My Theobroma cacao story began when I learned that chocolate came from a tree. Once I knew that, I wanted to grow the tree myself. I lived in Indiana, but I was already falling in love with tropical plants and finding out what I could keep alive indoors through winter. Cacao became one of those plants I simply had to try.
I couldn't have guessed where that curiosity would take me. A plant trade led to a tree in a five-gallon pot, a friendship in Puerto Rico, trips to Chicago and New York, and a speaking invitation in Key West. Along the way there were falling leaves, tiny flowers, homemade chocolate and more than a few moments when I wondered whether I knew enough. This is the story of how one tropical tree became such a lasting part of my life.
A Plant Trade That Changed My Gardening Life
Back in the late 1990s, GardenWeb was where I went to talk plants with people who understood the excitement of finding something unusual. I was new to gardening and discovering just how much I loved tropical plants. Someone would send me a plant, and I had to find out whether I could keep it growing indoors through an Indiana winter. Before long, I was volunteering at the Foellinger-Freimann Botanical Conservatory in Fort Wayne, learning what I could and bringing home seeds, cuttings and sometimes plants they were selling or letting go.
Then someone offered me a Theobroma cacao tree in trade. I was over the moon! This was the actual plant behind chocolate, and it was coming to my house. It was large enough to need a five-gallon pot when it arrived, but my excitement soon turned to worry. The leaves kept falling off. I had finally gotten this wonderful plant, and it looked as though I was going to lose it.
Research led me to its need for humidity and a flood/dry/flood watering cycle. I added composted horse manure to the potting soil, hoping to give it something closer to the rich conditions of its rainforest home. Then I put pebbles and water in a saucer beneath the pot, positioned bamboo sticks around the inside edge, and wrapped the whole arrangement in Saran Wrap, from the saucer to the top of the tree. It certainly wasn't a fancy setup, but new leaves began appearing. Each week I removed a little more of the wrap, misting several times a day as I gradually exposed the plant to the air.
Two years later, after attending the Garden Writers Association Annual Symposium, I came home to find that tree in bloom. It was still in the same five-gallon pot. After the leaf loss, the research and that homemade humidity enclosure, there were flowers on my chocolate tree in Indiana!
The week away had been hard on its foliage, though. I had brought it indoors because I was concerned about leaving it outside in hot weather without regular watering. Its leaves looked good when I left and pretty ratty when I returned. I moved it back into a shady outdoor spot and used my hummingbird mister to keep it moist, without a saucer beneath the pot. That first tree gave me both the thrill of flowering and a very practical lesson in how much attention humidity demanded.
Following Chocolate to Chicago
Once I had a cacao tree of my own, I wanted to learn everything I could about it. Several trips to Chicago became part of that search. I visited botanical gardens to see trees in flower or carrying pods, and I stood in line for hours to get into a chocolate festival at a local botanical garden. Apparently, my interest in this plant was strong enough that a long line wasn't going to send me home!
At the Field Museum's chocolate exhibit, I saw a 300-pound chocolate dinosaur and watched a cooking demonstration by Wolfgang Puck. There was plenty to take in, but the information about cacao kept drawing me back to the living plant. Chocolate had a history, and the tree growing in my pot was connected to it.
Those visits gave me a chance to see beyond what I could observe at home. A tree with pods, a tree in bloom, an exhibit explaining chocolate's story: each added another piece to what I was learning. I could return to Indiana and look at my own plant with a little more understanding. My questions were taking me places, and I was happy to follow them.
Fresh Pods, a Friendship and My First Homemade Chocolate
One of the best things to come out of GardenWeb was meeting Bryan in Puerto Rico. He grew different kinds of Theobroma and eventually started Montoso Gardens. When his trees were producing, I had a way to obtain fresh pods. Over the years he sent different types for me to examine and try growing, including varieties that were new to me. Those pods opened up possibilities I would have had a hard time exploring on my own in Indiana.
Bryan was also generous with his knowledge. He answered my questions, helped me understand the plants and guided me when I decided to try making chocolate from scratch. He warned me that without the right equipment, my chocolate wouldn't have the smooth texture of store-bought chocolate. He was right, but I didn't care. I wanted to experience the process and understand what happened between a cacao pod and something I could actually taste.
Growing the seeds became another part of the adventure. Damp paper towels worked well for me, and before long I had cacao seedlings to care for and share. I've written about that process in How to Germinate Cacao Seeds: Growing Your Own Chocolate Tree if you would like to try it yourself. For me, that friendship brought together the questions I had been asking: how to grow the tree, what was inside the pod, and how those seeds became chocolate.
Taking My Indiana Cacao Experience to Key West
As I learned more, I began sharing cacao through presentations, from small garden clubs to state conventions. I talked about the history of chocolate, starting seeds and growing the tree. Whenever possible, I gave people a seed to take home or brought seedlings they could buy. Having a living plant in front of them made the subject much more personal.
Then I was invited to speak at the Key West Tropical Fruit Fiesta, and my heart skipped a beat. What could I, a gardener from Indiana, offer people who lived somewhere warm enough to grow this tree? I wanted to go badly enough to accept, but that question came along with me. I packed small seedlings and the information I had gathered, hoping people would find something useful in what I had to share.
The response surprised me. People wanted the seedlings, and I sold out so quickly my head was spinning! During my talk, I described the banana-leaf fermentation method I had researched. A man listened closely, then approached me afterward and asked how I knew about the process. I felt intimidated. I had done the reading, but I had never visited a cacao farm to watch it happen.
I told him that honestly. He said he worked on a cacao plantation and confirmed that the method I had described was one they used. What a relief! That conversation mattered to me because someone with firsthand plantation experience had listened and recognized what I was describing. I had come to Key West wondering whether I had anything to offer, and I left with encouragement to keep sharing what I was learning.
The New York Invitation I Wish I Had Accepted
An invitation to speak about cacao at the New York Botanical Garden should have been wonderful news. Instead, I was scared to death when the email arrived. I didn't have a horticultural degree. I had become a Gold Level Master Gardener, belonged to the Garden Writers Association, and spent years researching and growing plants, but I still wondered whether I belonged there giving a presentation.
Oh my, I let that fear get the best of me. I turned down the invitation, and I regret it. That is part of this story too. Learning something, working at it and being invited to share it don't always mean you feel ready when the opportunity arrives.
I did eventually visit the garden during the Monet Garden Exhibition. It was an amazing place, but you can probably guess what especially caught my attention: a beautiful cacao tree carrying both blossoms and pods. It stood right at the edge of the walkway, and I took photographs of myself with it as well as close views of the pods.
Some of those pods were growing low on the trunk. I had seen cacao in botanical gardens before, but this was my first chance to observe pods on the lower trunk so closely. I stepped carefully near the tree for my photographs, taking care around the plantings and making sure I didn't knock off flowers or pods. I wouldn't encourage visitors to leave the walkways; I wanted to capture what fascinated me without damaging anything. Those photographs still belong to a memorable visit, even though I wish my first trip there had been to give that talk.
The Story Kept Growing, and So Did the Questions
Growing cacao in Indiana has included losses as well as successes. Over the years, power outages have cost me more trees than I would like to remember. Caring for a tropical plant in a cold climate means that warmth can become a very immediate concern, and sometimes all the attention you give a plant can't make up for losing heat.
I have kept visiting botanical gardens to see their cacao trees. On one return visit to the Foellinger-Freimann Botanical Conservatory, I found a tree with dried blooms and pods at different stages. Years earlier, I had left seedlings there after giving a luncheon presentation. I wondered whether this might be one of them. There wasn't anyone available to ask, so I never found out. Still, it was a lovely possibility to consider in the place where I had begun learning about tropical plants.
That visit also left me with questions. Some pods were badly dried, branches were broken, and there were numerous dry leaves. I didn't know what had happened. The tiny flowers interested me too. I knew about midges pollinating cacao in its native environment, but I wanted to understand what was happening with the trees grown under glass. Seeing pods told me that pollination had occurred; it didn't tell me how that particular garden managed it.
When I first wrote this story, Tom Ogren and I were waiting to learn whether our chocolate gardening book proposal would find a publisher. That part of the story has moved forward: our book, A Chocolate Lover's Garden, is now published. It brings another chapter to an interest that began with a plant trade and kept leading me toward new plants, people and questions.
If this has made you curious about growing the plant behind chocolate, visit my Cacao & Chocolate Gardening hub to explore the growing articles and book. You can also watch my cacao videos for a closer look at the plants. I'd love to know what draws you to cacao. Have you tried growing a tree, or is this the first time you've considered chocolate as something you could grow?
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