In Sutton, in the Eastern Townships of Quebec, Jérémie Postel produces fir honey according to an ancestral Amerindian recipe that he has adapted to his taste. Since the dawn of mankind, the fir tree has been the apothecary friend who heals the aches and pains with its resin, needles and buds. With the complicity of this craftsman, it revives the memory and stimulates the joy of living.
Jérémie Postel, 33 years old, left the manicured bocages of his native Normandy to rub shoulders with the harshness of the North. First in an extreme winter rustic version deep in the woods of Lac-Saint-Jean, then a few years later, in the country woodlands of the Eastern Townships with his Quebec companion Mylène, a teacher and herbalist, and their three-year-old daughter Élowen.
You won’t find the secret of her fir honey recipe in this article. He answers any indiscreet question from the spy interviewer with a big smile.
Fir tree honey: the honey. Jérémie is not a beekeeper. Each to his own. He chooses his honey from a local artisan-apiculturist friend who shares his passion for healthy and simple products born from nature. Flower honey? Buckwheat? Of clover? Big smile. « It depends. I taste. I get carried away. »
Fir tree honey: the fir tree. Jeremiah is a woodcutter. He discovered his woods in the Sutton region, far from the asphalt and dusty roads, far from the chemical-filled crops. He tried spruce, hemlock, pine. His choice was the balsam fir, a wild cousin of the very popular Christmas tree. Do not pick from a plantation. The sought-after fir lives free in a mixed forest of conifers and deciduous trees. A tree in symbiosis or in competition with other species produces a stronger essential oil to ensure its vitality. It is also less exposed to parasites, insects and fungi.
Jeremiah picks the young sap-filled shoots at the end of the branches. In a flash, with your fingertips, without an aggressive instrument. The fir tree is a sensitive living being. The harvest is done at the beginning of June. This year, he only had two beautiful days to approach the trees, neither too dry nor too wet.
« The forest is like a cathedral, » he says. I fear for two seconds the profession of faith of a disciple transfigured by the cosmic energy of our Mother Earth. Not at all. Jérémie, also an outdoor guide, may have his head in the canopy, but he has both feet on the ground. In the forest, he lives in the moment. The meticulous and repetitive act of picking is a manual mantra that soothes and centers. A dreamy gatherer, he is part of the landscape, like the deer that grazes a little further away without worrying about him. « The forest asks nothing of you, only that you respect it. This is what he meant by « cathedral »: a majestic place, full of history, where one enters in all humility. This is what he meant by « cathedral »: a majestic place, full of history, where one enters in all humility.
After the harvest, the maceration. Patient time takes over from the great spaces.
From June to autumn, honey and fir shoots unite in an imperceptible alchemy. Improbable meeting of two materials that everything opposes. One is the refined sweetness, the ultimate creation of the perfect bee society. The other is the primary, acrid and tonic impulse of a rustic being who awakens. In this union, the human beekeeper and gatherer hardly intervenes, discreet, attentive and respectful conductor. Jérémie lets the time work, watches color and consistency, tastes, stirs if necessary. Every day, he makes his rounds. Now he sleeps better at night, thanks to the experience. At first, his nightmares as a wizard’s apprentice were filled with cauldrons overflowing with fermented potion.
Jérémie is a gourmet. First, concocted as a remedy for sore throats, his fir tree honey is also a delight for gourmets. Behind his stall in the region’s markets, he shares his recipes: a hint of honey at the end of cooking on barbecued lamb chops or pan-fried shrimp; a few drops on hot goat cheese on oven-roasted bread; a delicate signature to decorate the plate.
In conversation, he feeds off the anecdotes of his clients. Her honey, like a potion, brings back from their ancient memory evenings by the fire, undergrowth with the scent of resin, sweet childhood colds, grandmother’s remedies. He peddles these memories like a Native American storyteller. « My honey is a vehicle for encounters.
Her honey recently had a great encounter. On the way to the beautiful moments, he crossed paths with chocolate, another roadside worker of happiness that has been rolling its hump since the dawn of time. Monique Joly, a chocolatier, discovered her fir tree honey by chance in a gift. It continues its way in its collection, coated as a candy.