Peru Day 2:
The road was long and bouncy. 3.5-4 hours one way. 4 wheel drive 80% of the time. While it was a beautiful drive, meandering along the Huallaga River, it was long. Very long. And at times, somewhat sketchy. It took an hour or more for the sky to show signs of its lighter shades. But as the sun pulled his way up over the horizon, the ceiling of the earth became adorned in pastel brush strokes. The contrast of shadowed mountain and its ridge to the enlightening contrary above was postcard material.
The jungle of Peru is gorgeous. The mountains green and lush. More remote and untouched in comparison to other areas i've been. A cloud forest, the whispy pulled cotton clouds hover in and above the arboreal canopy and in the valleys that trickle into the main artery of the Huallaga. We pass small rice and banana farms, fed by the Huallaga, pushing its way thru the bedrock. At times traveling atop vistas that give us a gaze of the expansive valley. Other times, we are hugging the vertical bedrock.
Its apparent, as we drive thru roads that have been scraped from the mountain sides, that the vast majority of the ground is made up of river rock with some dirt inbetween and some good topsoil above. My imagination flirts with the time of when the river rose more than 400ft above its current height to deposit all of these rocks, smoothed by the tumbling and stroking of the rushing water. That must have been a site. Probably thousands or even millions of years ago. A river, perhaps a mile wide, owning the landscape.
400 ft straight below is the river and we're driving on a muddy road that is about 8ft wide. And this mud is MUD. Slick as soap and about a foot deep. Slick as soap. Slick as soap. One more time, slick as soap. Luckily we have 4 wheel drive and Jose, the driver and host from Romero Trading, is respectful of the gringos and is taking his time, driving at a snails pace at times. Making sure we dont accidentily slide then tumble down into the brown water below.
We come to Juanji. A small town where the cacao from the outlying regions are brought for weighing and warehousing until a truck can come from Chincha. It takes 3 days to get the cacao from here back to Chincha. At times, the road is not passable due to the rains. 3 days to get the cacao from the bush to a town where it can be consolidated with even more regions and finally brought to Lima or Callao for processing or shipping.
After passing on these roads, i am in awe of the transit this bean goes thru to get to our mouths. Farmers hauling cacao via burro, up to 10 kilometers, to the collection center. Then 3 days via truck over roads that would be illegal in the US, which leads to another collection center. Then 3 more days to the coast for export. Incredible.
We come to Rio Abiseo National Park. We drive and Jose tells us of of the Chachapoyas; a tribe of indians that were never conquered by the Incas. Fierce fighters and making their dwellings even more remote than the incas, they remained an independent culture of the Incan Empire, until the Spaniards came and conquered with disease, steel and deception.
We continue on our way to the farms.
We finally arrive to a very small town... actually, its not even a town. Its more like a crossroads with a few rows of buildings. No, its a town. Its name I forget. We are told that this is a relatively newly established town; perhaps 15 years old. The government was giving land away to be settled and cultivated. These cultivators came to grow. First coca. Now, they grow cacao.
From here, we will visit 4 farms.
The first farm we visit, in transition to becoming certified organic, is about 2.5 hectares and is a mix of about 3 varieties of cacao; the dominant being CCN-51. The trees were planted 5 years ago and the trees were impressive. Intermixed with citrus, banana, plantain and legumes, the trees appear very happy and well attended. I eat a couple freshly plucked oranges which revitalize my weary early morning clogged mind.
After about an hour of walking the farm, we move onto the next, which has a similar mix of cacao varieties and other tree crops. This farm has plantings of a cacao variety by the name of EC-95. A clone of mixed genetics, this particular farm has clones that visually indicate strong Criollo genetics; bottle neck top, elongated narrower body, long curving nipple. We pause and drink fresh coconut water, direct from the fruit. I drink 3. I could have drank 10.
We move onto the next two farms, which is located in a small village by the name of Alto Sol; accessible by crossing a river via motorized canoe.
The river is a pretty classic lazy river. While large, its constant flow, without rapids, eases the sensory of sight. I sit on the bank for a quick moment and catch sight of an object moving in paradox to the flow. Its coming towards the shore. Upon closer and more studied look, its a dog. This dog is swimming across the river! I don't even know if I'd attempt to swim across this river and here is this, what I would discover at its emergence from the water, a stringy bone showing dog making its way one doggy paddle at a time. Everyone soon came to the river bank and was cheering this swimmer on. So, the dog walked out like it was no big deal. Shook off the water and mosied on his merry way. Obviously he'd done it before and has his entry points that lead him to his exit points downstream. Probably visiting a girlfriend; I've enacted crazier feats for the opposite sex.
We board the large canoe and push off. We cross the 75 meter wide river and hop out on the other side. We pile into the beds of the pickup trucks and proceed.
We zoom down the rock strewn dirt road, through groves of cacao, plantain, banana, citrus... the standards. Up over hills, down into small valleys and over small streams. We continuously have to duck our heads to not get whacked by the low hanging branches. Well, I failed to lower my head for one branch. I saw it coming and it didn't look big. There appeared to be only a few dangling leaves, so I figured it would just brush by. Wrong. I lowered my head, yet the back of my neck was somewhat exposed and, WHACK! I fell to the bed of the pickup. It felt like there was a coconut hiding behind those few leaves. Whatever it was, it was a solid connection that put me down. Enough to draw blood. For the rest of the ride, I stayed squatted, far from the reach of anything.
When the trucks stopped, we piled out and everyone was shocked at the puncture wound that made its mark on my neck. The blood continued, as did the headache. And because of the sweat, the blood was smearing all over my neck and shirt collar.
The farm is 3 Hectares and once again is planted predominantly with CCN-51. The trees are 3 years old and if I wasn't told this, would have guessed 8 years old. They are about 12 feet high and full of red ripe pods. Very, very impressive how this strain of cacao can produce so much, so quickly.
The second farm was across the street and again, CCN-51 the variety of choice. This farm was about 5 hectars and was planted half in cacao (and its supporting trees) and half in brown cotton. The farm was very well maintained by the owner. I was shocked to learn that he tended the farm only by himself. No other help. 5 hectars is equivalent to about 12 acres. The farmer, about 65 years of age.
After walking the farm for an hour, we head back the way we came and continue on the 4 hour trek back to the hotel. The drive, slow and bouncy. As the night introduced itself, the driving became even slower and more sketchy. Navigating the slick inclines with oncoming trucks on an 8 ft wide road with a river 400 ft below was best left to the local who understood what little driving system existed.
We finally get back. We have a quick dinner and retreat to our rooms, shower and close the eyes around midnight. Mosquito bites starting to make themselves known. Ant bites on the ankles, already known.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Peru Day 1
Peru Day 1:
My flight to Lima left medford at 7am, which meant I had to awake at 5am. Pulling a freddy, I didn't start packing until close to midnight and also wanted to tidy up the home before leaving for a month, which means I didn't crawl into bed until about 2 - 2.30am. I close my eyes and within a moment my alarm goes off. Freddy tired. I was prepared though. I loaded up the coco-motion the night prior, so i only had to float to the kitchen and hit the golden button and it would be ready upon exiting the shower.
I fly to LA for a 4 hour layover. Yipee! I start reading "Into Thin Air". A true story about an expedition to the top of Mt. Everest gone bad; real bad. I now have no urge to climb that mountain and know that whatever situation I'm in, I have no reason to complain. I am grateful to be alive and healthy. I give thanks for every breath i take, my family, my friends and all of you that are around me everyday.
I finally board the flight to lima and off we go. We quickly turn south and start following the coast towards Baja. Below me, mosaics of tiled roofs, the roads the grout that shape the patterns. Spirals of cul-de-sacs perched on hill tops, oozing out in every direction and cascading down to the ocean. SoCal Suburbia. Oceanside, San Diego. The land clothed in red roof tops and homogenized winding roads.
A little further south and it becomes clear that we have crossed the border to Mexico. The landscape shows its natural skin of arid desert. The post modern dream of SoCal suburbian shaped shelter fades to the "truth be told, there aint no water here". Its brown, dry and chapped. I am reminded as we continue to migrate south, that northern Mexico (and the SW of the USA) is a giant desert; for hundreds and hundreds of miles. A scattering of habitations lends the guess that there must be water down there, somewhere. But from 30,000ft it looks stunningly desolate and stingingly beautiful.
I slip into thinking about population increase, fresh water decrease. The Colorado River. Hoover Damn. Lake Powell. Las Vegas, the SoCal Surburbia I just crossed and our selfish shortsighted Wonderland need for this precious, yet so basic, element. Water. We'll die without it. Yet we flush our excrements with it. So telling. We live in the western desert, yet grow kentucky bluegrass in our front lawn billboard of aesthetics. Water. In Venezuela, its more expensive than gasoline.
I arrive into Lima at about 12.30am and get to the hotel an hour later. By the time I get to my room and ready for bed, its about 2.15am. My alarm is set for 6am to depart for Romero Trading's factory 2.5 hours south of lima... in the coastal desert. I'm talking desert! Sand dunes like the sahara. I had no idea this region of Peru's coast was like this.
I meet the rest of the group downstairs and we pile into a small bus. There are 7 of us in all. Myself, John Long (VP of CSR at Hershey), Brendan Kissane (commodity buyer at Hershey), Ray Majors (new bean guy for Scarffenberger), Ferd (bean broker from Mitsubishi), Jose (our host from Romero Trading) and Octavio (bean procurement for Mitsubishi in Peru and bull fighter).
We arrive at the factory around 9am and the tour commences. I've come to appreciate the consistency of cacao processing facilities. Beans come in, get cleaned, roasted, winnowed and ground into liquor. From there it either gets packed as liquor or pressed into butter and powder.
Machinery varies from plant to plant. But the process doesn't change. Kinda like riding a bike. The brand of the bike may be different, but the mechanics of the action are the same.
Romero's factory was impressive. Small, efficient and clean. I liked the operation. The powder room, where they pulverize the cakes and bag the powder, was the cleanest powder room I've seen in Latin American factories. I inquired about the cleanliness and Jose assured me that it is a true reflection of how they operate; not just a quick clean for the visitors.
After the tour we proceed to the office and conduct a tasting. Out come 6 vials of liquor; each made from cacao from different a region of peru. Except one, which was a blend of 2 of the vials.
We taste.
I personally like what Peru has to offer in regards to flavor. Is it the best I've had, no. But I feel it is underrated and within the next 5 years will play a significant role in South American cacao. The genetics that exist in Peru are extremely varied and hold many, many secrets for the patient explorer.
More growers are converting their coca farms to cacao. While they don't make as much money, its a legal crop and the fear of working with drug dealers vanishes. Violence in their communities diminishes and a sense of communal pride and commradory permeates the famers. Since the plantings are new, the farmers can start from scratch with their strains and farming practices. Many growing organically and being certified
Ayacucho, Tingo Maria, Juanji, Qualubamba and Satipo. The cacao that made these samples were of mixed genetics. Yet, a few of them contained predominantly the variety of CCN-51. A variety that most of the "fine flavor" chocolate companies look down upon, as it tends to have a bitter finish that lingers like the burn of a jalapeno seed. Sharp and relentless. (I'll go into this variety later).
The Ayacucho had this very interesting flavor architecture that reminded my of gingerbread, oatmeal cookies, or even a bland chai tea. It had these incredible nuances of aromatic spices that kept unraveling. The finish was very smooth and without protest. And remember we're samplng liquor; no sugar added.
Tingo Maria, to which we are familiar with as its the base of our Milagros chocolate, is very pleasant and one that I will always enjoy. Soft coconut, subtle fruit, round and gentle in flavor composition. It reminds me of female hips on the pallete. Something that offers a sense of comfort.
Juanji was like a blend of Ayacucho and Tingo Maria. Very nice mellow presentation with the gentle spice and gentle fruit. Perhaps too getle though.
The next three, Satipo, Qualubamba and a blend of the two were made from two seperate farms with the vastly dominant strain being the CCN-51. The flavor release on my pallete was flat; except for the finish. The flavor had no distinction, no character, no personality to creed a trait of desire. It sat on my pallete like unsalted and unbuttered boxed mashed potatoes. The ending, though, was like someone swabbed battery acid on the rear of my tongue. Ok, it wasnt that bad. But, it was digging in.
After the tasting, we head back, 2.5 hours, to Lima. We go to the hotel, grab our bags and head to the airport. Off to Tarapoto.
We arrive to Tarapoto around 10pm, get to the hotel around 11.30pm, get to bed around 12.30am and awake at 4.30am, in the early morning darkness, to head to the city of Juanji in the region of Huicungo to visit some farms; 4 to be exact...
My flight to Lima left medford at 7am, which meant I had to awake at 5am. Pulling a freddy, I didn't start packing until close to midnight and also wanted to tidy up the home before leaving for a month, which means I didn't crawl into bed until about 2 - 2.30am. I close my eyes and within a moment my alarm goes off. Freddy tired. I was prepared though. I loaded up the coco-motion the night prior, so i only had to float to the kitchen and hit the golden button and it would be ready upon exiting the shower.
I fly to LA for a 4 hour layover. Yipee! I start reading "Into Thin Air". A true story about an expedition to the top of Mt. Everest gone bad; real bad. I now have no urge to climb that mountain and know that whatever situation I'm in, I have no reason to complain. I am grateful to be alive and healthy. I give thanks for every breath i take, my family, my friends and all of you that are around me everyday.
I finally board the flight to lima and off we go. We quickly turn south and start following the coast towards Baja. Below me, mosaics of tiled roofs, the roads the grout that shape the patterns. Spirals of cul-de-sacs perched on hill tops, oozing out in every direction and cascading down to the ocean. SoCal Suburbia. Oceanside, San Diego. The land clothed in red roof tops and homogenized winding roads.
A little further south and it becomes clear that we have crossed the border to Mexico. The landscape shows its natural skin of arid desert. The post modern dream of SoCal suburbian shaped shelter fades to the "truth be told, there aint no water here". Its brown, dry and chapped. I am reminded as we continue to migrate south, that northern Mexico (and the SW of the USA) is a giant desert; for hundreds and hundreds of miles. A scattering of habitations lends the guess that there must be water down there, somewhere. But from 30,000ft it looks stunningly desolate and stingingly beautiful.
I slip into thinking about population increase, fresh water decrease. The Colorado River. Hoover Damn. Lake Powell. Las Vegas, the SoCal Surburbia I just crossed and our selfish shortsighted Wonderland need for this precious, yet so basic, element. Water. We'll die without it. Yet we flush our excrements with it. So telling. We live in the western desert, yet grow kentucky bluegrass in our front lawn billboard of aesthetics. Water. In Venezuela, its more expensive than gasoline.
I arrive into Lima at about 12.30am and get to the hotel an hour later. By the time I get to my room and ready for bed, its about 2.15am. My alarm is set for 6am to depart for Romero Trading's factory 2.5 hours south of lima... in the coastal desert. I'm talking desert! Sand dunes like the sahara. I had no idea this region of Peru's coast was like this.
I meet the rest of the group downstairs and we pile into a small bus. There are 7 of us in all. Myself, John Long (VP of CSR at Hershey), Brendan Kissane (commodity buyer at Hershey), Ray Majors (new bean guy for Scarffenberger), Ferd (bean broker from Mitsubishi), Jose (our host from Romero Trading) and Octavio (bean procurement for Mitsubishi in Peru and bull fighter).
We arrive at the factory around 9am and the tour commences. I've come to appreciate the consistency of cacao processing facilities. Beans come in, get cleaned, roasted, winnowed and ground into liquor. From there it either gets packed as liquor or pressed into butter and powder.
Machinery varies from plant to plant. But the process doesn't change. Kinda like riding a bike. The brand of the bike may be different, but the mechanics of the action are the same.
Romero's factory was impressive. Small, efficient and clean. I liked the operation. The powder room, where they pulverize the cakes and bag the powder, was the cleanest powder room I've seen in Latin American factories. I inquired about the cleanliness and Jose assured me that it is a true reflection of how they operate; not just a quick clean for the visitors.
After the tour we proceed to the office and conduct a tasting. Out come 6 vials of liquor; each made from cacao from different a region of peru. Except one, which was a blend of 2 of the vials.
We taste.
I personally like what Peru has to offer in regards to flavor. Is it the best I've had, no. But I feel it is underrated and within the next 5 years will play a significant role in South American cacao. The genetics that exist in Peru are extremely varied and hold many, many secrets for the patient explorer.
More growers are converting their coca farms to cacao. While they don't make as much money, its a legal crop and the fear of working with drug dealers vanishes. Violence in their communities diminishes and a sense of communal pride and commradory permeates the famers. Since the plantings are new, the farmers can start from scratch with their strains and farming practices. Many growing organically and being certified
Ayacucho, Tingo Maria, Juanji, Qualubamba and Satipo. The cacao that made these samples were of mixed genetics. Yet, a few of them contained predominantly the variety of CCN-51. A variety that most of the "fine flavor" chocolate companies look down upon, as it tends to have a bitter finish that lingers like the burn of a jalapeno seed. Sharp and relentless. (I'll go into this variety later).
The Ayacucho had this very interesting flavor architecture that reminded my of gingerbread, oatmeal cookies, or even a bland chai tea. It had these incredible nuances of aromatic spices that kept unraveling. The finish was very smooth and without protest. And remember we're samplng liquor; no sugar added.
Tingo Maria, to which we are familiar with as its the base of our Milagros chocolate, is very pleasant and one that I will always enjoy. Soft coconut, subtle fruit, round and gentle in flavor composition. It reminds me of female hips on the pallete. Something that offers a sense of comfort.
Juanji was like a blend of Ayacucho and Tingo Maria. Very nice mellow presentation with the gentle spice and gentle fruit. Perhaps too getle though.
The next three, Satipo, Qualubamba and a blend of the two were made from two seperate farms with the vastly dominant strain being the CCN-51. The flavor release on my pallete was flat; except for the finish. The flavor had no distinction, no character, no personality to creed a trait of desire. It sat on my pallete like unsalted and unbuttered boxed mashed potatoes. The ending, though, was like someone swabbed battery acid on the rear of my tongue. Ok, it wasnt that bad. But, it was digging in.
After the tasting, we head back, 2.5 hours, to Lima. We go to the hotel, grab our bags and head to the airport. Off to Tarapoto.
We arrive to Tarapoto around 10pm, get to the hotel around 11.30pm, get to bed around 12.30am and awake at 4.30am, in the early morning darkness, to head to the city of Juanji in the region of Huicungo to visit some farms; 4 to be exact...
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