…and here is my reasoning and experience of 15 years in the cocoa business, and as a chemical engineer.
Cocoa powder and cacao powder is the same. What is considered “raw” cacao is suppose to be a cocoa powder that has been in a process that never exceeded 110 degrees Fahrenheit…which is already an almost impossible scenario, since cocoa beans are grown in the Equator, and you may exceed that temperature while drying in the patio under the sun covered with black linens (to heat it up and allow the fermentation of the bean)….and yes, you need to dry them, otherwise they will rotten in a few days, and the shell will be too difficult to peel off.
Back to cocoa powder…. ALL cocoa powder comes from the cocoa bean, which without the shell is called cocoa nib (a.k.a. cacao nib). The first step is grinding of the nib (which again, when you grind something to such small particle size you will create a lot of friction with -that’s right - heat!). That will give you the cocoa/cacao paste (a.k.a. cacao mass or liquor), which has about 50 to 56% fat (cocoa butter) in it…and ALL cocoa powders have to go through that stage.
Next stage is to take some of that butter away, which the raw community claims can be done through “cold pressing”. For any that don’t understand that term, cold pressing is done with oils like olive oil to preserve the oil almost intact by cooling the press plates while applying pressure (pressure generates heat, therefore it needs to be cooled). But here is a reminder, olive oil is liquid in room temperature, cocoa butter is SOLID, and it STARTS melting at about 100 degrees Fahrenheit … so, you cannot control and cool it to a point where it will be still in a solid phase, because it cannot be pressed and “flow” out.
Last operation is to grind the solids left in the press, again - heat…and there is your cocoa powder or cacao powder… you tell me if you call it “raw”, a term not defined by the FDA for cocoa, and that can be used by anyone just to sell the cocoa to a much higher price. Maybe that is why bigger, more serious companies don’t have this product, since they do not want to be liable for false advertising…
Regarding “Raw” cocoa nibs or cocoa beans…yes, that is possible, and the only concern is the high bacteriological plate count… but how much you want to train your immune system is up to each individual. And yes, the less manipulated the cocoa, the more polyphenols and healthy chemicals you will obtain from it.
There is also a difference between alkalized or ducthed powders, and the natural ones (which do not contain any potassium carbonate), being the second ones the ones containing more of the healthy properties (antioxidants). But that is totally different than claiming a “raw” cocoa powder.
So, that is my explanation, and again, I respect anyone’s opinion on what they want to eat or how they want to consume it. I just disagree with misleading the general public just to make juicy profits.
Tragedy, exile, renew, rebirth, return. Classic cycle with ingrained humor.
An interim period is most often defined as a temporary or provisional arrangement, an intervening time, a meantime. In reality, it’s torture. It’s that stretch of time between point A and point B. If point A was shit, but point B seems promising, it’s just getting past the demons of point A and not fucking everything up on your journey towards point B that poses the problem.
Interim periods can either be productive or useless. You can either build on your strengths or add to your weaknesses, it all depends on a variety of factors that spectrum from personality traits to hairstyle, both of which are considered the same by the Taoist prospective of interconnectedness, which I have come to embrace. Who you are defines what you do, it’s not vice-versa, because freewill doesn’t exist – it’s hypocritical to think that you can be something that your biology, physiology, psychology, and social environment don’t factor into. If I had freewill, I would be flying and flipping off all the fuckers walking on the ground, but I am a being within the limits of my reality, and my reality is stuck in limbo. I have managed to surpass the shit tornado of point A and I’m now patiently waiting for point B. This is the story of my interim period.
July-September: Interim period…? Living with mom in Woodville, Mississippi. No drugs, nature, might try to quit smoking.
September-December: Ireland and backpack through Eastern Europe
January-May: Finish school and get college degree
June-?: Move somewhere, start life or something. Year off? Maybe move overseas? Maybe move wherever Mary is? Maybe move to Ann Arbor, Michigan? Move somewhere far enough from Mississippi, where I can get paid?
I’m here! White horse and all, your knight in shinning armour! But if you don’t mind I would like to hurry up and chat because this armour is hot, itchy and kinda heavy. I would like to change into some blue jeans and a Tshirt so we can talk and find out a little bit more about each other. Lol! Anyways you seem cool and down to earth. I like to have fun but I’m a gentleman, I’m stable, I own my own company, I’m not looking for a one night stand or games. I know what I’m looking for and when it happens it happens. Message me and lets talk!
I just caught your profile and quite enjoyed it. I’ve grown pretty accustomed to seeing the usual “stock” answers and descriptives. So, It’s nice to see a profile that is actually original. It’s not often that I find an attractive lady that is also intriguing. Anyhow, you grabbed my attention and I’d enjoy chatting sometime if you’re up for it. BTW…how long have you been on this site? I surprised that I haven’t seen you before.
Hi,I’m Andrew. You look familiar…you don’t go to the boom boom room do you?
I like the style you have going on. I hope we get a chance to talk.
Hey. How are you sweet? You’re cute :). I’m alright..just here chillin. Maybe we could talk sometime. - Joe
We chose each other!Jun 21, 2013 – 3:16pm
Hey madcar98, We chose each other!
Reply to this message to contact me. If you don’t want to receive rating messages, go to the se
“The turkish police has added chemicals in the water they’re spraying out of water cannons. There has been a really brutal attack here tonight that is currently ongoing. The police is illegally entering the hotels people are hiding in and shooting gas bombs at the lobbies. theyve went into Divan and Hilton so far. Theyre not letting doctors help the injured and are gas bombing pop up clinics in hotels and elsewhere. This is a war crime and were not even at war. All roads to Taksim are closed and millions are passing the bridge again. They are using all their means which is prohibited by international law. This is an ideological genocide and the police is openly trying to kill us.”—A girl I met in Spain returned to family in Turkey and she’s been posting stuff life this for the past few weeks. Fucking ridiculous.
YOOO, THIS IS A STORY I WROTE A WHILE BACK; TRYING TO FINISH EDITING IT AND SHIT
It’s 8:30 am. Margret sits on the countertop with a lukewarm cup of coffee in her left hand and the newspaper in her right. She is reading about the Turks firing artillery into Syria. To her, international issues are more brutal and interesting than the local ones. The local story is about a shooting outside of a club. It’s simple math: 55% of drunk people like guns. 35% of drunk people have guns. Turks like guns. Syrians like that stuff too. They share a common border and, with a history of public executions and an influential military presence between the two nations, relations have always been tumulus. Makes for an interesting lifestyle.
Her roommate comes into the room. He has a job. He heats up a Jimmy Dean low-fat turkey sausage breakfast sandwich on a multigrain biscuit with egg whites – no cholesterol.
“Fuck this shit,” he says
“This fucking responsible lifestyle thing. I’m sick of my job, my low fat shit.”
“Quit your job and join the UN Army with me. It’s perfect Kyle. You know Chinua Achebe?”
“No and I’m beginning to think you’re crazy.”
“Well. He was this writer in Nigeria. He’s written a lot of brilliant novels regarding oppression. It’s got all these racism themes and his books leave you in complete shock. Ha, he makes this criticism on Heart of Darkness –”
“Ah, I’ve never read it. Get to the point. I’m running late.”
“Oh, well, he just wrote a book about his experience of the Biafran War in Nigeria. I’m almost done reading it. It said that it gives this poetic account on how the artist is affected by war and oppression. It’s pretty important.”
“So, you’re saying we need to go to war to become true artists?”
“Well, yeah, but it’s more than that. This could have a life changing effect on us, Kyle!”
“War. Oh, jeez Margret. Let’s just backpack through Europe. Weren’t we planning that? Don’t we have a savings account with almost 5 thousand dollars in it?”
“Yeah. I mean, I guess.”
The microwave goes off. He wraps his low-fat sandwich in a napkin and jets out the door. Margret skims through the paper for a few more minutes then returns to her bedroom to use her computer.
On YouTube, she gets distracted with the trailer for a new teenage romantic comedy with Kristen Stewart. The movie is named after a Sonic Youth song. It looks like a typical pile of shit, waste of money that could go to a more nobel cause, and it gives a great music group a horrible legacy. That’s what America is to her, a pile of shit that came from something great. But halfway through the trailer, she remembers her dream from the last night.
It is a mutant philosopher. He flashes his white, glowing teeth and right as she begins to blush, he shrinks and melts into a chubby dwarf gnome mutant. She remembers counting his 26 rolls of fat as he was talking about Satre’s burden of responsibility. “Freedom brings a heavy burden onto humanity. With it comes responsibility, guilt, remorse, and punishment. Are you noble enough to accept responsibility, Margret? Are you human enough to be human?”
A part of her regrets dropping out of college a month or so ago. The thought of writing a 30-page senior thesis is much too much for her. She loses too much sleep over these complex concepts and the next day her teachers speak to her in Latin. She can’t understand her readings either because they are in Sanskrit. The worst part is that this alien subject is now invading her sleep!
She sighs. She looks around her room. Clothes are in piles scattered around the floor. Papers and manuscripts are apportioned in crumbles, disseminated above and below her desk. She pulls out the last essay she wrote. It is regarding Nihilism – the ontological interpretations that question the actual existence of reality.
“Despite the interpretation that sense data is caused by mind-independent objects, there is a lack of determinacy in one’s true perception. Therefore, a mind-independent reality cannot exist.”
She remembers writing that paper a month and a half ago. Her nights are filled with sleepless tossing and turning while debating her actual existence in her mind. Then, it becomes depression resulting in her lack of presence in the world-at-large. She shakes her head, returning to the present, and throws the paper back onto a stack.
She begins to investigate the army. She types ‘how to join the un army’ in Google. Yahoo’s best answer chosen by voters reads that you have to be a member of a UN nation and join the country’s army to serve as a UN peacekeeper. You cannot do this in the United States.
This country of opportunity does not provide a chance to change to world as a UN peacekeeper. She does not want to join the regular army. This will take her to Afghanistan and she does not want to be in Afghanistan. That war feeds off US propaganda. The only brainwash she is affected by is her own.
She types in a search entitled ‘flights to Syria’ and she finds a round trip flight for around $1,500. She will show this information to Kyle when he returns. This might be the opportunity of a lifetime.