The Price of Blood and Heart (The Ancient Origins of Cocoa)

For those with a penchant for the sophisticated, velvety, and – dare we say – sacred delights of cocoa, the Theobromae family is much more than just the family tree of everyone's favorite indulgence. It’s a tale as rich as a 70% dark chocolate bar, sprinkled with history, culture, and perhaps a dash of intrigue.

The tropical and often impenetrable Amazon basin isn't just home to peculiar creatures and plants that could give Dr. Seuss a run for his money. It’s also the likely birthplace of the beloved cacao. Some 4,000 or 5,000 years ago, before influencers, the only thing going viral was the wild spread of cocoa beans through Central America.

The western Amazon was the birthplace, but much like that one fabulous friend at the party, cocoa didn't stay in one place for long. It spread with the enthusiasm of an ancient adventurer and soon found itself at home in the lands that would become Guatemala, Belize, and Tabasco – and no, not just the hot sauce.

By the 2nd or 3rd centuries, cocoa had firmly established itself in Mayan society. It wasn’t just a foodstuff – it was practically a god in a cup. The discovery of a cocoa-drink-filled in a priest's tomb in Río Azul, Guatemala, dating back to the 5th century, confirms that even the ancient elite couldn't resist the call of cacao. This wasn't just a beverage; it was an elixir, a holy indulgence that demanded both reverence and taste buds. The priestly burial, with its ritualistic undertones, suggests that when the Mayans sipped on chocolate, they weren’t just getting their caffeine fix – they were in communion with the divine.

And what of the curious vessel itself? Adorned with the earliest known phonetic symbols for "kakaw," this cup wasn’t just a Starbucks tumbler – it was a talisman, a marker of cocoa’s sacred and revered status.

Fast forward a century or two, and cocoa had evolved from its celestial status to become the standard of commerce. If you thought bitcoin was a wild currency, imagine an economy where your wealth is measured in beans – cocoa beans, to be precise. By the 6th and 7th centuries, these little brown morsels were used to grease the wheels of trade in Tabasco, Campeche, Belize, and beyond. And just like any good commodity, it was versatile: if you didn’t want to spend it, you could drink it. Truly, the best of both worlds.

As time progressed and cocoa’s influence spread, even the Mexica (commonly known as the Aztecs) tried their hand at cultivating this liquid gold. They’re up in the Altiplano, a region not exactly known for being a tropical paradise. But with some success, they managed to acclimatize cacao to the cooler climates of Oaxtepec and Alahuiztlán. It's almost as if they were attempting an early version of urban farming, using every ounce of their ingenuity to bring the plant closer to home.

As the 16th century dawned, the eve of the Spanish conquest was awash with cocoa’s glory. By then, it was the crown jewel of Mesoamerica’s agricultural and trade landscape. From the Pacific’s Guanacaste region to the Gulf of Honduras, cacao was the most important crop, except perhaps for the ever-essential corn. The Antilles and South America couldn't resist its allure, and trade networks buzzed with the exchange of cocoa beans, driving not just commerce but culture and ritual as well.

And so, when Hernán Cortés and his fellow conquistadors arrived, it wasn’t just gold or silver that sparkled in their eyes. They quickly realized that the real treasure – the key to the heart and soul of Mesoamerica – was contained in the humble cocoa bean.

The Noble Bean

At first glance, one might be surprised to learn that the Mesoamericans consumed cocoa in myriad forms, beginning with the pod itself. The fruit’s chewy flesh was enjoyed as a tropical snack, while its beans—those iconic cacao nibs—were savored both fresh and dried. But where their culinary artistry truly shone was in the transformation of these humble beans into a drink that has captivated the world for millennia: the precursor to the modern-day hot chocolate. Yet, to call it simply "hot chocolate" would be a profound injustice, for the Mesoamerican version was cold, invigorating, and unlike anything found in a modern café.

The Aztec cacahuapinolli, a powder derived from grinding cocoa beans with corn, was one of the simplest yet most versatile concoctions. In its essence, the preparation was deceptively straightforward. The cocoa beans were ground several times, each round yielding a finer consistency, until a rich, silky powder emerged. This was mixed with corn kernels, transforming it into a base for a variety of drinks. And thus began a process that blurred the line between alchemy and cuisine.

In its most basic form, the cocoa beverage was made by combining this ground powder with water—a cold, frothy, slightly bitter elixir, which could be consumed plain or elaborated with an almost unimaginable array of ingredients. Sweeteners such as honey balanced the natural bitterness of the cocoa, while vanilla—a native Mesoamerican treasure in its own right—infused the drink with fragrant warmth. But where the recipe truly became a canvas for the creative palate was in the addition of herbs, flowers, and spices, each of which added a distinct layer of flavor, aroma, and sometimes, color.

One of the most striking inclusions was annatto, a natural colorant that painted the cocoa a rich, luxurious red. This crimson hue not only enhanced the visual appeal of the drink but also underscored its ceremonial significance. Other botanicals, such as the exotically named mecaxochitl, tecomaxochitl, xochinacaztli, and eloxochiquidhuitl—each more tongue-twisting than the last—were used to infuse the drink with floral or earthy undertones, creating an unparalleled sensory experience. The floral essence of chichihualxochitl might remind modern connoisseurs of a fine perfumed tea, but for the Aztecs, it was a reminder of the sacred balance between the earth and the heavens.

What sets the Mesoamerican cocoa drink apart from its modern iterations is its frothy texture, an essential part of the experience. Achieved through a laborious process of straining and lifting the mixture to coax a foamy head, this wasn't just an aesthetic touch—it was integral to the drink’s texture and taste. A thick foam symbolized wealth and abundance, and in some cases, the thicker the foam, the more highly prized the beverage.

And then there were the more adventurous additives, spices like chili peppers that infused the drink with an unexpected kick, or seeds from the pochotl tree, lending a nutty richness. Imagine the thrill of a drink that balanced the delicate floral sweetness of honey and vanilla with the heat of chili, and the cool smoothness of a finely-ground corn-cocoa base with the vibrancy of fresh herbs. Each cup was an experiment, an exploration of flavor that changed with the seasons, the harvest, and the mood of the maker.

More Than Just a Sweet Treat

For the Aztecs, and other Central American civilizations, few foods held the same enigmatic power as cocoa, known as "cocoaatl". This humble seed, transformed into a drink of kings and warriors, represented a delicate balance between life and death, pleasure and discipline.

Among the Aztecs, cocoa was not only coveted for its taste but revered for its status. Unlike the modern association of cocoa with sweet chocolate, its historical significance lies deeper than indulgence—it was a drink reserved for the noble pipiltin and valiant warriors. The commoners could only partake of it in carefully regulated ceremonies. To indulge in it without permission was to court danger, as it was a privilege so precious it cost lives—earning it the fearsome title: "yollotlieztli," or "price of blood and heart."

But cocoa's allure didn’t end with its association with elite circles. This was a drink celebrated for its endurance and energy-giving properties, vital for the warriors who drank it before or after battle. One might even say cocoa was the world’s earliest "energy drink," although significantly more refined in both its preparation and cultural significance. The Aztecs perfected the art of consuming it with corn, producing cakes that dissolved in water, providing sustenance for days. These cakes were marvels of practicality. Once ground and solidified, they could be dissolved in water for a full week, improving in flavor the longer they sat, as if steeped in the very essence of time itself.

This process of transforming cocoa into a durable, portable food encapsulates the ingenuity of the Aztecs. These cakes required minimal water, were left to thicken, and, once solidified, became a sustaining, rich meal for those who needed to preserve their energy over extended periods. A cocoa drink, ground four or five hours prior to consumption, was said to be not only "good and better from morning to night," but even superior the following day. This method of preservation reflected the profound relationship the Aztecs had with both the natural world and their daily lives, where sustenance was both practical and symbolic.

Yet, at the pinnacle of Mesoamerican life, cocoa’s role was as much ceremonial as it was culinary. It was integral to lavish banquets that were performed with almost theatrical grandeur. As chronicler Bernardino de Sahagún noted, after feasts, the nobles were served an array of cocoa drinks, each brewed with a different infusion or flavor. The combinations of cocoa were staggering: cocoa with tender pods, cocoa with honey, cocoa infused with hueynacaztli flowers, and cocoa mixed with tlilxochitl—an exotic vanilla orchid. Some cocoa was served in shades of red, others in dark black, each symbolizing different flavors and occasions. And the vessels in which they were consumed were works of art themselves: intricately painted gourds with rich lids and turtle-shell spoons to stir the precious liquid.

As enchanting as this sounds, cocoa was more than just a liquid luxury. It was a key to Mesoamerican health and spiritual life. The cocoa tree, revered for its fruit, was central to rituals, medicine, and symbolism. The indigenous peoples of Central America, far ahead of their time in terms of culinary experimentation, had mastered a version of "cooked cocoa" that mirrors modern chocolate. The process involved extracting cocoa butter, heating the seeds in water, and skimming off the rich fats, which were then cooled and solidified into a paste that could be dissolved into a drink. This drink was not only pleasurable but was also considered medicinal, providing relief and vitality.

For the Spanish conquistadors who encountered this magical drink, cocoa was a revelation. Its preparation, its medicinal and spiritual importance, and its central place in Mesoamerican society were unlike anything they had experienced. More than a mere culinary novelty, cocoa became a coveted prize, both for its economic potential and for its cultural significance. To the Spanish, the tree and its fruits symbolized the sophistication and richness of the civilizations they sought to conquer. Cocoa represented the intersection of indulgence and piety, of sustenance and social hierarchy—a beverage that was at once earthy and divine.

And so, the story of cocoa is not just one of flavor and fortification but a saga of power, prestige, and privilege. From the Aztec warriors who drank it to prepare for battle to the nobles who sipped it from delicate gourds, this drink was the bloodline of an empire, a concoction whose richness extended far beyond its taste, reaching into the very soul of Mesoamerican life.

In every gourd of ancient cocoa, there lies a story—a tale of survival, of power, of hearts bled for the privilege of partaking in something so sacred. Today, as we sip our hot chocolates and indulge in chocolate bars, we partake in a legacy steeped in ritual and reverence. Though sweetened for modern palates, cocoa still holds that magical thread connecting us to the past, where kings and commoners alike once savored its mystery and might.

In-text Citation: (González de la Vara, 2018, pp. 291-308)