Lifting the lid on chocolate

How long since you entered a carefree pleasure zone by savouring the smooth, creamy consistency of chocolate? Is the very word making you reach for the nearest bar? And I'm not talking liquor. Statistics suggest that 50% of women prefer chocolate to sex. And the pleasurable effect of the potent bean is now backed by scientific research: besides that caffeine jolt, chocolate also contains PEA, or phenylethylamaine. This is the same molecule that courses through the veins of lovers: entirely appropriate for a product processed on a vibrating bed.

 

Should dinner table conversation become desultory, galvanise guests by mentioning the choc word. You'll have instant gratification. Eyes will gleam, prejudices will out and you'll enter a war zone with partisans punting the merits of bitter versus sweet, liqueur fillings versus truffles, and complaining that chocolate can be so smooth that it skids in the mouth rather than oozing over the palate.

The more daring will dwell on the pleasures of chocolate body paint (eaten out of the container, so they claim). Others will confess to indulging in chocolates behind closed doors. Whatever the personal preference, the general concession is that while less is more, more is even better.

Imagine slipping a chocolate between your lips. Flash back to that advertisement of a blonde simulating fellatio with chocolate. Picture using your tongue to prise pistachio nuts from their rich bedding. Or visualise slicing an elephant from the trunk downwards.

Small wonder that chocolate is regarded as orgasmic. It's even seen as an art form. Made from human breast milk, a mammoth slab was used recently as a crowd-teaser at an art exhibition in Cape Town.

To the Aztecs, the cacao bean was of divine origin and was also used as currency - a clear case of serving both God and Mammon. The beans were sun-dried, roasted and husked, the kernels then ground with vanilla, herbs and spices. The resulting paste was made into small cakes and dried in the shade. When needed, the cakes were crumbled and whisked with water to make a foamy drink known as cacau-atl.

In 1519 a follower of conquistador Cortez described a banquet given by the Aztec ruler Montezuma II, at which about 50 dishes made of cocoa were served. Montezuma was probably history's first chocoholic. He reportedly drank 50 goblets of the frothing liquid each day, the better to serve his harem of 600 women. (In the 18th century Casanova, too, praised chocolate's efficacy).

Perhaps the most significant of the spoils Cortez brought back from South America, chocolate was jealously guarded for 100 years by the Spanish, who made the beans into a cold drink, often sweetened with sugar cane which was then being introduced into Europe. Gradually the delicacy spread throughout the Old World and in 1657 the first advertised sale of chocolate took place at a "chocolate house" in England.

In the 1700s French gastronome and politician Jean Brillat-Savarin was lyrical in praise of its stimulatory powers: "Chocolate is one of the most effective restoratives. All those who have to work when they might be sleeping, men of wit who feel temporarily deprived of their intellectual powers, those who find the weather oppressive, time dragging . . . let all such men imbibe a half-litre of chocolat ambré." (Sadly, this beverage, which contained a substance with a scent similar to musk, no longer exists).

While the rest of the Continent succumbed to the new treat, Switzerland held out against it: the watchful city fathers of Zürich banned chocolate from public feasts lest its decadence undermine Swiss morals. It is ironic that chocolate as we know it today originated in a fledgling Zürich factory.

Though early experiments with chocolate had succeeded in moving from a brew to a solid form, the dry and crumbly paste-like substance was difficult to force into moulds, and had to be chewed and consumed quickly before it melted. In 1828 the Dutch firm of Van Houten revolutionised the burgeoning chocolate industry with a patent for removing a large proportion of the fat from the beans - and cocoa butter made its appearance. This led to cocoa and drinking chocolate, but the texture of solid chocolate remained a problem.

Rodolphe Lindt, who had completed his apprenticeship as a confectioner in Lausanne, and his pharmacist brother August - who suggested a new rolling refinement process and additional cocoa butter to smooth the roughness of the paste - took development further, producing chocolate that would melt in the mouth.

The story goes that Rodolphe, a keen huntsman, forgot to switch off his revolutionary machine when he left to spend a long weekend in search of game. On his return, he found the lumpy, rather bitter mass had refined and aerated into a velvet-smooth, luscious consistency with a matt sheen and delicious aroma. And it poured easily into moulds. He immediately christened his confection chocolat fondant (melting chocolate).

Initially he kept his invention to himself, producing only limited quantities for the delectation of the upper echelons of Swiss society and eager consumers at Zürich's finishing schools.

However, rival companies wore down his resistance and he eventually sold his invention to Choclat Sprüngli AG, which already held a reputation as quality confectioners. The firm of chocolate producers Lindt & Sprüngli was launched in 1879 and with it, "the first melting chocolate in the world".

THE TASTING MARATHON

Wine's informal tasting was held in the picturesque setting of Rhodes' Cottage, Boschendal. Visualise a vast dining-room table, covered with delectable chocolates surrounding a pièce de résistance: the ultimate orgiastic Double Diablo chocolate cake from Boschendal restaurant, generously spiked with Vin d'Or (recipe available from the restaurant on request). On the sideboard, an array of wine bottles.

Never in the history of Wine's food tastings had we attracted as many volunteers. We eliminated chocoholics, bending the rules for food writer Lannice Snyman and Buitenverwachting GM Lars Maack, who promised restraint. Moderation was provided by Stephen Flesch, past chairman of the Wine Tasters' Guild, and Cape Wine Master Sue van Wyk, just back from Belgium and its attendant chocolate treats.

The panel decorously sliced up each chocolate, then followed the six tasting rules of assessing the sheen, snapping for a clean break, noting the fragrance, tonguing the texture, experiencing the flavour and allowing time for the aftertaste. We were guided by Belgian Luc Jansen, from a small village outside Antwerp, where he and his wife Lydie enjoy a specialised chocolate relationship: Luc supplies machinery for chocolate-making, while Lydie has an atelier, selling hand‑crafted chocolates. They are in South Africa as consultants to the Franschhoek Food Factory (FFF), a pioneering partnership between the Franschhoek Belgian Development Trust and the Gordon family, owners/operators of Haute Cabrière Restaurant.

Three young men from the valley were sent to Belgium last year by the Trust, and are now, with the help of the Jansens and Matthew Gordon, launching a varied range of hand-made chocolates.

Like small chocolate producers in Belgium - and according to Luc, each village has its own chocolatier - FFF is leaving the choice and treatment of the beans to specialist companies. All couverture or covering chocolate used in Franschhoek is "real" chocolate imported from Belgium, as are most fillings.

The panel verdict on the FFF chocolates: great promise; velvety texture, subtle rather than sweet flavour, with the advantage of' freshness. "Full frontal coffee flavour," commented Lannice. The chocolates - ranging from pralines to "coffee beans" and "orange slices" with a citrus centre hinting at Van der Hum liqueur - had been made that morning, giving them an advantage over the other imported varieties we sampled. Our one criticism was that in terms of flavour, the fillings might prove too underplayed for the local market, particularly in terms of the liquor content.

Richness, creamy texture and sheen were highlights of the imported brands, and all panellists commented on the synergy between chocolate and filling. "Well-balanced harmony" was Stephen's assessment of the Godiva assortment, though Luc, who says he eats them "all the time" at home, remarked on a lack of freshness. Geldhof was found to have a fine thin crust, light centres and good balance. "Oozed nicely," said Lannice happily. Springer seduced her with truffles: "Finely balanced outer crust and creamy inner sanctum."

As regards the slabs, Côte d'Or and Lindt Lindor gave silky satisfaction, with Sarotti scoring particularly well in the richness stakes. To Lannice, the Côte d'Or was slower to melt and ooze ("if you're desperate, warm it first"). To Sue, the appeal lay in their undiluted cocoa flavour. She likened dark Côte d'Or to "a good strong brew of cocoa"; and while the rest of the panel found the Droste coffee cream pastilles a little cloying, to Sue they were like a sweet, shiny Brazilian roast coffee: dark, with a layer of cream - an authentic, not artificial flavour."

The last word belongs to Lannice: "A chocolate disappointment is among the worst of experiences. You've built yourself up to the moment of allowing yourself a square (or slab). That moment is sacred and the let-down is TOTAL.

WHAT GOES INTO CHOCOLATE?
Disregard that charming fantasy about the glasses of milk that go into chocolate. "Pure" chocolate is the result of processing cacao beans (cocoa mass, cocoa butter, cocoa powder) to which sugar (sucrose), dairy products (unskimmed or skimmed milk powder, butter) and lecithin have been added. While the EU is trying to relax regulations in terms of chocolate content, Belgium is holding out for "pure" chocolate, which obviously makes for an expensive end-product. Cheaper chocolate is generally "extended" with CBRs (cocoa butter replacements), which are usually some form of vegetable oil.

Plain or fondant chocolate is chocolate in its purest form. It is composed of cocoa mass, cocoa butter, sugar and lecithin. Milk chocolate is plain or fondant chocolate plus milk powder. The only product of the cacao bean contained in white chocolate is cocoa butter. The flavour derives from the more or less caramelised sugar and milk powder.

WHICH WINE?
Death by chocolate is a common form of wine extermination. While both offer a taste sensation that titillates the palate and soothes the psyche, theirs is not a natural marriage. Given today's trend of replacing a time-consuming dessert with delectable chocolates, do you dispense with the wine in your glass in favour of coffee?

Not in the opinion of Wine's stalwart panellists, who prepared their palates for the marathon tasting with bubbly ("fantastic with Godiva truffles", enthused Lars). Their findings? If you're planning to pair wine and chocolate, go dark. Eschew milk varieties, for the richer milk flavour clashes with wine.

Unlike most wine and food matches, an echoing flavour in the wine does not necessarily make for a happy union. Full-bodied red wines carrying a hint of chocolate on the palate - such as Shiraz, Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon - are ideal with casseroles or stews enriched with a little dark chocolate, but generally anathema with slabs. However, Pinotage fan Sue punted a young Pinotage with nutty chocolate and a mature vintage with dark, also finding that Shiraz complemented the Côte d'Or. Stephen preferred it with the Lindt Lindor, but was unconvinced of the match.

The problem with chocolate is not only sweetness, but tastebud-coating texture. Any accompanying wine must not only be as sweet but also needs to be full-bodied and high in alcohol. Hence the harmony of heavy-bodied, raisiny port and the Double Diablo dessert, and Ratafia's ability (to quote Lannice) "to do glorious things to top-of-the-range chocolates, especially with nuts and less dominant citrus fillings." Yet Vin de Constance shied from a relationship with chocolate: ambrosia ill at ease with decadence.

There are those who swear by the ultimate in French sophistication: chocolate truffles with an aged Burgundy. To avoid conflict, the type of truffle is crucial: it has to be dark, and not over-sweet. Lars had raided his cellar for a bottle of 1985 Bouchard Père & Fils Corton, but on trying the truffle match, preferred the fruity sweetness of a '96 Muscat de Beaumes-de-Venise - as did the rest of the panel. This fragrant, natural sweet wine from the Southern Rhône proved to have an affinity with chocolate. It is a wine suggested by wine writers from Hugh Johnson to Joanna Simon as being a possible partner for chocolate flavours - if you're determined on the pairing.

LOCAL CHOCOLATES
The three best-selling branded chocolate slabs in South Africa are all from Cadbury's, with Dairy Milk out ahead, followed by Whole Nut and Top Deck. This is obviously testimony to the local sweet palate. While the panel rated the chocolate value for money - "you can't expect a Mercedes or BMW," commented Luc - they noticed a lack of the cocoa flavour, richness and sheen that characterised the imported chocolate. Lannice summed up succinctly: "Not big on shine. Not big on smooth."

Beacon holds pole sales position in South Africa in terms of chocolate assortments. As commercial chocolates, the panel found the Beacon Milky Treats and the St Chocolat wrapped milk chocolates good value, but felt that for sophisticated palates, the chocolate coating was too sweet and the creamy fillings too synthetic, overpowering rather than complementing the chocolate flavour. "Helped by the nut centres," said Stephen.