Oubaitori of Honey
Person: Do you have any ordinary honey?
Me: This is all ordinary honey
Person: No like, regular honey
Me: This is all regular honey
Person: Like unflavored honey
Me: No flavors have been added to any of this honey
Person: Well like, how do you add the avocado to the avocado honey then?
Me: Bees visit avocado trees sir ::smiling sweetly to disguise my heart that is black as coal::
It's always a shock to me, perhaps having slipped too deep into the honey to see how it looks from the outside, that people think there's a "normal" "plain" "unflavored" honey. One analogy I use to make the point is asking for "plain" honey is like going to a fruit stand and asking for "the regular fruit." The what? the seller would understandably exclaim. Honey is always something, and that something comes with a wide varieties of colors, flavors and other attributes.
It's strange really, in teaching marketing to beekeepers, I stress that more information conveys more value. Don't just slap "HONEY" on a label and call it a day. Few people do just that but many stop at adding the word "LOCAL" to honey and calling THAT a day. "Local honey!" But give that same honey a specific location, ideally in an evocative manner ("from the bluegum forests of the north Otways" "from the sugargum plantations of historic Mooleric homestead" (Mountain honey from Sanpiring Village, a proud result of my teaching (:) ) and identify as nearly as you can the predominant floral source (eg "coastal sage," "clover" "Califorina chaparral" ... or if you're in Australia maybe "red gum," "yellow gum" "salmon gum" "rainbow gum" (these are all real trees)), and the perceived value to the customer is significantly increased (especially if you also put it in a glass jar instead of a plastic one, congrats you've doubled its perceived value by now).
And yet, and yet. I regularly have customers coming in, when I've worked selling honey direct to customers, that seem to really really want "the normal honey." There's this desire to want whatever is just the default.
I think it might be a panic response to menu anxiety when presented with a panoply of options that overwhelms the ability to make a choice.
One thing I've found really helps people make a decision is a good description. Unfortunately, I feel a bit blind when it comes to this. During three years working for the last honey company I worked for I never did come up with any good ways to describe the honeys. They definitely taste different from one another but putting that into words is a very special skill.
I recently had the opportunity to take a honey sommelier workshop (picture above). With very careful guidance I was able to describe for example Jarrah honey as "smooth thick-viscuous orangey-amber slightly opaque, toffee flavour building to spicy aftertaste." That was my best one (and it helped that the sommelier-teacher spent the most time dwelling on it), my other descriptions were less involved, with blackbutt as "pinky-amber, finely opaque, cinnamon-rum-raisin flavor," wandoo as "hefeweizen pale yellow, extremely viscuous, bit of a warm grass smell, christmassy frosting lactic melon flavor" (!?) and marri as "yellow-sunrise-amber, flowy musky squeaky slightly licorice?" Are you slavering to try it yet?
I'm not actually sure I'll be able to effectively make use of that as translating my taste impressions to words doesn't seem to come naturally to me, but it was interesting and fun. What I've found DOES work for me is stealing other people's ideas. By which I mean, earlier I spent a summer selling honey at my friend's booth at the Orange County Fairgrounds in California. We had sixteen types of honey (the picture at top), offering everyone that came by taste tests of as many as they could stand until they were honeyed out. I found, if I _asked_ someone to describe the honey they were tasting they would tell me some generic cliche description, but if I just bided my time sooner or later someone would volunteer some absolutely enlightening revelation of a description of a honey. I would then taste the honey and to confirm the brilliance of the description. It was invariably simple, usually one word, not highfalutin and convoluted like the above Jarrah description, that would just strike right at the heart of the matter. When you repeated this one magic word to a customer the moment they put the spoon of the corresponding honey in their mouth, you would see enlightenment dawn upon them in an instant, and they would become very likely to exchange their filthy lucre for a jar of liquid enlightenment.
In this manner I gathered the following list:
The avocado, a dark rich molassesy honey, was by far the best seller.
My favorite was the cilantro honey, which mainly tastes like licorice for some reason but with a fore and after taste exactly like cilantro.
I also liked the blueberry, which actually tastes a bit of blueberry (and later at home confirmed it is delicious on pancakes),
and the California wildflower from Ventura county that tasted of cinnamon.
Other honeys we had tasted like oranges (NOT the honey from orange trees, which tastes kinda zesty but not like oranges - I no longer recall which one that wasn't oranges tasted like oranges),
What we, in California had labeled "eucalyptus," (which "eucalyptus?" I suppose "the regular one!") was definitely "butterscotch"
The meadowfoam flower definitely makes a distinct bubblegum flavored honey,
and this dark dark ("black as my heart!") buckwheat ("can I have the buckleberry" people would for some reason always ask) which tasted like soysauce.
The problem is, since I at least find it very tedious to try to come up with a good description on my own, and people don't blurt out enlightenment on cue, how does one get good descriptions? I thought I'd see if I could find them pre-existing on the great wide internets. Let us choose, for no particular reason at all at all, say, cherry, apricot, peach and plum.
The best peach honey description I can find is certainly flowery but manages to do that thing where it uses a lot of flowery words to say nothing particularly unique and distinct: "Delicate and Fruity: Peach flower honey is known for its gentle, sweet, and fruity flavor, similar to ripe peaches. It has a subtle flowery scent , which adds to its overall flavour. Smooth viscosity: This honey's smooth, viscous viscosity makes it simple to spread and combine into a variety of meals."
A whole webpage dedicated to cherry honey, and they have this description: "It tends to have a rather liquid consistency and a straw-yellow colour, but can vary from a light amber colour to a darker shade with reddish highlights. Crystallisation occurs slowly, changing its colour to a greyish-white shade. Taste reminiscent of cherry." Seemed promising in the color description but taste "reminiscent of cherry" sounds like a cop-out to me (and in my experience honey rarely tastes like the fruit associated with the flower except a vague aftertaste on the exhalation)
Plum honey has proved more illusive, it took me to the third page of google search results before I found a page that appeared to have a description of "apple-plum" honey and I guess that'll have to do: "The flavor of this honey is light and refreshing with a fruity aroma that is reminiscent of the blooming apple and plum orchards in spring. It has a light golden color and a smooth texture" - which, again, I really wonder if describing it as the fruit themselves is a potentially inaccurate cheat.
Apricot also took me to the third page (rife with apricot INFUSED honey which I'll get to in a moment), and even then the best I could find was "Very rare and unique honey variety with unforgettable taste and aroma.Taste: Medium sweet apricot taste with a long aromatic finish" ::eyeroll emoji:: But I thought I'd add one of my most successful meads has been an apricot mead (made with the fruit, and "regular" sugargum honey). But one thing that kind of mystifies me, is so I called my apricot mead "equinox mead" because I found myself making it on the day of the winter equinox and it seemed like a nice name. But in a stunning coincidence, one of the descriptions of apricot honey I just came across is "Hunza Delight collects Apricot Honey in the awakening early spring, from the mesmerizing equinox of apricot blossoms." Pure coincidence or are apricots somehow tied to the equinox in our subconscious for some reason?
One last subject on honey. This above picture. Makes me so mad. Infused honey is a thing. Thats the adding of flavors to honey, after the bees have finished with it. That's not illegal, and it can reportedly be quite good. But even when appropriately labeled as "infused honey" consumers tend to not notice that and end up thinking one or both of two things: (1) that this "orange" flavored honey is actually what honey from orange trees tastes like (sadly for this reason we often have to label genuine real honey from orange trees as "orange blossom" honey to make it clear its not orange-flavor-infused); and (2) they conclude that all honey has had flavors added and thus there must be some mythical bland base honey. And I say "appropriately labeled" but as you can see, the above pictured honey (which isn't from the wilds of the internet but a friend saw in person and sent me the picture because they knew it would make me mad) does not say "infused" on it anywhere, and the "made by bees" seal while cleverly not actually saying so, would seem to _imply_ it's genuine honey. If it weren't that I happen to know strawberry honey is NOT red like that and chocolate honey (which could I suppose theoretically exist, I've seen hives in chocolate plantations in Uganda) is also not brown and not likely to be found here where there are no chocolate plantations, one could easily naively think this must be as "real" as honey gets.
A more positive question I sometimes get asked by people daunted by honey selection is which is the "best" honey. This is a much better question, but of course it too is unanswerable without knowing their personal taste, but we can get there. Do you know if you prefer a sweeter or more savory honey? Lighter or thicker? Are you putting it on toast or in your tea?
So what's your favorite honey, and how well can you describe it?