Willy Wonka made his chocolate factory heavenly for children. So what's a real one like? Marie-Claire Digby visits Switzerland to find out
Choose an envelope . . . What have you won? A trip to a chocolate factory! It's not only Charlie Bucket, from Roald Dahl's classic children's story Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, who has this dream, and it's not only Charlie whose dream comes true. Charlie finds one of five elusive golden tickets, hidden in chocolate bars, to win a trip through the gates of Wonka's wonderful factory. My invitation came from Lindt, the Swiss chocolate maker, to visit its production facility on the shore of Lake Zurich.
The crazy world of Dahl's chocolate factory will be played out on cinema screens next month with the release of Tim Burton's film of the story, which stars Johnny Depp as Wonka. Dahl's fantastical factory, with its river of chocolate, has captured the imaginations of children everywhere since its publication, in 1964. How would a real chocolate factory compare?
The first of many surprises is that the factory is in an upmarket residential suburb, with breathtaking views across the lake, rather than in a drab, grey industrial estate. Lindt has been in Kilchberg since 1898, and the quaint, old-fashioned factory building is in the throes of a substantial facelift. But not even massive construction work can diminish the sweet, unmistakable smell of chocolate that hangs heavy in the air around the plant. "The smell changes, depending on what's being made that day. We can tell what's in production, just by the smell," says Sylvia Kälin, one of the staff.
The visit begins with a compulsory change into big white factory overalls, plus a hairnet-and-hat combo that owes more to Ena Sharples than Philip Treacy. Thorough hand washing and disinfecting are next, and all jewellery has to be removed. I wouldn't mind finding a diamond in my chocolate bar, but there's little chance of that happening, as, along with the no-jewellery rule, the chocolate goes through several metal-detection checks during production.
There is also a reminder that chocolate production is a highly competitive process, with some aspects of the process closely-guarded secrets, and new ranges kept under wraps during the research-and-development phase. "We will see a lot, but not all," Kälin warns.
As you'd expect, the factory is highly mechanised, but there is a surprisingly high level of human intervention. Some boxes are still packed by hand, by a mesmerisingly efficient row of women perched on stools, a view of Lake Zurich spread out in front of them - and a productivity monitor (reading 116 per cent as I watched) recording their output. "One hundred per cent is normal. If they pack quicker than that, they get a bonus," says our guide, Bernhard Winzeler.
Winzeler, who is as lean as a whippet despite being surrounded by chocolate all day, is deputy head of mass production, and a chocoholic who can't resist sampling the merchandise as we tour the entire factory, from pre-production, where the chocolate mass is blended and seasoned, to the conching rooms, where constant agitation, for up to 60 hours, transforms the brittle, grainy chocolate mass into smooth, melt-in-the-mouth liquid chocolate, and on to the moulding lines, where the bars, balls, pralines and fancy shapes, such as the famous golden bunny, are made.
The wrapping line is another blink-and-you'll-miss-it feat of engineering, with one machine wrapping 700 Lindor chocolate balls a minute while another foil-wraps, seals and paper-wraps 18,000 bars an hour. The noise is incredible, the smell intense; after a while the sight of so much chocolate, in so many guises, stirs up an adverse reaction: no more chocolate - please.
A glimpse of the luxurious gold-trimmed boxes, packed and awaiting delivery, restores our enthusiasm, however, and it comes as a surprise to learn that the ribbons on the fancy boxes are still tied by hand; the workers must each tie three or four a minute to keep their seats on the line. "For the first hour you're in a sweat, but then you can do it with your eyes closed, or at least look out to the lake," Winzeler says.
Twenty people work on the ribbon-tying line, mostly women - "they're faster at it than men" - and many nationalities are represented. "When National Geographic came to do some pictures, there were 19 nations represented, and none was Swiss," Winzeler says. This is indicative of the multicultural nature of the plant, where more than 50 nationalities are represented in the workforce.
The product range, too, has an international dimension, with different markets favouring certain types of chocolate and even packaging styles. "The more you go north and east in Europe, the stronger the demand for sweet, caramel tastes, while further south and west the preference is for a dark, bitter, strong cocoa taste," says Sylvia Kälin. In Italy the packaging has to be lavish and luxurious, to create the bella figura, while in sober, environmentally-friendly Switzerland customers don't want excessive packaging. And you though chocolate was the same the world over.