Chapter Twenty-Six #2
When her question was met with a handful of whoops and cheers, she continued, “You are all in store for a fun and informational experience where you will see firsthand how we harvest the sacred cacao bean. Then we will return to the shop, and using the very same techniques as the Mayan artisans did centuries ago, we’ll craft some chocolate treats.
“But at the Belize Chocolate Factory, we believe in zero waste, so we utilize every part of the cacao bean. For instance, the husks are used to make our own brand of tea, and pressed cocoa butter is the main ingredient in our body products. In just a few moments, we’ll be arriving at the Peini Cacao Plantation in Punta Gorda, one of many farms in the region dedicated to preserving our traditional local practices.
Enjoy the scenery as we make our way. We should arrive in about fifteen minutes. ”
The bus didn’t have air-conditioning, so Leo stood up to reach over me and, using all his weight, yank down the stubborn window. “That’s better,” he said as the wind whipped through, making it feel at least a few degrees cooler. “Who knew we’d be riding in such style?”
Right as he said that, the bus hit a bump hard enough to send me airborne, landing squarely in Leo’s lap. He looked down at me, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Never mind. As far as I’m concerned, this just became a five-star ride.”
With a devilish smirk, I rolled off him and settled back into my seat, a quiet smile playing at my lips.
Leo leaned closer to be heard over the sound of the growling engine and the whistling wind.
“Jokes aside, I really hope you’re having a good time.
After what happened in New York, I wanted to remind you of us.
Of the fun, yes, but more than that, of the good.
The kind of good that makes the spats and rough patches worth it. ”
I looked into his warm face, so familiar, so steady. “I had started to forget . . . but it’s coming back to me.”
The bus rolled to a complete stop, and all twelve of us (sweaty and sticky from the ride) unloaded, grateful to be in the cool shade.
Malina led us down a steep trail. “These here are Criollo and Trinitario cacao trees,” she explained, “native to the region and grown without any chemicals. The pods take six months to ripen, and each one holds thirty to fifty precious seeds.”
She reached up and gently twisted a sun-bronzed pod from a tree, splitting it open with a practiced tap of a machete. The inside looked like a mess of wet, pale garlic cloves.
“Go on, taste it,” she encouraged, handing it to Leo.
He looked alarmed. “This looks like an alien egg.”
“You eat the slimy coating,” Malina instructed, “and then spit out the bean.”
His eyes widened. “Whoa,” he said. “It’s sour . . . like mango and lemon had a baby.”
I took one, expecting bitterness, but was surprised by the tart, floral burst. The texture was a little horrifying, but oddly addictive.
As we continued on, Malina explained each part of the fermentation process, demonstrating how the pods were dried in the sun, then roasted and ground by hand.
In a small open-air workshop, the scent was intoxicating—rich, earthy, and slightly smoky, thick with the aroma of freshly warmed cacao.
Malina lifted a handful of dried beans and let them fall through her fingers.
“What makes Belizean cacao so special,” she said, “is the terroir, the unique mix of our soil, our climate, even the sea breeze. You can taste the land in every bite. It’s what gives our chocolate its soul. ”
An older woman in a bright-pink shirt and camera secured around her neck piped up, “Oh, my husband and I learned all about terroir on a winery trip we took in France last year.” Her eyes were wide with excitement as she spoke to the group.
“If you haven’t had a chance to visit Chateau Adela?se in Maubec, one of the best vineyards in the country, we highly recommend! ”
“Hmm,” Leo whispered. “Maybe a French wine tour will be our next trip,” before leaning in to watch the local woman demonstrate the grinding process, his curiosity genuine. His easy way with people, his attentiveness, and his sincere interest made me ache in the best way.
He glanced over and caught me watching. “What?”
“Nothing,” I said, feeling a smile tug at my lips.
Leo walked over with a small wooden spoon of thick, unsweetened chocolate. “It’s gritty, bitter as hell, and basically is the consistency of mud. Want some?”
“Hmm, tempting,” I joked, but in spite of myself, I bent at the waist to tilt toward the utensil in his outstretched hand.
I pinched my face immediately, my taste buds almost ready to file a formal complaint.
Through a distinct grimace, I managed, “Delicious. I’ve always wanted to taste sidewalk chalk.”
We started to laugh, the kind that bubbles up without effort. That held something more than flirtation or humor. Perhaps ease? I didn’t know if that meant it was love. But I knew what it wasn’t.
It wasn’t what I’d ever had with Matty. And for the first time, I could see that. Clearly and without hesitation. It was its own completely new thing, something fragile, unfamiliar, but quietly promising.