The Sweet Taste of an Italian Honey.
On a recent trip to Italy,
while exploring the small town of Abano Terme,
I spotted a sign for local honey, handwritten in German, taped to a store
window. Can you read it? I can’t either, but of course I had no trouble identifying the
honey pot picture! I know what that's all about, and I had to get me some.
Inside the shop I found an amazing selection of honey for sale, according to the literature (which I had translated from Italian) each product
was collected from a different floral source. And the prices was reasonable - four
euro each.
Single varietal honey is creating quite a buzz in the
gourmet food scene these days, but this trend is
nothing new to beekeepers. Honey
is a natural product that has always been highly 
dependent on the local
environment in which the bees gather their nectar. Much like wine regions and
coffee regions, different honey regions also exist.
For perhaps the first time in the history of commercial apiculture, beekeepers
are now being encouraged by food connoisseurs to situate their hives in areas
that will allow honey bees to frequent one particular plant. The hope is that
these insects will then produce a unique flavor that cannot be replicated
anywhere else in the world.
These three jars are apparently the most popular, or at least I think that's what the Italian shopkeeper was trying to tell me. The first one I recognize as Almond flower 
honey. Miele di Mandorlo is the nectar collected from Almond tree blossoms by honeybees right after they have been transported to the orchard for the express purpose of pollinating the almond groves. The honey collected here is a bi-product of the crop pollination.
The second jar is a complete mystery to me - Miele di Achillea Montana is without reference. You see in Italy there are some mountainous plants called Achillea ageratifolia, and Achillea chrysocoma and I've even come across Achillea umbellata. But I've never heard of Achillea Montana. I don't think such a plant exists - which makes me wonder just what the honey tastes like and where it came 
from?
Perhaps the local honey packer was referencing Amica montana which is a yellow flowering plant that grows wild in the Italian Alps. It's not known as a terrific honey plant though, which means it doesn't yield a lot of nectar.
The third bottle of honey is marked Miele di Rosamary and I'm sure you can guess the flowers from which it was collected. Rosemary honey is remarkable stuff - it tastes similar to the herb and immediately made want to eat a lamb chop!
Here in Southern Ontario, Canada, where I have a small apiary south of Peterborough, the first and most
opular single varietal flavor to be recognized by the public was
Buckwheat Honey, which is a really dark honey with a VERY distinctive taste and
aroma. Harvested in mid august, the buckwheat plant blossoms for about ten days
before going to seed in the fall. Unfortunately not many Canadian farmers grow
buckwheat anymore, and so this highly coveted product is becoming very rare
indeed. When my dad, brother and uncle spy a field of buckwheat that’s about to
bloom they quickly move a dozen hives as close as possible. Unlike wild flowers
that grow randomly in meadows and fence rows, farmer’s fields are the best
places to harvest single varietal honey crops. Here’s a huge concentrated
source, and to ensure purity my family will harvest it as soon as possible.
American Beekeepers are proud of their Pumpkin Blossom Honey
which is a dark amber-colored liquid with a robust aroma and flavor. And
California’s
Black Button Sage Honey is absolutely excellent when served with vanilla ice
cream. And of course the savannah region’s Tupelo Honey is probably the most
famous varietal honey of them all.
Harvested over two or three weeks in the early spring,
tupelo nectar is one of the rarest and most valuable liquid resources in the
world.
Honey has been eulogized in the scriptures of every major
religion since the dawn of time, but is the ‘food of the gods’ really that good
for you? Yes – in moderation. Natural honey is valued for its sweetness, but is
also chock full of unexpected goodness. Because it’s predigested by insects
many people who can’t stomach cane sugar can more easily metabolize honey and
enjoy its natural energy - so it’s almost the perfect food.
Back at my hotel in Abano Terme Italy, I spread the contents of this package on my rye bread toast. It tasted strange and had a wierd caramel after taste. As you can see this is not single variety honey, but an economical blend the packers call 'wild flowers'. No, I dont know where it comes from, you don't know either, and heck, I'll bet the packers don't even know where it comes from. It was whatever was cheapest at the time.
The golden age of honey has finally arrived, and North
American consumers owe it to their own taste buds to be more like the Europeans and ignore the crap found in
those square plastic tubs in the supermarket - try local honey and support a local
beekeeper in your 'honey region'.
Last week I tasted delicious vegetables picked fresh from my mother’s garden, and as I watched my parents tend their tiny crop I was struck by the enduring beauty of the scene. Here before me were two healthy senior citizens,
still madly in love, picking green beans together.
My parents have a small plot in the backyard where they grow produce to reduce their grocery bills.The 15x15 patch (it shrinks every year) is guarded by a solar powered electric fence to keep the rabbits away.
They grow beets and radishes, carrots? peas and beans, green onions
and lettuce. And Swiss chard. I actually didn't see any carrots. 
