In Hawai‘i, American Farmers Believe They Do Cacao Better

On the rainy side of Hawai‘i Island, Daeus Bencomo steps through fresh mud in his cowboy boots, rows of leafy cacao trees on either side of him. He grips a bright orange pod and slices it neatly at the stem before bending a knee to cut the fruit open.

Daeus Bencomo. Photography by Megan Ulu-Lani Boyanton.

The pod’s dense and waxy exterior gives way to seeds coated in white pulp – sweet, bitter and nutty to the taste. They are destined for greatness in the form of chocolate bars, dried beans and tea at Lavaloha Chocolate Farm in Hilo.

“Bringing the Hawaiian cacao to light for the rest of the world – I really want to be at the forefront of that,” Lavaloha’s president Bencomo says.

Although most of the world’s chocolate is grown in West Africa, those sweet treats aren’t guilt-free: Industry problems include slavery, child labor, poverty among farmers and more. But in recent years, small-scale producers have raised the ethical bar, and a nascent sector has formed on Hawaiian soil under American labor standards. Here, growers are making fresh kokoleka, or chocolate in ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi (Hawaiian language), through mindful agricultural practices: creating their own soil and compost, contracting with locals, and using organic fertilizer.

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Spotlight on the students growing kalo in Hawai’i

“For all of us in Hawai‘i, it’s integrity,” says Puna Chocolate Company owner Adam Potter. “It’s gonna be Hawaiian grown, and it’s gonna be quality beans.”

Also operating on the island, Puna Chocolate Company works with independent farmers to grow cacao, which accounts for 40 percent of its cocoa bean production. One, who is based in Hakalau, identifies as Kanaka ʻŌiwi (Native Hawaiian). The other 60 percent is produced across seven farms – four owned and three managed by Puna Chocolate Co.

To Potter, his top-selling caramel macadamia turtles are worlds away from mass-produced chocolate by major global players, such as Hershey. Imported commodities take time to reach American consumers, Potter said, which can mean slightly-rancid cocoa butter and absent flavor profiles.

“Why Hawaiian (chocolate) tastes so different is that you’re in the U.S.,” says Potter. “You’re getting fresh, from-origin chocolate.”

He and his co-owner Benjamin Vanegtern opt against aging their beans, in order to transform them into chocolate more quickly.

“We’re probably the freshest chocolate bars you can get in the country,” Potter adds.

Still, he wants to keep prices low for the local market. In Kona, where most of the island’s resorts are located, tourists make up 80 percent of Puna Chocolate Co.’s market. But in Hilo, that percentage is flip-flopped, with residents accounting for 80 percent of business.

“We don’t need to charge that much because we do grow our own beans,” Potter says. “And we grow a lot.”

Since joining Lavaloha in 2019, Bencomo has spent most of his days farming on the property made up of almost 1,000 acres – 25 of which are dedicated to cacao. With around 10,000 trees, it’s Lavaloha’s main commodity.

From seed to orchard, the cacao growing process can take up to two years. Once the pods turn vibrant colors – orange, red, maroon and yellow – they’re ready to be harvested with clippers and sickles. Harvesting is done by hand because appropriate equipment isn’t available on the market. Each bean is hand sorted and graded, with the lowest turned to compost. Bencomo chooses to sort the old-fashioned way because optical sorting machines are expensive and primarily used for coffee beans.

Tourists are the largest market for Lavaloha’s products, but Bencomo would eventually like to serve as a bulk bean seller. He wants to start a collective system where he buys cacao from farmers for a fair price, then resells the beans to chocolate makers and confectioners.

He manages almost a dozen employees – around 25 percent of whom are Kānaka ʻŌiwi (Native Hawaiian). The Indigenous people of Hawai‘i are increasingly being priced out of the islands due to the tourism industry, the affordable housing crisis and the skyrocketing cost of living, but a viable job market can help them continue to live in the lands of their ancestors.

Bencomo took the reins of the business in 2022, and it’s grown steadily since then.

In Hawai‘i, “I definitely think it’s gonna be bigger,” he said. “Look out for Hawaiian cacao in the grocery stores in the next couple years, I hope.”

Across the island chain, on the east side of Kaua‘i, Will Lydgate is determined to elevate Hawai‘i’s reputation as a global leader in the chocolate industry. He estimates the state produces about 1/10,000th of the world’s cocoa supply.

“We’ll never compete on quantity, but we don’t want to,” says Lydgate, owner of Lydgate Farms. “We want to be the place where the best chocolate in the world is.”

And he believes that operating in the U.S. offers advantages beyond its agricultural resources.

Compared to other cacao-growing nations, “we also have better roads. We have FedEx,” says Lydgate. “We have scientists, universities, an electricity grid that doesn’t go on and off, stable currency – things that a lot of other tropical nations don’t have.”

But Hawaiian cacao farms do deal with their own local challenges, like high expenses and a dearth of affordable worker housing.

“In the Hawaiian islands, we’re completely separated from the global commodity cacao,” he says. “We do not touch it. It does not really influence us or change anything, other than the price of cocoa butter.”

Lydgate, his sister and his father started their foray into cacao after planting a small grove in 2002, although the family ties to Hawai‘i extend back to 1865 when Lydate’s great-great grandfather first immigrated to the then-monarchy.

Now, Lydgate Farms is made up of 46 acres, and its team of 30 includes about five people of Kānaka ʻŌiwi (Native Hawaiian) ancestry. The land gets between 50 to 70 inches of rain annually, which keeps its 3,200 thirsty cacao trees watered, and organic fertilizer is used to boost soil health. The farm relies on regenerative farming practices.

“If you’re buying from us, we’re the people that grew it,” Lydgate says. “There’s no step in between you and the farm.”

Author Megan Ulu-Lani Boyanton identifies as Kanaka ʻŌiwi (Native Hawaiian).

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