Kitu Chocolate in Quito, Ecuador
by David Nilsen
On our second to last day in Quito in June we discovered a new-to-us chocolate maker that had only been open a few months: Kitu Chocolate Artesenal del Ecuador.
On this day, we wandered the streets of the Old Town, the colonial center of the city, with many buildings dating to the 17th century. We’d criss-crossed the neighborhood over the last few days, visiting cathedrals and monasteries, checking out restaurants and breweries, and taking plenty of photos. While the temperature this day hovered in the low 70s—actually somewhat warm for Quito—the bright sun made it feel 10 degrees hotter.
The old, colonial area of the city sits in a basin, hooped by a string of volcanoes to the west, El Panecillo—a small hill with a statue of the Virgin on top—to the south, and a ridge extending down from the mountains on the north. The streets are sloped at varying angles, laid out in a clean grid; wander around the neighborhood and you’ll see the same street names over and over and you wend back and forth—Sucre, Mejia, Guayaquil.
We plan out our trips, for the most part. We research in advance the places we don’t want to miss, including destinations for chocolate, beer, and coffee. But we do leave room for surprises. I’m glad we had time for this one.
After descending the dizzying spires of the Basícila del Voto Nacional, towering over the old city, we turned south on Calle Venezuela, heading back toward our hotel for a brief respite from the midday heat. Tucked into a small storefront with doors wide open to the world sat Kitu Chocolate. I’d never heard of it in my life, which is a pleasant experience for someone covering this industry.
We wandered in and were greeted immediately by a co-owner (I feel terrible, but I forgot to write down names while we were there, and can’t find them online), a kind and enthusiastic young man who smiled easily and walked us through a tasting of every bar in the house. His English was better than my Spanish, but that’s not saying much, and it took a lot of good intention and humor for all involved to work through the tasting. Some bars were familiar—classic darks of different percentages, inclusions like coconut or sea salt, all using Ecuadorian cacao—while some offered unexpected flavors—Togte, made with Ecuadorian walnut, or Ishpingo, made with an Andean spice sometimes called cinnamon flower (very similar to cinnamon, but not the same plant).
After tasting, we were handed off to the chocolate maker and other co-owner (again, did not get his name, regrettably), who walked through the basics of their process. This information was nothing new, but his clear pride in his business and in Ecuadorian chocolate, and his enthusiasm for talking about it, were contagious.
Kitu is a family business, only 6 months old. The toddler of the chocolate maker wandered around the small shop—which felt like a living room—while we talked, while his wife nursed a baby in the corner. The hum of a small refiner competed gently with the buzz of the street outside, both overwhelmed by the warm human chatter within.
We accepted a complementary bon bon at the end of our visit (mine was made with cacao liqueur, and was excellent), and purchased some bars to take home.
As I’ve looked back at the trip and its many amazing experiences, I’ve found myself thinking about Kitu more often than most. It’s exciting to discover places like this so passionate about what they’re doing, working day after day invisible to most of the world but showering hospitality and excitement on the folks who walk through their doors. I’m rooting for Kitu, and I’ll hopefully be covering them more soon.
