Vanilla: The New Trend Of The World

EAT

Originally discovered by the Totonacs of Mexico, vanilla has a history that’s as romantic as its homelands are exotic. Legend has it the plant from which it is cultivated first flowered on land where the blood of two ill-fated lovers was shed. When the Aztecs invaded, they claimed vanilla too, using it as a sweetener in their drinking chocolate – a tradition that reached Europe by way of the Spanish conquistadors. The drink was enjoyed exclusively by the noble classes until the mid-19th century when a group of French entrepreneurs transported the plant’s fruit from Mexico to Reunion, Mauritius, the Comoro Islands, Seychelles and Madagascar in the hope of establishing more plantations.

Today, three-quarters of the world’s vanilla comes from Madagascar and Reunion. The tropical vine on which vanilla grows can reach lengths of more than 100ft. It belongs to one of the oldest and largest groups of flowering plants, the orchid.

However, vanilla’s appeal is not in the glamour of its exotic flower – but in its fruit, once so prized it was worth its weight in silver. Vanilla farming is laborious; the flowers first need to be pollinated by hand, the fruit then harvested daily, also by hand, and carefully cured.

In spice terms, the final product is second only to saffron in value. In Madagascar men carrying the sticky pods to market have been killed for a few kilos of their crop. While in the USA and Europe, cured vanilla pods are sometimes so expensive that companies can’t afford to insure large volumes of the stock.

As an adjective, vanilla has come to mean bland. As a flavour, cloying chemical imitations so prevalent in commercial cakes have masked its true character. The real thing is anything but boring: subtly perfumed, delicate and rounded, its natural partners are most often sweet. A pod, split lengthways, will add intensity to most fruit – from roasted rhubarb to my own island favourite, grilled pineapple. But do not discount vanilla in savoury dishes.

Unsalted butter is the best carrier: mash the seeds into it first, then roll into a log and cool in the fridge. Melt a slab over the top of steamed white fish such as sea bass; it will bring out the sweetness of the flesh. Or sear duck breasts, set aside to rest and make a jus in the pan by adding red wine, a split pod, the zest of an orange and a spoon of honey, then reduce to half its volume. Beat in the vanilla butter until glossy and dribble over the duck. But as this month’s recipe attests, it most naturally belongs to puddings…

DRINK

This is not a time for beating around the bush. A fascinating partner for that vanilla cream is rum from the isle of Negros in the Philippines. Its fruity taste contains more than a hint of vanilla itself, so one is not just uniting two islands but two utterly compatible ingredients. Don Papa Small Batch Rum costs £33 at Majestic. Another idea is Gosling’s Black Seal Bermuda Black Rum. This costs £24 and is altogether drier, rummier, and more potent. But rum is a heavy spirit and you may prefer something less fiery. I suggest Sicily’s sublime contribution to sweet-wine culture: Marsala. The specimen I recommend Curatolo Marsala Superiore Dolce, which has a soothing raisiny quality with a hint of baked cream.

Utterly scrumptious with our pudding, either poured over it or drunk with it, this costs a ridiculously reasonable £11.29 (again at Waitrose).To my mind (and palate), it’s the greatest dessert-wine bargain on any UK shelf But what of dishes where that vanilla is sneaked into a sauce for white fish or in a similar role with meat? Restricted to an island for my source, I have no hesitation in homing in on Sicily yet again and choosing the wines of the Planeta Estate. These are available from the Great Western Wine Company of Wells Road in Bath.

For the fish, I suggest Planeta’s gorgeous Chardonnay 2014 which, by any standards, is a remarkably luxurious expression of this grape. More elegant, complex, and exciting than many a much-vaunted white burgundy, it costs £23.50.

Even without the stipulation that all these wines must be insular, I would unhesitatingly recommend this beautifully textured white wine. It has that rare quality: intensity with finesse.

For the duck breast, a red is required and we are going to be a mite extravagant. I am going to assume it will be served for a dinner party. The recommended wine, therefore, comes in a magnum (1.5 litres) and it is Planeta’s Santa Cecilia 2010, made from the Nero d’Avola grape indigenous to Sicily. This is a dark, brooding wine of autumnal leafiness and textured spiciness, yet with an ineffable sense of place. As it is an Italian red, it surely has some of Africa in it – warm, sunny, congenial, laidback, yet seriously provocative. At £60, this is a wonderful bottle for a dinner party. Indeed, placed in the middle of any dinner table, it makes a beautiful island by itself.