Tourists returning from Andean South America will usually sport some sort of “alpaca item”: gloves, sweaters, hats, socks, all with pre-columbian-style designs, inevitably including the form of an alpaca. However, buyers rarely glimpse the truth behind this iconic industry—that the alpaca as well the artisans who work with a centuries-old tradition are in peril. But, like in centuries past, alpacas fit perfectly into the Andean environment and the needs of our modern lifestyles. Thanks to the efforts of two Ecuadorian initiatives, it is reappearing,
In Noli, a small comune in Liguria, Italy, Thomas Jefferson reports that you’ll find “a miserable tavern, but they can give you good fish viz. sardines, fresh anchovies, [etc.] and probably strawberries; perhaps too Ortolans.” In Rozzano, a comune in Milan, he recommends that you “ask for Mascarponi, a rich and excellent kind of curd, and enquire how it is made.”
Last month the World Cocoa Foundation issued a stern statement that the measures taken by the cocoa and chocolate industries and by the United States and West African governments, “have not been sufficient to achieve significant reductions in the number of children working in unacceptable conditions in West Africa, often in circumstances defined as child labor.”
In our last blog, Lourdes Páez explained the history of cocoa in Ecuador, and the challenges and opportunities in its production today. Here, we introduce you to some native Amazonian cocoa producers, and to the hope that proper cocoa production holds for them, as well as for the futures of chocolate and conservation.
Canopy Bridge recently had a chance to sit down with Lourdes Páez, an outstanding social entrepreneur working to enhance appreciation for Ecuador’s excellent cocoa and create more value for farmers of the country’s fine flavor beans. Lourdes heads the Academia del Chocolate, an organization dedicated to training and research to improve the quality, recognition and benefits of fine cocoa, and she recently launched a beautiful book dedicated to Ecuador´s rich cocoa heritage, Ecuador tierra del cacao.36″ height=”111″ />
Virtually unknown outside its native Amazon rainforest home, ishpingo (or American Cinnamon) has a deep, earthy, fruity flavor that adds a surprising and hard-to-place dimension to both sweet and savory dishes. Once a promising spice that moved the dreams of adventurers, isphingo deserves to be rediscovered and better known.
Cuando Colón se encontró con el Nuevo Mundo, sus pueblos indígenas recibieron el nombre de “indios”, una designación errónea de magnitud histórica. Una fruta hasta entonces desconocida fuera de las Américas también recibió un nombre que pertenecía a otra: el pimiento. Para los españoles que probaron esta fruta por primera vez, su picor trajo a la mente los granos de pimienta que habían sido conocidos y comercializados en Eurasia, y así el fruto del Capsicum recibió el nombre de una especie totalmente diferente.
When Columbus stumbled upon the New World, its indigenous people became known as “Indians”, a misnomer of historical magnitude. Then, too, a fruit until then unknown outside of the Americas received a name that belonged to another: the pepper. To the Spaniards who tasted this fruit for the first time, its heat brought to mind the peppercorns that had been known and traded in Eurasia, and so the fruit of the Capsicum received the name of an entirely different species.
Tal vez es la globalización, tal vez el desarrollo, o quizá sean las innovaciones digitales y las redes sociales, pero mientras estamos más conectados unos con otros, más desconectados nos hallamos de aquello mismo que nos da vida. Entre ordenadores, teléfonos inteligentes, y otros equipos, en medio de tanta información me parece alucinante que yo requiera “recordatorios” de mi conexión con la Tierra: el origen del agua que uso, como el aire que respiro ha llegado a ser lo que es, de dónde proviene mi comida.
Maybe it’s globalization, maybe it’s development, or perhaps digital innovations and social media; but while we are ever more connected to each other, we find ourselves more disconnected from the very things that keep us alive. Amidst our computers, phones and other devices, with so much information, I find it staggering that I need to be reminded of my connection to Earth: the origin of the water I use, how the air I breathe has come to be, where my food comes from.