Valrhona makes few mistakes in the visual area; none here of note. Indeed, eliminating the sculptural “artistry” of the old for the reassuring slab-shaped bar of the new makes for an improvement, and the temper shows off better, even if the colour is, perhaps, slightly darker than one might expect for a Porcelana bean. Indeed, the aroma is most un-Porcelana-like, at least as we have come to expect; instead, it’s pungent and spicy, with a mixture of pepper and clove. There’s a complementary hint of cedar-like wood, and in fact additional hints of citrus and raisin make it a very balanced aroma indeed…except for a very worrisome rubbery hint.

In fact, this rubbery hint carries over into the flavour, but only momentarily, not long enough to ruin it before the taste shifts to calmer vanilla and cocoa, then gradually grows more assured, prune and treacle suddenly emerging powerfully with hints of liquorice and coffee. The finish ultimately rescues the start and makes this a satisfying chocolate ultimately. It’s not quite as satisfying texturally, though, as Valrhonas of ages past; being moderately smooth but slightly dry. No disasters but not the effortless melt Valrhona had long had.

In the intervening years something HAS happened: Valrhona have made a dramatic style change. From being a company whose style had always been bright and refreshingly fruity, here they seem to be drifting into the Amedei style of dark, treacley chocolate. One wonders whether Valrhona is consciously or unconsciously modifying their style in the wake of Amedei’s public success. Here however there’s also something else going on. That rubber hint suggests that the fermentation, at least on this batch, was poor, and a darker, more “Amedei-like” roast might to some extent be mitigating it. There is the feeling here of a batch rescued from the brink: this is a very good chocolate, but clearly flirting with disaster. Overall it can’t be said to be a substantial improvement on the Porcelana del Pedregal, even if it’s not any worse, but Valrhona have some work to do in supplier control and process management if they are to perfect what should be their signature chocolate.

As one might expect, the colour is very light indeed, certainly relative to roasted chocolates, and while Pacari has always been a little less than obsessive about appearance, this one doesn’t look overly distorted – and certainly there aren’t any marks of real trouble in tempering and moulding. Aroma is actually surprisingly dark, hinting at blackberries and brown sugar in the way a “typical” Ecuadorian chocolate might. However an utter contrast of citrus and vinegar is entirely unlike typical Ecuadorean chocolates – and shows what we might be missing, other than here. A few woody traces also demonstrate what raw chocolate leaves in, namely the tannins that can make a chocolate great or simply bitter.

Flavour is like an explosion in a fruit-packing factory, with raspberries and redcurrants competing for attention. However, a subtle creamy modulation prevents the chocolate from just becoming sour, and indeed the flavour flows convincingly towards the sort of smooth, earthy coffee notes one might expect of a roasted bar. Can this really all be coming from raw chocolate?

Texturally the bar is good, although it doesn’t rank with the best of the European manufacturers. But with chocolate this good, those differences seem neither here nor there. This is a demonstration of definitive fermenting and conching techniques at their ultimate, and makes a case for the idea that roasting is perhaps an utterly superfluous step.

So how does this vintage break down in detail? The first, noticeable change is a format tweak – gone are the thick 100g bars with the Cluizel signature; in are thinner 70g bars with a cocoa bean logo. It will be conceded that this doesn’t give the awesome, sleek appearance the old bars did, and the new, less chunky format is marginally less convenient to eat and break into pieces, but the downsizing reflects a more realistic perspective on an appropriate size for one; 50g would be even better. Colour seems alarmingly darkish, but certainly not out of line.

The aroma is if anything even more impressive than ever, with an awesome, bold note of prune and cherry wood which conveys instant nobility. Brighter hints of cedar and balsamic assure that the bar won’t be one-sidededly heavy, either, an impression immediately confirmed by the extraordinary delicacy of the opening flavour: pure strawberries and cream. Suddenly a much more powerful wave of woody and chocolatey surges through – so this bar has both strength and grace. In a bit of a disappointment, it then tapers off into rather flatter earthy with blackberry hints – a more balanced sustain here would be appreciated.

Texture is per Cluizel normal, that is to say virtually flawless, the definition of smoothness and silkiness. In this batch Cluizel has again wrung out probably everything there is to reveal in an already impressive origin. The finish flatness is a bit disconcerting, and on this it must be said that older vintages really came into their own with respect to length, but there is nothing here to indicate that this is some sort of a long-term problem, rather, the suspicion is that this is just inevitable batch variation. Cluizel continues to have a worthy chocolate to lead his line.

Out of the wrapper, the large bar looks intimidating, with a rather dark colour and good temper. Somehow, it manages however to look like a chocolate on the warm side, priming the taste for an expected luxurious, enveloping flavour. Nothing in the aroma, furthermore, does anything to dissuade this impression: it’s powerful and rich, starting with a mixture of cherries and woods, then proceeding to sharper, redcurrant notes on a winey, raisin background. Something very exotic – mushroom – appears, a bit reminiscent of some Pralus bars, and while this earthy characteristic might seem like cause for alarm, it actually adds sophistication and depth.

The flavour doesn’t necessarily have the complexities of the aroma, but it makes up for that in exemplary delivery. Three main components stand out: chocolatey, creamy and woody. What delivers the interest here is that instead of a predictable, inexorable progression from one to the other, the flavour cycles between them, something of the flavour equivalent of a Bach fugue; formal but still captivating. There is, it will be admitted, a hint of earthy cardboard, suggesting that the roast and conche might both be reduced slightly, but it is mild enough not to distract from the overall sensation.

Texture, meanwhile, is good enough almost to be a distraction, with its effortless ultra-smoothness and creaminess, something that’s becoming a Friis-Holm “signature”. But the distraction, if any, is of a pleasant form anyway, and it complements the amazing balance that is what truly is memorable about this chocolate. There are plans afoot for Friis Holm to deliver a pure Indio Rojo: surely this will be exciting, but if any possibility exists of manageable supply, perhaps this bar might be kept for its own sake? In the last few years the fine art of blending has, it seemed, been pushed into the background in the excitement over single-origins: this bar makes the case for quality blends as well as quality single-sources.

Red Star as always makes a good if intimidating show of the visual finish, with superb tempering married to a rather dark, smooth bar to produce something sinister but compelling. However, it’s the aroma that really dominates, entirely without precedent with its initial baffling combination of cherry and mushroom. All ordinary rational sense would say this cannot work, yet somehow it does, and seems a natural introduction to further aromas of chocolatey woods, tobacco, and smoke. A very dark experience is clearly in store.

Sure enough, the flavour immediately hints at darkness, with a sweet fruity wave of grape and dried currant, powerful enough already to envelop the senses. Next it moves to chocolatey and then to very dark molasses, with the same woody and smoky notes the aroma promises. Raisin and cocoa in the finish are not unexpected but what does surprise is how long they linger, for minutes, even hours. This is power on a level seen only in a few chocolates ever.

Duffy does a good job with the texture, although it’s not even in the same category as Friis-Holm. It is nonetheless very creamy and reasonably smooth, not really a distraction – as if that were possible given this chocolate’s strength of flavour. Perhaps, indeed, that strength is paradoxically its only weakness: at times it gets perilously close to heavy-handed, as though one were drinking a cup of pure molasses at a go. But for anyone who likes their chocolate strong and uncompromising, this bar will satisfy completely.

From packaging clearly designed to appeal to an elite audience emerges a chocolate with a darker colour than one might initially be given to expect. Finish, while excellent, is difficult to evaluate given the smallish, awkward presentation in 5g squares; a format favoured also initially by Amedei and Domori before being sensibly abandoned in favour of more realistic 50g bars. However these are small quibbles entirely washed away by a superb aroma, one of the best ever. It starts out with an incredible strawberry/raisin fruitiness (just how did he achieve that?), then proceeds to hazelnut with chocolatey notes. This is the classic signature of Porcelana, and indeed lends support to the Criollo label here. Additional hints of grass and vanilla provide further light contrasts to what is one of the most sophisticated, subtle aromas ever to emerge from a chocolate.

The flavour can’t quite live up to the build-up. It starts out mostly on a chocolatey note, mixed initially with a drier, cocoa hint, then later with more interesting spicy, cinnamon characteristics. Finish, though, veers towards the dark and smoky, with tannic woody elements. All of this makes for a great basic flavour but one somehow missing the extraordinary subtlety of the aroma.

Melt can’t be faulted, super-smooth and very creamy and on the whole the bar gives little to criticise. The only problem is that it is in effect a great basic chocolate, and with this kind of build-up we might hope for something more. If Bojesen could capture the same profile in the flavour as in the aroma, it would be a fantastic chocolate indeed. What seems to be indicated is perhaps a slightly lighter roast and shorter conche. This would likely make the aroma more pungent, but with an effect of magnifying the sensations in the flavour, where it really counts. Sometimes you need to sacrifice perfection in one area to achieve it in a more important one – this may be one such case. An excellent chocolate to be sure, but one that with a bit of work can make the leap from excellent to great.

As usual the wrapper for Dandelion’s bar is lovely, although it must be said the visuals don’t extend to the bar within, which is decidedly troubling with a dark colour, and clear signs of tempering/moulding difficulties. Instantly one is primed to think “rustic chocolate”. If it is to be rustic, though, the aroma suggests at most a gentle bucolic variety, having a creamy, almond smoothness to it carrying some redcurrant fruitiness and some warm hints of cinnamon and treacle. A much more promising start than the appearance would suggest.

The taste itself proves that the aroma is indeed more indicative: this is no rustic chocolate but an exercise in refinement. The initial flavour is a wonderful, smooth tropical fruit and banana, then there is a soft woodiness before the flavour progresses towards spicy with molasses. A bit of alarming biscuittiness suggests perhaps overconching, although strangely a rough, only moderately creamy texture appears to belie this.

Clearly there’s a lot of potential in the bean, potential that Dandelion have almost fully extracted. There is room for improvement; overall, it would seem that a slightly more aggressive roast together with a gentler conche might extract even more flavour here, but even as is this is a chocolate that is about at the limit of what is reasonable to expect on a consistent basis from a first-rate manufacturer. Dandelion has obviously done their job well and thoroughly tuned process before releasing bars, which means that from the consumer point of view they will be a delight to taste from the outset. Unmistakably one of the rising stars of the chocolate world.