Honey Sommelier: The Tasting of Honey - Honeybee: Lessons from an Accidental Beekeeper - page 114

CHAPTER 13
Honey Sommelier: The Tasting of Honey
What comes to mind when you think of the Amalfi coast? Sundrenched beaches? Glori-
ous gardens? Or apiaries, perhaps?
My appetite for adventure and passion for beekeeping began to take me on trips that
afforded me the chance to explore the local honey culture of places around the world.
Not long after becoming a beekeeper I traveled to Italy, where apiculture is a well-estab-
lished agricultural activity and a way of life. After a short car ride over the hills north
of the Amalfi coast, I arrived at the charming Bottega della Api, or the Little Bee Shop,
in Cava di Tirreni, Italy. Beekeepers Giovanni and Francesco run a small organic apiary
and small farm that includes more than three hundred hives. Neither of them speaks a
word of English.
I had e-mailed ahead of time in order to arrange for a honey tasting, but had not re-
ceived a response, so I arrived unannounced with the help of directions from a stranger
I met at a nearby café. I found Giovanni in the driveway, and I introduced myself in his
native tongue. When I told him I was a beekeeper, Giovanni broke into a warm smile. I
explained to him that I had e-mailed Francisco to say I would like to schedule a tasting
and that perhaps he was expecting me. I was invited to wait inside the honey shop while
Giovanni called Francesco on his mobile phone. Inside the shop were humble displays
ofaromatic beeswaxcandlesinallsortsofshapesandsizes,darkbottlesofpropolis,and
of course, a large selection of bottles and clay pots filled with honey from the apiary.
Each container was adorned with a simple grass tie and a handwritten tag. The clay pots
were all hand painted with pictures depicting the Amalfi coastline. I was familiar with
the chestnut, eucalyptus, and acacia varietals that were on display, but had not heard of
rosmarino and corbezzolo . “What could these be?” I wondered.
Francesco entered the shop with a warm buona sera . I apologized for not calling
ahead,andinatypicalMediterraneanfashion,hewelcomedmedespitemyunannounced
arrival. He escorted me into the tasting room to sample the many varieties of honey
they produced. The tasting room was a modest area inside a larger barnlike structure
that housed all types of industrial-looking extracting equipment, honey shallows, and
boxes full of freshly bottled honey. A stainless steel circular tank was full of dark, lus-
cious honey, and a spigot was turning out the freshly strained goods. The aroma was in-
toxicating, and Francesco told me what I smelled was the castagna, or chestnut honey.
Francescopassedmeaceramicjarofbrightlycolored,long-handledtastingspoons—the
same sort that are used for Italian gelato. We began with the honey lightest in color: aca-