There is a knowledge that lives in certain foods. Not written down — felt. Passed through hands, through time, through people who knew how to listen to what they were making.

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Cacao is one of those foods.

I grew up in Colombia drinking chocolate. Not as a treat — as a daily ritual, a way of being together. Something in me always understood it that way — as nourishment that goes beyond the physical. Deeply sensorial, quietly spiritual, and at the same time completely simple and delicious.

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That same attunement to the body and its senses led me to dance and theatre, and eventually to a doctorate in felt experience. Different paths — the same enquiry.

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The cacao I use is Criollo, brought by me directly from Oaxaca, Mexico. I make it in front of you, slowly, the Colombian way — "batiendo con el molinillo", frothing with the traditional Latin whisk until the alchemy of cacao, heat and movement does what it has always done. It takes time. That is not incidental — it is the whole point.

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Criollo is unlike anything you may have tasted before. Its flavour doesn't stay at the front of the mouth — it travels. Down the throat, into the chest, until something quietly opens. That is not a metaphor. That is what this cacao does.

The star is the chocolate. I am just the person who knows how to introduce you to it.

Hot, iced, or with Mezcal. Come and rink it.