A Path Toward Food and Economic Sovereignty through Cacao in the Philippines
Hidden in a remote corner of Negros Island, one of the 7100 islands of The Philippines Archipelago, we found a cacao tree nursery and plantation working toward food and economic sovereignty for local farmers by applying agroforestry and agroecological practices, and promoting farmer education to rebuild the soil health of the island one plot at the time.
It was mid-April and the sugarcane harvest season around Negros Island was nearing the end. Fields and fields displayed as case studies of the different stages of sugarcane production: ready to harvest, recently harvested, already burnt, and prepared for new starter plants. The land looked tired and hopeless. The large swaths of land covered in sugar cane didn’t alert us of the cacao oasis we were about to visit. By 10 am the relentless sun followed us to the farm as we entered the black canopy covering the cacao seedling where Chris Fadriga, a Filipino Agronomist, told us the story of the project. “I began collecting cacao tree cuttings from rural people’s backyards planted decades ago,” he said leading us through the maze of baby trees. “Rural women use the cacao pod to make a drink for lactating mothers, so keeping a tree in their backyards is part of their cultural identity.”
The Spaniards took cacao from the Americas to The Philippines in the mid 17th century during the exchange of goods from their different colonies through the Acapulco-Manila Galeon trade, linking The Philippines and Mexico across the Pacific. Cacao became part of the food culture of the islands, and for centuries these heirloom cacao varietals have been produced in Negros, mostly for personal consumption.
The project, Chris told us, aims to help farmers find another source of income using heirloom cacao varietals grown in a sustainable production system, protecting the trees and promoting biodiversity, as the cacao and specialty chocolate industry grows in The Philippines.
Heirloom cacao plants suffer under direct sun, and as temperatures continue to rise the need to protect cacao trees from extreme heat becomes part of the strategy of sustainable production. Cacao trees produce more and better fruit when grown under the shade of tall trees, “We learned after a year of dying plants that they needed a different ecosystem than the hybrids grown in industrialized monocrops,” Chris said while wiping the sweat from his forehead, “hybrids are more resistant, but the flavor is not as complex and rich as the heirloom varietals.” The system also protects them from harsh winds and damaging rain, an important factor counting that The Philippines Archipelago is located in the typhoon belt of the Pacific.
Growing cacao trees following an agroforestry model reduces erosion and promotes soil regeneration in a place where the land has suffered greatly from centuries of monocrop sugarcane production. Among the trees planted on the plot of land, we found papaya, mango, and other tropical trees surrounded by vanilla orchid vines that can grow up to 30 feet high, providing a cooling shade for us as well as for the cacao trees, and reducing evaporation conserving water resources.
A week before traveling to the Philippines, we had a chocolate tasting and appreciation class with professor Marconi. He had brought chocolates made with different types of cacao, from pure Nacional — an ancient varietal indigenous of the area between Ecuador and Colombia, together with other heirlooms, plus modern hybrids used in mass-production of chocolate. The intense tropical flavors of Nacional, and even of the heirlooms like Trinitario assaulted our senses. It was a different beast altogether.
The modern hybrids needed help to compete in flavor, utilizing more sugar to balance the bitterness, in some adding milk powder and flavorings like vanillin. Heirloom and ancient chocolate varietals are more expensive than industrial chocolates, for no other reason than the agricultural practices required to grow and protect the trees and the land. Farmers and the environment pay a large percentage of the real cost behind the production of industrial chocolates. Conversely, chocolate made with sustainably grown and fairly paid cacao reflects the real cost of production; it turns consumers into active contributors in the process of preserving the ecosystems and biodiversity while respecting the hard work of farmers.
Chris walked under one of the stumpy trees and pointed to the base, “You can see here the grafting between a hybrid and an heirloom,” he said as he showed us two different colored cacao pods, one above the other. “Similar to grapevines for wines that use strong American rootstock to help the European vines thrive after the phylloxera epidemic, we use stronger hybrid rootstocks and graft them with heirlooms, whose product we prefer,” he crawled out and walked toward the small shack to make hot chocolate.
His comparison to wine amplifies the subject of fairness. Cacao is a plant with labor and land needs, an intricate fermentation process, and great complexity of flavors like that of grapevines to make wine. Yet its value was diminished the second it became a colonial product from the Americas, and later from other colonies around the world, where it was cultivated and harvested by enslaved or indentured workers, and consumed mainly in Europe or in the rich households of Europeans in the colonies. Detached from the land and the people actually producing it, cacao became chocolate and the value was transferred to the European merchant and processors [e.g. Swiss chocolate], erasing thousands of years of cacao tradition in the Americas.
Conversely, wine is a European export established in the colonies together with the idea of superiority over other agricultural products. Its intricate value is attached to the European tradition of winemaking now protected through geographical denominations of origin. Consequently, when we see an artisanal bar of chocolate at $6 or $7 US dollars we cringe, but we never question spending that much, or more, on a glass of wine.
While Chris boiled the water and prepared the vessels for hot chocolate, his assistant explained the process of fermentation on a small scale using a plastic cooler, banana leaves, and a piece of black netting to build a fermentation bucket. Cacao pods contain a large, white gelatinous mass divided into lumps, each lump containing a seed. That seed is our chocolate before it grows up and becomes delicious. Fermentation of the entire filling breaks down the white blanket on each seed, giving acidity to the seeds and enhancing their flavor.
We could smell the chocolate brewing in the distance, and after so much talk about it, we were ready to taste it. Chris had used the traditional Filipino coin-shaped chocolate called Tablea, widely used to make hot chocolate. “You can add sugar if you’d like,” Chris said, suggesting to sample it alone to see how much sugar it might need. The floral and tropical flavors mirrored the landscape around us; much like wine, this chocolate felt like a translation of the terroir in a cup of slightly bitter chocolate. I skipped the sugar and indulged in the taste of pure chocolate. A palpable memory of Negros Island.
