully developed the first milk chocolate drink. Five years later, the first milk chocolate bar was produced using Nestlé’s powdered and condensed milk.
Milk chocolate was an instant success. The bitter taste of chocolate was eliminated, and the cost of production was significantly reduced. Producers could use a lower percentage of expensive cocoa by introducing powdered or condensed milk. The impact also helped Swiss dairy farmers enjoy increased demand and significantly higher earnings.
Around the same time, Rodolphe Lindt developed a process that enabled him to successfully produce the first “melting” or “fondant chocolate” that enhanced the mouth appeal of chocolate. His method for ‘conching’ chocolate involved three days of processing in a giant conch-shaped machine he invented. This new process improved the texture of chocolate by eliminating the sandy feel in the mouth. The constant gentle heating of the chocolate during the processing had the positive side effect of turning the chocolate into a quasi-liquid solution, which made pouring chocolate into various molds much easier.
The milk chocolate and melting chocolate developments opened the door to other new inventions. In 1899, Theodor Tobler opened a chocolate factory in Bern with his father, Jean. Nine years later, the Toblers developed the triangular milk chocolate bar with honey and nougat, which has become one of the world’s most recognizable chocolate shapes.
I remain interested in chocolate, although I no longer feel addicted. I mindlessly think of the Swiss chocolate entrepreneurs of the 19th century whenever I wander through a supermarket aisle and see those names still appearing on brands that have changed hands many times. I see Suchard, Cailler, Tobler, and occasionally Peter. And I definitely encountered Lindt, a popular world brand that still produces chocolate near Zürich.
I’ll pick up a bar occasionally to read the ingredients...a list much larger than anything produced during those golden ages of Swiss chocolate. Today, it’s all about shelf life and cost reduction, which is reflected by the use of palm oil, anhydrous milk fat, emulsifiers, maltodextrin, glucose, fructose, and many other ingredients I don’t want to ingest.
The soul of chocolate feels lost to me. That wow moment that once defined me as a chef and wannabe chocolatier no longer exists. It feels like I left everything on the counter, turned out the lights, walked out the door, and left the chocolate on the counter to fill the air with the stale stench of progress polluting the air.
I walk away.
Soon, I begin to think about my stance on honey. What about coconut fat or palm oil – how do I feel about those ingredients? What about meat replacements and processed vegan foods? There’s always more to consider. Eating feels complicated. I feel like eating a small piece of dark chocolate to soothe my grumpy nerves.
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I thoroughly enjoyed learning the history of chocolate! This is the kind of fun fact info I live for. I’ve just been happily enjoying the non-dairy Swiss Miss packets and bars of Lindt with oat milk unaware of the history. Now those treats will feel more special. I’m in the beginner stages of understanding chocolate with baking, still trying to get my powder to bloom properly when adding hot water to cake batter. What are your thoughts on Amaury Guichon?
Jack- Thanks for sharing this. I love this particular sentence: "Eating feels complicated." This very much sums up everything.