David Sprüngli, a robust man with calloused hands, always arrives at the bakery before dawn. There he finds his son, Rudolf. Together they prepare the pastries they will sell in the shop that day. He is sixty years old and it has been a long road to get where he is: orphaned at the age of eight, he worked as a baker's apprentice and ended up as a servant in a Zurich household. In 1836, he finally became the owner of his own establishment. Little by little, he was specializing in a product that was still almost a rarity: chocolate. It used to be sold melted, for drinking. But in 1838, he began producing it in a solid, compact, workable form. Seven years later, he had already opened another shop in the heart of the Swiss capital, on Paradeplatz, surrounded by a refined, bourgeois clientele.