How Chocolate Is Made Worksheet Download

Yum look at that yummy chocolate! Chocolate comes from a tree. The tree grows big pods full of seeds called beans.

Those beans are the start of every chocolate bar! People dry the beans in the warm sun. Then the beans are cooked and squished into smooth chocolate.

Chocolate started as a warm drink long ago. Did you know the Maya people drank it long ago? Today we love chocolate so much we hand it out on Halloween!

Do you love the sweet taste of chocolate? It starts on a tree that grows where it is warm and wet. Big pods hang on the tree, and beans hide inside them!

Those beans do not taste sweet yet. Workers dry the beans in the sun, then roast them until they smell good. Next the beans are ground up to make chocolate.

Long ago, people called the Maya made a chocolate drink, not candy. Their drink was warm and a little bit spicy. Today we get chocolate as candy, and many kids find it in their bags on Halloween!

Did you know your chocolate bar starts as a bean that grows on a tree? It's true! Cacao trees grow in warm, rainy places near the equator, where big colorful pods hang right off the trunk.

Inside each pod are seeds called cacao beans, and this is where chocolate really begins. Workers scoop out the beans and let them sit in boxes for a few days, then dry them in the warm sun. Next the beans are roasted until they smell rich and toasty, and then they are ground into a thick, sticky paste.

That sticky paste tastes very bitter, so long ago people mixed it with water to make a special drink. The Maya and the Aztec people in Mexico loved this frothy chocolate drink, but they did not add sugar the way we do. Their chocolate was spicy and not sweet at all!

Sweet chocolate came later, when people added sugar and milk to make the candy you know today. Chocolate is now one of the treats kids get most on Halloween night. So the next time you bite into a chocolate bar, remember it began as a bean on a tree far away!

Imagine biting into a chocolate treat on Halloween night, all sweet and creamy on your tongue. Would you believe that yummy candy starts as a hard, bumpy fruit growing on a tree? Chocolate begins with cacao trees, which grow in warm, rainy places near the middle of the Earth called the equator. On these trees hang big pods, each shaped a little like a football and packed with seeds we call cacao beans.

Those hidden beans have a long journey before they can melt in your mouth. First, workers crack open the pods and scoop out the beans, which are covered in white goo. Then the beans are left to rest, or ferment, for several days, and after that they are dried in the sun. Because fresh beans taste bitter and not sweet at all, this resting step helps give chocolate its rich flavor.

Once the beans are dry, the real magic of turning them into chocolate can begin. The beans are roasted until they smell wonderful, then ground up into a thick, gooey paste. Long ago, the Maya and Aztec people in Mexico mixed this paste with water and spices to make a frothy chocolate drink. They loved it so much that they even used cacao beans as money, so a handful of beans could buy your dinner!

That special drink was nothing like the sweet bars we unwrap today. Later, people in Europe added sugar and milk, which made chocolate smooth and sweet instead of bitter. Soon candy makers learned to pour it into molds and wrap it in shiny paper, so it was easy to hand out. That is how chocolate became the treat dropped into trick-or-treat bags every Halloween, all from a bean that once cost as much as a coin!

Imagine standing in a warm, steamy forest near the equator, where a tree grows strange football-shaped pods right out of its trunk. Crack one open and you won't find candy at all - just a slippery white pulp packed with about 30 to 50 pale seeds called cacao beans. Those bitter beans taste nothing like chocolate yet, but with a lot of work they will become the sweet treat dropped into your Halloween bag. How does a slimy seed turn into a candy bar? Follow along!

Before those beans can travel anywhere, they need a rest in the sun. Farmers scoop the beans and their pulp into piles or boxes and let them ferment for about a week, where warmth and tiny living things called microbes give the beans their deep chocolate flavor. After fermenting, the beans are spread out to dry, sometimes on long wooden trays, until they harden and turn a rich brown. Only then are they packed into sacks and shipped to factories far away.

Once the dried beans reach a factory, the real transformation begins with fire. Workers roast the beans to bring out their flavor, then crack off the shells and grind the insides into a thick, gritty paste. That paste is squeezed, mixed with sugar and milk, and stirred for hours until it becomes the smooth chocolate you know. Believe it or not, chocolate was a bitter drink for thousands of years before anyone thought to make it sweet.

Speaking of that bitter drink, the ancient Maya and Aztec peoples of Central America and Mexico loved it long before candy existed. They ground roasted cacao beans into a frothy drink flavored with spices, and the Aztecs valued the beans so much they used them as money. A story was even told that the god Quetzalcoatl gave cacao to people as a gift. Can you imagine paying for lunch with a handful of beans?

Chocolate stayed a fancy drink for the wealthy until machines in the 1800s made it cheap enough for everyone to eat by the bar. Once candy makers could wrap small chocolates quickly and sell them for pennies, they became the perfect thing to hand out to trick-or-treaters. Today chocolate is one of the most popular candies given away on Halloween in the United States. So the next time you unwrap a piece, remember it began as a bitter bean in a steamy forest - and once cost as much as gold.

Here's a puzzle for you: how does a bumpy, football-shaped pod hanging from a tree in a steamy jungle turn into the smooth candy bar in your Halloween bag? The answer starts with the cacao tree, which grows only in warm, rainy places near the equator, in countries like Ghana, Ivory Coast, and Ecuador. Right on the trunk and branches grow colorful pods, some as long as your forearm, in shades of yellow, red, and purple. Crack one open and you won't find candy at all, but rows of pale seeds wrapped in slippery white pulp.

Those seeds are the secret, and getting flavor out of them takes patience, not magic. First, workers scoop the beans and pulp into boxes or piles, cover them, and let them ferment for about a week, which builds the deep chocolate taste. Next the beans are spread out to dry in the sun, then roasted until they turn dark brown and smell rich and toasty. After roasting, the beans are cracked and ground into a thick, gritty paste, and only later are sugar and milk stirred in to make the sweet chocolate you know.

Long before anyone dreamed of a candy bar, people were grinding these very beans by hand. The Maya, who lived in what is now Mexico and Central America, ground roasted cacao into a frothy drink they poured back and forth between cups to raise the foam. The Aztec later prized cacao beans so highly that they used them as money, trading beans for cloth, food, and other goods. Their chocolate was nothing like ours, though: it was thick, bitter, and often spiced with chili peppers rather than sweetened with sugar.

That bitter drink began its long journey to sweetness when Spanish explorers carried cacao back to Europe in the 1500s. Europeans added sugar and honey, and suddenly the drink they once found strange became a treat wealthy people couldn't get enough of. For a long time chocolate stayed a drink, until inventors in the 1800s learned to press, mix, and mold it into solid bars. Once machines could make chocolate quickly and cheaply, it changed from a fancy luxury into a candy almost anyone could buy.

That change is exactly why chocolate ends up in your bag every October. When trick-or-treating spread across the United States in the twentieth century, cheap wrapped candy was the perfect thing to hand out at the door. According to the National Retail Federation, Americans spend billions of dollars on Halloween candy each year, and chocolate is usually near the top of the list. So the next time you unwrap a chocolate on Halloween night, remember it began as a bitter jungle seed the Aztec once spent like coins!

Peel the wrapper off a chocolate bar and you'd never guess it started as something you'd probably spit out. The chocolate we love begins as a seed hidden inside a bumpy pod the size of a small football, growing straight out of the trunk of the cacao tree. Crack one of those pods open and you find rows of pale beans wrapped in slippery white pulp, and the raw beans taste harsh and bitter, nothing like candy. Turning that mouth-puckering seed into a sweet, melty treat takes weeks of work and a whole lot of clever steps. So how does something so bitter become something so beloved?

The answer starts in a narrow band of hot, wet land wrapped around the equator. Cacao trees are picky about home and grow best within about 20 degrees north or south of the equator, in rainforest countries like Ivory Coast, Ghana, Indonesia, and Ecuador. They like shade, steady warmth, and heavy rain, which is why farmers often tuck them beneath taller trees like living umbrellas. A single tree can produce pods almost all year long, yet it yields only a few pounds of dried beans in a season. Each pod holds around 30 to 40 beans, so it takes hundreds of beans to make just one bar.

Those freshly scooped beans still have a long journey before they smell like chocolate at all. First, workers pile the beans and pulp together and let them ferment for about a week, and this warm, funky stage is where the true chocolate flavor is born. Next the beans are spread out in the sun to dry, then shipped off to be roasted, which deepens their color and coaxes out that rich aroma. After roasting, the beans are cracked and ground into a thick, gritty paste called chocolate liquor, even though it contains no alcohol. Add sugar, extra cocoa butter, and sometimes milk, and finally that bitter bean tastes like the candy you know.

Long before anyone poured sugar into it, people were already crazy about this bean. The Maya and later the Aztec people of Mexico and Central America roasted and ground cacao into a frothy drink, often spiced with chili and served without any sweetener. They valued the beans so highly that the Aztec even used them as money, meaning you could literally buy things with chocolate. When Spanish explorers carried cacao back to Europe in the 1500s, Europeans stirred in sugar and honey, and the bitter drink slowly turned sweet. For a long time chocolate was a pricey drink for the wealthy, not a snack you could grab at any store.

It took machines and inventors in the 1800s to move chocolate from a fancy cup into your candy dish. Factories learned to press, smooth, and mold chocolate into solid bars that were cheap enough for almost anyone to buy. By the 1900s, wrapped chocolate bars and bite-size pieces were everywhere, which is exactly why they became the classic treat handed out on Halloween. When you drop a mini bar into a trick-or-treater's bag this October, you're passing along a food the Aztec once counted out like coins. Not bad for a bitter little seed most people would have spit right back out.

The next time you unwrap a chocolate bar, hold it up and consider this: that smooth, sweet square began as a bitter, purple-brown bean packed inside a pod the size of a small football. The pod grows straight out of the trunk and branches of the cacao tree, which thrives only in a hot, wet belt within about 20 degrees of the equator. Crack one open and you would not find candy at all, but a slippery white pulp cradling 30 to 50 almond-shaped seeds. Those seeds are the beans, and the long journey from that sticky pod to your Halloween bag is one of the strangest transformations in the food world.

That white pulp, so easy to overlook, is actually where the magic starts. Farmers scoop the beans and pulp into boxes or heap them under banana leaves, and for about a week the pulp ferments, growing hot and sour as microbes break it down. Fermentation is the step that unlocks the flavors we recognize as chocolate; skip it, and the beans stay flat and dull. After fermenting, the beans are spread out to dry in the sun for several days, raked and turned until they lose most of their moisture.

Dried and bagged, those beans still taste nothing like a candy bar, which is where fire comes in. Roasting the beans over heat deepens their color and coaxes out hundreds of flavor compounds, the same way roasting does for coffee. The roasted beans are cracked and their papery shells blown away, leaving crunchy pieces called nibs. Grinding the nibs releases their fat, and the friction turns them into a thick, dark paste called chocolate liquor, which contains no alcohol despite the name.

Long before any factory roasted a single bean, that dark paste was already prized half a world away. The Maya and later the Aztec ground roasted beans into a drink, mixed it with water, chili, and spices, and whipped it until it foamed on top. It was bitter and served without sugar, a far cry from the sweet stuff you know, and it was treated as something precious. In fact, the Aztec valued cacao beans so highly that they used them as money, trading a handful for goods at market.

Money you can drink sounds like a tall tale, but Spanish explorers who reached the Americas in the 1500s took the custom seriously and carried the beans back to Europe. There, cooks added sugar and warmed the drink, and chocolate became a fashionable treat sipped by the wealthy for the next two centuries. The real turning point came in the 1800s, when new machines learned to press, sweeten, and mold chocolate into solid bars anyone could hold. What had been a rare drink for royalty was suddenly a candy a child could buy with pocket change.

That cheap, wrapped candy is exactly what made chocolate a Halloween star. When trick-or-treating spread across American neighborhoods in the mid-1900s, factory-made chocolate bars were the perfect thing to hand out: sealed, sweet, and ready by the handful. Today a National Retail Federation survey each year finds Americans planning to spend billions on Halloween candy, and chocolate ranks among the most popular choices. So remember, that treat in your bag traveled from a rain-soaked tree near the equator, through an ancient royal cup, before it ever landed on your doorstep.

Picture a Spanish soldier standing in the court of the Aztec emperor Moctezuma around 1519, being handed a frothy, reddish-brown drink in a golden cup. He took a sip and grimaced, because the drink was bitter, spicy, and nothing like the sweet chocolate you unwrap on Halloween night. That drink was the ancestor of every candy bar in your trick-or-treat bag, and its journey from a royal cup to a plastic pumpkin took almost four hundred years. Along the way, the people who made it, the flavors they added, and the very form it took all changed completely. How a bitter beverage became a solid sweet is one of the great transformation stories in the history of food.

That transformation started, as chocolate always does, with a tree. The cacao tree grows only in a narrow band within about twenty degrees of the equator, in hot, rainy forests in places like West Africa, Indonesia, and Central America. On its trunk and branches grow football-shaped pods, and inside each pod sit thirty to fifty seeds surrounded by sweet white pulp. Those seeds are the cacao beans, but if you bit into one straight from the pod, you would spit it out, because raw beans taste harsh and astringent. The flavor we call chocolate does not exist in the tree at all; it has to be manufactured through a series of steps invented and refined by people.

Those steps begin with a process that looks less like cooking and more like rotting on purpose. Workers scoop the beans and pulp into boxes or piles, cover them, and let them ferment for about a week, during which microbes heat the mass and chemically change the beans inside. Fermentation is where the bitter seed first develops the compounds that will later taste like chocolate, which is why historians argue it may be the single most important step of all. Next the beans are spread out to dry in the sun, then roasted, then cracked and ground into a thick paste called chocolate liquor, though it contains no alcohol. Skip or rush any one of these stages and the final product tastes flat, so the difference between cheap and fine chocolate often comes down to how carefully each step was done.

Long before factories did any of that grinding, the Maya and later the Aztecs were doing it by hand for a very different result. They roasted the beans, ground them on stone, and whipped the paste with water, chili, and cornmeal into that spicy drink the Spanish soldier tasted, not a sweet at all. To these cultures cacao was so valuable that the beans were used as money, and a small handful of beans could reportedly buy food at market. When the drink reached Europe in the 1500s, wealthy Spaniards made one crucial change: they added sugar and warmed it, turning a savory drink into a sweet luxury. For the next two centuries, though, chocolate stayed a drink you sipped, expensive enough that mostly the rich could afford it.

The leap from cup to candy bar depended on machines, not recipes. In 1828 a Dutch chemist named Coenraad van Houten invented a press that squeezed much of the fat, called cocoa butter, out of the beans, producing an easy-mixing cocoa powder. A couple of decades later, English makers realized they could add that pressed-out cocoa butter back in to make a paste smooth enough to pour into molds, and the solid eating bar was born. Then around 1875 a Swiss maker named Daniel Peter, working with his neighbor Henri Nestlé, combined chocolate with condensed milk to create milk chocolate, the mild, creamy kind most Halloween candy is made of today. Each invention built on the last, which is why no single person can honestly be called the inventor of the chocolate bar.

Those milk-chocolate bars are exactly what fills your bag on October 31st, but candy did not always mean chocolate. For most of Halloween's history, children received fruit, nuts, coins, or homemade treats, and mass-produced wrapped chocolate only took over the holiday in the middle of the twentieth century, once it was cheap and safe to hand out sealed. According to National Retail Federation surveys, Americans now plan to spend billions of dollars on Halloween candy each year, much of it chocolate. So when you unwrap a bar tonight, remember that you are tasting the end of a chain that runs from a rainforest tree, through fermenting boxes and Aztec cups, to a Dutch press and a Swiss dairy. The bitter drink Moctezuma offered a stunned soldier five centuries ago has been reinvented so many times that he probably would not recognize a single bite of it.