I was so flattered by the Chocolate Disorder shout-out by Estelle Tracy in this recently published interview by Captain of Goods. Thanks Estelle, you’re awesome. Readers, be sure to check out Estelle’s blog, 37 Chocolates. It’s one of my favorites for candid reviews of chocolate bars, interviews with chocolate makers and more.
You may have noticed that I’ve updated the name of this site.
Why? Truthfully, I changed the name because I was tired of having a long wordpress domain name that nobody would ever remember. And the shorter version of my old domain name, intemper.com, was already taken.
Also, whether or not it’s true, I’ve heard that search engines favor blogs with domain names that explain what they’re about. So I wanted my new domain name to include the word chocolate.
But why Chocolate Disorder? Well, I thought the name reflected the somewhat obsessive nature of my preoccupation with chocolate. And it’s a bit tongue in cheek, not meant to be taken TOO seriously — just like the blog.
Also, as you may have guessed, I’m pretty sure I have one. A chocolate disorder, that is. And if you’ve read this far, you probably do too. 😛
You know when something happens that’s such a coincidence, you can’t help but stop to marvel at it? And then blog about it? (Or is that just me?)
Last week I won a copy of The Chocolate Tasting Kit at a chocolate industry panel at the Smithsonian. The panel moderator, cookbook author Monica Bhide, offered to give a free copy of the book to the first person who could correctly answer the question, “what does theobroma cacao mean in Greek?” After some (gentle) elbow prodding from my husband, I raised my hand.
In unrelated news (or so I thought), the next day I was emailing a thank you note to the very kind author of this inspiring blog about chocolate. It’s the kind of blog I would love to create someday (maybe when I actually know what I’m doing). I’d emailed her a question and she’d responded right away, checked out my blog, and even offered me some great tempering advice. So helpful.
And then I noticed her email signature: “Eagranie Yuh. Author, The Chocolate Tasting Kit.”
Those who work in the chocolate world (chocolate makers, chocolatiers, competition judges, bloggers, authors, educators and shop owners) all seem to know each other. If you follow one of them on Twitter, it’s likely that person is following dozens, maybe even hundreds of other industry participants. Many of them are friends. They meet up at industry events and award shows, or they speak on panels like the one at the Smithsonian. They eat each other’s chocolate, and sometimes they even buy shipping containers of cocoa beans together. I remember being so surprised to learn that one of my favorite craft chocolate makers has been using the exact same Dominican cocoa beans as another well known chocolate maker because they had gone in on a shipping container of beans together.
It’s understandable that the American craft chocolate industry is so close-knit. It’s tiny: there are only a few dozen American craft chocolate makers, at most. And the hurdles for these small business owners can seem insurmountable. Equipment and certifications are expensive, chocolate is a temperamental, unpredictable product, and American consumers are still somewhat uncomfortable spending $10 for a chocolate bar. Most chocolate makers have no illusions about becoming rich making chocolate. Usually they’re in the business because they love it.
With so many obstacles to success, chocolate makers NEED each other. They need each other’s advice, inspiration and support. And they need the industry to be successful, as a whole. Which means they need their competitors to be successful. For this reason, they are a welcoming, transparent, hyper-communicative group of business owners. They praise each other’s successes and promote each other’s events. They give advice freely, even to newbies like me.
Emailing a Canadian blogger only to later discover she’s the author of a book I’d just won at a D.C. chocolate panel is exactly the kind of coincidence I should learn to expect in such a close-knit community. And yet, like so many other experiences I’ve had as I begin my chocolate education, I can’t help but feel like it’s some kind of cosmic cattle prod directing me deeper and deeper into this crazy passion (obsession?) of mine.
For the record, theobroma cacao is Greek for “food of the gods.”
I’m embarking on a journey into the mysterious world of chocolate making. Through the professional chocolatier program at Ecole Chocolat, I’m learning to temper, mold, flavor and decorate chocolates in my home kitchen. Eventually I’ll learn to make my very own chocolate bars from scratch.
Hopefully this blog will serve as a resource for others embarking on similar journeys, providing a window into the strange, fascinating world of chocolate making and the close-knit industry that has grown up around it.
Full disclosure: I also hope this blog will help me meet others who share my passion for chocolate making (and chocolate eating). So please give me a shout, introduce yourself, and feel free to provide feedback on anything that could make the blog better.
I’m incredibly grateful to the wonderful folks at Undone Chocolate, one of D.C.’s only bean-to-bar chocolate makers. I’ve been lucky enough to volunteer there, and that hands-on production experience has been invaluable. Adam Kavalier (company founder) is a walking encyclopedia of chocolate making knowledge, and I can’t put a price on his generosity for letting me get my hands dirty (and my clothes, and my apron, and my shoes) in his chocolate kitchen.
For those without a local chocolate making factory at which to volunteer, I’ve found the instructions on John Nanci’s Chocolate Alchemy blog invaluable, and I’m sure I’ll refer back to them many, many times as I continue my chocolate education.
Happy nibbling,
Amber
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Chocolate Disorder 