Hoarding, Part 1: Honey…

Honey, we have a problem. Some—and when I say some, I mean my husband—might say I have issues. My real issue is that I don’t have enough pantry space to house my ‘collection’. What’s really wrong with having 24+ bottles and jars of honey, anyway? Each is unique in color and in flavor; would he be as critical if he amassed 24+ bottles of fine bourbon? I should think not… 

I wasn’t always such as avid collector. In fact, this sugar girl was never a big fan of honey; it had an odd taste I couldn’t get past. A decade ago, a free sample of local nectar from a farmer’s market changed my opinion of this alternative sweetener—forever. Not only did I taste one sample, but I tasted four: one for each season here in Florida. Amazingly, they each looked and tasted shockingly different; I was dumbfounded. The variations resulted from what was pollinated during each season: Fall and Winter were dark amber to brown with a more complex flavor; Spring, practically clear yellow and mild tasting; and summer, still light in color, but cloudier and a bit more flavorful than spring. If this is what a year in Florida tastes like through the ‘eyes’ of local bees, my curiosity was piqued about the varietals of honey around the country, let alone the world. What might those taste like?

Some buy shot glasses or keychains as memorabilia from their travels: I buy honey. The above picture contains bottles and jars from Tennessee, Hawaii, Pennsylvania, Delaware, New Jersey, South Carolina, Italy, North Carolina, Michigan, Quebec City, Georgia, California, Arizona, Minnesota, and Maine. Since we travel often, this is an ever-revolving collection; as I finish one, it is usually replaced by at least one more.

The most common varieties you will find are wildflower, orange blossom, acacia, and clover. Sometimes you will be lucky enough to find honey unique to specific areas: Tupelo from the Florida panhandle, Blueberry from Maine, Macadamia Nut from Hawaii, and South Jersey Pine Barren from, well, South New Jersey. I have honey from Quebec City that was harvested from the rooftop bees of the Chateau Frontenac Hotel. The Museum of Fine Arts in St. Petersburg currently has hives atop its roof and sells its honey in the gift shop—you can’t get any more local than 2 miles from home. Currently, my favorites are Tupelo, NJ Pine Barren and Black Mangrove from New Smyrna Beach, Florida.

More fantastic qualities of honey: it is antibacterial, antiviral, antifungal and it never spoils. Its high sugar content creates an inhospitable environment for bacteria and other microbes. Over time, honey may crystallize (see photo below), but if the jar is put into hot water, those crystals will melt and the honey returns to its liquid-y consistency. Extreme temperatures and water will affect its usually indeterminate shelf life, so keep honey at room temperature and don’t allow water to get inside of the jar. 

Be wary of honey found in a grocery store: many of the common brands are so over-processed—and may have had water, rice or corn syrup added—that they no longer taste like the raw product that you would find at farmer’s markets or natural stores. This explains why processed honey tastes so very different from specimens straight from the hive: 100% pure, raw and unrefined allows the natural subtleties and flavors to shine through. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the following disclaimer: as raw honey may contain botulism spores, honey should not be given to infants under the age of one year and anyone with a compromised immune system. 

Pure honey is pretty amazing stuff: it’s just as versatile as it is varied. I use it in baking, cooking, to sweeten my tea and it works wonders for a sore throat right off of the spoon. It’s one of the three key ingredients in my Winter Trinity Tea—a homeopathic drink that’s great when you’re feeling under the weather. Though I fought the urge to walk away that day at the market when the apiary owner offered me a sample of her bees’ wares, I’m so glad I gave honey another chance; I have come to appreciate its complexity and uniqueness, not to mention the awe-inspiring way it is made from nature’s essential workers just doing their thing.