Saving the Sicilian Black Bee

Xenia Lam, food enthusiast, writes about the man who helped save and protect the Sicilian Black Bee from the brink of extinction and facilitated one of Sicily’s most renowned Slow Food Presidiums.

As a child, I grew up reading and watching the various adventures of Winnie the Pooh by A.A. Milne and even today Pooh bear’s adventures continue to fascinate me. Recently, I came across a preview of a new Pooh story, called Winnie the Pooh and the Missing Bees which has been initiated by the British Beekeepers Association, where despite being a ‘bear of very little brain’ Winnie the Pooh understood that his treasured treat of honey was under threat by the continuing decline of the bees and something had to be done about it.

So, Pooh and Piglet decide to visit the honeybees after noticing a honey shortage in The Hundred Acre Wood. During one of their heart to heart conversations, Pooh says to Piglet “I have been very careful with it, Piglet, as there hasn’t been much honey lately. But you can only be careful for so long, before you run out altogether.”

Just like Pooh, there is a man who lives on the island of Sicily, who understood the importance of a special kind of bee native to his land and who was careful enough, so that the honey wouldn’t run out. I feel lucky to have experienced his story.

The Sicilian Black Bee

Sicily, one of the many places I was able to finally check off my list last year, is the gorgeous Mediterranean island just off the toe of the Italian ‘boot’. It was fascinating to see how history, nature and the mafia have learned to co-exist. Like the cornucopia, its flora and fauna endures the circle of life, from the robust olive to the docile Black Bee.

As legend has it, the Sicilian Black Bee inhabited the island for millenniums. But, since cane sugar was a preferred ingredient over honey in daily cooking, beekeeping ceased to become a large part of Sicilian traditional culture and very few families learnt the art of beekeeping and honey production. The introduction of large money guzzling cooperatives with their competitive pricing and fancy business strategies turned life into a persistent struggle for these artisans.

As time progressed, the beekeepers got rid of their traditional rectangular beehives made from dried fennel stalks and the 1970’s first experienced the import of the Italian Bee from northern Italy, driving them and their Sicilian Black Bees out of business.

The drive to the Apicoltura Amodeo Carlo https://www.amodeocarlo.com in northwestern Sicily seemed more picturesque than a postcard. Colours and shapes seemed to put the landscape into perfect perspective. The town, the coast and the mountains I saw it all, as the car climbed a rough and rugged path to the ‘house of honey’. The air grew colder as we climbed higher, but I didn’t mind I was just about to enter a new and different world.

Carlo’s story

Carlo Amodeo, the owner was introduced to me. A simple man with sparkling eyes, who by his efforts and enthusiasm helped save and protect the Sicilian Black Bee from the brink of extinction and facilitated one of Sicily’s most renowned Slow Food Presidiums. We started to chat (through a translator of course, as Carlo spoke only Italian) and I asked him to tell me his story.

“I always wanted to be a beekeeper,” he said looking down shyly and twiddling his thumbs, “there was this force, a force much greater than me that determined it. As a five-year-old child I remember going down to the beach one day with my mother and suddenly seeing a big black ball appear in the air made up of Sicilian Black Bees, at that very instant I remember wanting to build something that the bees would call home.”

Carlo went on to say that he started his work in 1980 with two hives when the Black Bee population had more or less become extinct. In collaboration with Sicilian Entomologist, Pietro Genduso, they introduced the Sicilian Black Bee to the Aeolian Islands, a volcanic archipelago north of Sicily. Here the bees could repopulate and re-establish their genetic lines, while Carlo and Genduso dreamt of someday bringing the bee back home to the mainland.

Re-population of the Black Bee was a task that had never been undertaken before. With the assistance of the Slow Food Foundation, the original territory of the Black Bee in the northwestern part of Sicily was successfully repopulated.  I was thoroughly impressed to learn that as of today Carlo heads the Presidium that consists of eight beekeepers, and he and his wife have 2600 hives on their estate, which churns out an assortment of organic mono-floral honey.

The flavours

As we walked to the tasting room, Carlo quickly educated me on the production process. “We harvest the honey on a weekly basis to prevent oxidation,” he said. I found myself quickly trying to come up with a mathematical calculation in my head as to how many weeks the entire process would take but I failed miserably as Carlo was onto the next step of production.

He went on to explain how the raw honey is collected and separated from the wax by the centrifuge and left to mature in stainless steel containers. In the end the honey is filtered, jarred and stored at a maximum of four degrees Celsius in order to preserve the nutrients and keep the flavour fresh.

The tasting room was tiny and smelled so sweet despite the chaos surrounding it. Its walls were white and covered with photographs and charts, a sloping wooden roof painted brown and two small windows high up through which the light filtered in.

There were huge cardboard boxes stacked with honey towards the rear end of the room and in the front a huge metal table with numerous drawers stood shining under the light of three suspended bulbs. Carlo slowly started taking out the bottles of honey; the final count was a whopping twenty-one. Who knew there could be so many flavours?

As children we knew honey to be honey – that syrupy golden liquid that made everything better! But now reality seemed to get the better of me -the colours, textures and flavours seemed uninhibited. Deep amber, orange, pale yellow, golden, brown – it felt like the perfect palette to paint a sunset. Carlo handed me a handful of fluorescent dipping sticks in order to taste the honey.

The flavours consisted of citrus, eucalyptus, thyme, thistle, anetto, sulla, chestnut, loquat the list is endless. Even the texture varied, some were smooth and syrupy, while others were crystallised and somewhat gritty. Every lick off the stick engulfed my mouth with a new an improved flavour ultimately persuading my tongue into a honey-induced stupor.

After almost an hour and a half my tour of this beautiful estate with this beautiful man had come to an end. His story was as simple as he was and his toothy smile had won my heart but I still had one question for him, “From where did all this passion and inspiration for bees and honey come from Carlo?” I asked, he smiled at me from ear to ear reminding me of his experience as a five-year old and said, “It was my dream.”