WE CALL these jungle M&Ms, said my guide Cuthbert. “Try one.” They looked more like fat white grubs clustered inside the cacao pod.
The botanic term “mucilage” didn’t make them sound more appealing. But my love of chocolate meant little would deter me from trying it fresh from the plant.
Sweet and fruity, the soft white outer layer melted away until just the cacao bean was left, although this one wouldn’t be starting the fermentation, drying and roasting process along with the rest of the crop from the plantation in St Lucia’s lush Soufrière hills.
It’s a long way from Cadbury’s Buttons. But while the food of the gods is more commonly associated with the Aztecs and Mayans, it has been grown on this Caribbean island for over 450 years.
The French introduced the cacao trees that flourish in the island’s rich volcanic, rain forest-shaded soil. As the French wrangled with the British for power, with St Lucia changing hands 14 times in 150 years, the crop survived the political turmoil.
A Chocolate Heritage Trail highlights 20 indulgent spots across the island, with extra events and activities taking place during August’s Chocolate Heritage Month.
Meanwhile, the three-hour tour at Boucan by Hotel Chocolat – the best-known name among St Lucia’s chocolate producers – is the perfect crash course in all things cacao.
Wandering in the shade of laden fruit trees, with prickly soursop and breadfruit growing alongside guava and orange, we traced the bean’s journey, from Cuthbert’s carefully maintained seed bank to the ripe yellow or orange pods.
Among recipes for Cuthbert’s home-made natural insect repellent (garlic, cayenne pepper and liquid soap), I discovered you should only cut or twist pods from the trees, rather than pull, to ensure the next crop isn’t damaged.
I also learnt how serious the chocolate-making business is. Despite modern scientific methods dictating the estate’s choice of tree – a cloned trinitario hybrid for intense flavour and hardiness – the process doesn’t seem to have changed much in centuries, even if the traditional cocoa-rina dance to polish the beans is no longer intrinsic to the process.
Packed into boxes, the beans are covered with banana leaves and left to ferment for seven days, throwing off almost as much heat as the Caribbean sun.
Freshly cured, they’re then sun-dried, roasted and ground before machines pound the nibs into the smooth paste needed to make a bar.
Bashing my own nibs somewhat less efficiently in a mortar, I had to content myself with the thought that my gritty creation had tradition on its side.
It wasn’t until the mid-19th century that Joseph Fry created the first smooth, solid bar that we’d recognise today.
It was entirely by accident, if you believe Cuthbert. After unintentionally leaving the machine on overnight, Fry was ready to discard the smoother paste until he realised it could be moulded more easily. Although not before he’d cursed himself as a “ ganache” or idiot.
Apocryphal? Probably. But since Cuthbert also agrees with my firmly held belief that white chocolate can’t really be considered chocolate as it contains no cacao nibs, he obviously knows his stuff.
Tempting though it was to stay and work my way through the hotel’s chocolate-themed menu, I had the rest of St Lucia’s chocolate heritage to explore.
Soufrière’s hills are the heart of St Lucia’s chocolate country. Best known for the sulphur springs, mineral-rich mud and thermal pools dubbed the “drive-in volcano”, they’re also home to the Fond Doux Holiday Plantation.
Here hummingbirds flit around the secluded French colonial-style cottages, where you can stay on the working estate that has grown cacao since the 18th century.
The air is tantalisingly scented with chocolate as you wander past flowering banana plants and the bright red and yellow heliconia flowers known as crab’s claws.
All paradises have their temptations, this one the rum and amaretto-filled chocolate fondue drink, so good that all cacao beans should aspire to end up in one.
I was easily convinced to cover myself in chocolate, on the coast below the hills. Open to the air on one side, nothing disturbs the tranquillity in the rooms at the Jade Mountain Resort – except the methodical sound of my spa therapist Theodora plastering me in chocolate paste.
Wrapped in hot towels, then massaged head to toe, I was almost too relaxed to nibble the truffles accompanying the treatment.
Following the Chocolate Heritage Trail is the ideal way to discover the island, tracing switchback roads from the forested slopes down towards the Caribbean and pastel-hued fishing villages such as Anse La Raye.
Set in a secluded cove nearby, the Ti Kaye Resort & Spa added its own twist to the indulgence. In the cellar, home to 640 wines, I discovered a perfect partner for my chocolate, courtesy of wine steward Dwight.
After all the gluttony, I needed refreshing. So, after a swim at the resort of St James Club Morgan Bay, I went for tea in the capital, Castries – cocoa tea, of course.
Sitting between the piles of juicy mangoes, waxy apples and knobbly breadfruit, as well as fresh fish filleted by machete, at Castries Market, are the spice stalls, the place to find ingredients for this traditional St Lucian drink.
Tucked between the mace and powdered spices, I found solid chocolate sticks. Grated into boiling water with nutmeg, cinnamon, star anise and vanilla, a corn starch, sugar and milk, they’re made into a thick, spiced cocoa.
My kind of way to start the day. – The Independent
l To find out more, contact stlucia.org