The Opinions - The Secrets of the World’s Favorite Smell
Episode Date: December 26, 2024The scent of vanilla is instantly recognizable — it’s also in danger of disappearing. In this ode to the vanilla bean, writer Aimee Nezhukumatathil explains why climate change might lead to the de...struction of the beloved plant.Thoughts? Email us at theopinions@nytimes.com. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.
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This is The Opinions, a show that brings you a mix of voices from New York Times opinion.
You've heard the news. Here's what to make of it.
I'm Amy Nizuco Motato. I'm a parent of two teen boys.
I'm a professor of English and creative writing at the University of Mississippi.
And I'm the author of two essay collections and four books of poetry.
I don't think you can be a parent at this point or just even someone who looks at the news
and not be worried about all these kinds of scary things that are going on in our environment.
But I find that when I am overwhelmed with the news,
I find that I do the most action when I hear about something that I love
or when I get inspired by hearing about what somebody else loves.
I find also that sharing what you love is contagious.
You realize, oh, without them, that would be a sad world.
And so I just thought, what would it, what would happen if we lost the world's favorite smell?
I just worry for the future of vanilla.
As a girl who moved around a lot when I was younger, my parents are immigrants, and my mother,
we had to move several times because of her job.
So I don't really have a sense of home the way my husband has a sense of home.
He lived in one state all his life.
vanilla for me is a grounding. It's a way to tether myself to a moment, a kitchen, to loved ones,
without ever leaving my house. Like to me, home is not a place, but it's a feeling. And vanilla is one of
those that I could be tethered to the people I love and to the feeling that I want to share with
everybody as well. So I'm not at all saying, we're going to cure the world by focusing on vanilla,
but I'm just saying we could start small by noticing what we love.
And so here's my essay on the importance of the vanilla bean.
From custard to candles, we live in a world suffused with vanilla,
and the plant that produces it is in danger.
Extracted from the bean pod of a delicate orchid,
vanilla must be grown under exceptionally precise conditions
along a very narrow band of the earth
between the tropics of cancer and Capricorn.
This supreme finikiness makes it unusually vulnerable
to the growing shocks of climate change and deforestation.
Most commercial production of vanilla is in Madagascar, Mexico, and Tahiti.
As the world warms, cyclones and storms in these regions
are growing stronger, toppling the orchid blossoms and vanilla beans
before they get a chance to fully mature.
In 2017, a Category 4 equivalent cyclone decimated and estimated 30% of the vanilla vines in Madagascar.
Those vines produced 80% of the vanilla used around the globe.
Afterward, the price of vanilla bean pods surged to nearly $300 a pound.
Most people I know who brewed in despair over climate change know that extreme weather could threaten crops.
like corn and coffee, but you probably haven't fathomed what it would be like to lose the scent
and the taste of real vanilla. To understand how much we could lose if real vanilla disappears,
you have to understand the history, some of it dark, of how it became a global commodity.
We wouldn't have vanilla ice cream, perfumes, or desserts without a 12-year-old named Edmund Albeus.
His mother died in the early 19th century on the island of Reunion, then called Bourbon, off the coast of Madagascar.
The man who enslaved him was a botanist who fussed and fumed over his vanilla orchids, which simply would not bloom.
Now historians don't know if the young Mr. Albus was ordered to find a solution, or if he came up with it on his own.
But in 1841, he developed the technique, flattening the anther sac and the stigma of the orchid blossom with his finger and thumb.
And that is still used today all over the world to pollinate vanilla orchids manually and produce large quantities of the extract.
The orchids bloom is brief.
Morning sees them unfurl and wide display, but by noon the flower closes, making the window.
for hand pollination very narrow.
Then, for each pollinated blossom,
it takes nearly a year to fully grow and dry the beans.
When the pod shrivel and become supple,
they turn a dark brown color
and then give off the rich aroma.
Farmers today grow about 4.5 million pounds
of dried vanilla beans annually,
but it takes about 300 hand-pollinated orchid blossoms
to produce just one pound.
So if wind and unusually heavy rains
knock these blooms off early,
farmers must start the whole lengthy years-long process from scratch.
They don't cultivate them indoors
because of the extremely high costs
of providing enough space, heat, indirect sunlight,
and humidity for the vines,
which grow draped on trees and shrubs
and extend to upward of 100 feet.
flourishing under the soft dappled light that pokes through a tree canopy.
Because the production of real vanilla is so labor-intensive,
scientists have experimented with creating substitutes.
But many of these substitutes are terrible for the environment,
creating large amounts of wastewater.
When I cook or make gifts for friends using vanilla beans,
my fingertips stay oiled with the scent of vanilla beans
and the tiniest whiff of orchids for days.
The scent creates a kind of nostalgia
of having sweets cooked up for me
at various family gatherings,
that my grandparents in India
and the Philippines have passed on
to my parents here in the States
and that I hope get carried on to my sons
living in North Mississippi.
It would be a pity
to lose these soothing, warm sensations
to something chemically made
and one-dimensional,
while the real,
real deal gets relegated to the memory bins of an older generation.
Mostly, I hope that we'll learn to recognize the value and the time it takes to grow a single
vanilla pod, especially in the tropical belt full of birdsong and bright-colored insects.
Under that colorful canopy of wild and audacious feather and carapace, the pale vanilla
orchid glows as if it were a sentinel.
a lighthouse offering us a gentle warning before it's too late.
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This show is produced by Derek Arthur, Sophia Alvarez Boyd, Bishaka, Fiby Lett, Christina Samuoski, and Jillian Weinberger.
It's edited by Kari Pitkin, Alison Bruzek, and Annie Rose Strasser.
Engineering, Mixing, and Original Music by Isaac Jones, Sonia
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