Why does honey from the tupelo-lined banks of the Apalachicola River have a kick of cinnamon unlike any other? Why is salmon from Alaska's Yukon River the richest in the world? Why does one underground cave in Greensboro, Vermont, produce many of the country's most intense cheeses? The answer is terroir (tare-WAHR), the "taste of place." Originally used by the French to describe the way local conditions such as soil and climate affect the flavor of a wine, terroir has been little understood (and often mispronounced) by Americans, until now. For those who have embraced the local food movement, "American Terroir" will share the best of America's bounty and explain why place matters. It will be the first guide to the "flavor landscapes" of some of our most iconic foods, including apples, honey, maple syrup, coffee, oysters, salmon, wild mushrooms, wine, cheese, and chocolate. With equally iconic recipes by the author and important local chefs, and a complete resource section for finding place-specific foods, "American Terroir" is the perfect companion for any self-respecting locavore.
Rowan Jacobsen is the James Beard Award-winning author of A Geography of Oysters: The Connoisseur’s Guide to Oyster Eating in North America, Fruitless Fall: The Collapse of the Honey Bee and the Coming Agricultural Crisis, and The Living Shore, about our ancient connection to estuaries and their potential to heal the oceans. He has written for the New York Times, Newsweek, Harper’s, Outside, Eating Well, Forbes, Popular Science, and others, and his work has been anthologized in The Best American Science and Nature Writing and Best Food Writing collections. Whether visiting endangered oystermen in Louisiana or cacao-gathering tribes in the Bolivian Amazon, his subject is how to maintain a sense of place in a world of increasing placelessness. His 2010 book, American Terroir, was named one of the Top Ten Books of the Year by Library Journal. His newest, Shadows on the Gulf: A Journey Through Our Last Great Wetland, was released in 2011. His Outside Magazine piece “Heart of Dark Chocolate” received the 2011 Lowell Thomas Award from the Society of American Travel Writers for best adventure story of the year. He is a 2012 Alicia Patterson Foundation fellow, writing about endangered diversity on the borderlands between India, Myanmar, and China.
This was OK. I like the concept, I like how the author writes, but this was not great, a little conceited, and with the obligatory filler pages of recipes. Interesting facts-- The United States was home to 14,000 apple varieties in the early 1900's as listed by the USDA and is now down to only about 100 different apple varieties-- 13,000+ apples victim to commercialization, loss of small family farms, and the whims of the public. However, the US is home to over 300 honey varieties, more than any other country-- we are known around the world for our honey, though we might not even know that ourselves. As the author recommends, I didn't read the whole book, just the chapters I was interested in. This means I skipped the Central American chapters.
For someone (me) who likes apples from the local orchard, keeps bees, and hunts for mushrooms and loves local cheeses, it was decent. I have quibbles with a few things he mentions: most local Vermonters I know personally like the dark thick grade B syrup, not the fancy light stuff, (c'mon, we want something that will blow our socks off, not some dainty Victorian syrup, but whatever, bro), and I'm sure this book will attract the typical foodie high-brow crowd ( the "oooh it was so life-changing oooh" types). However, kudos for helping advertise one of America's greatest assets, our land and what we can grow on it, something known to lots of us for a long time, but finally getting some national attention.
It will help you to know that "terroir" is basically "taste of place"--the unique qualities a place gives the food that grows up there. Sometimes it's mineral in the soil, sometimes it's the surrounding flora and fauna, sometimes we just don't know. But it's noticeable, and BEING noticed by more and more people these days. It used to be a wine thing, but has now expanded to a far greater gastric range.
I got sucked in immediately, and savored every single page of this engaging, tantalizing, magical menu of culinary adventures (yes, there are recipes included). I now know that my life will never be complete if I don't go try some high mountain maple syrup while standing in the steamy evaporation shack, sweating in my flannel shirt. Or squish through the strange Totten oyster farm in Puget Sound at 3 am, when the tide is low. Or tromp through the fields of Quebec for cattails that Francois des Bois (Francis of the Forest) will show me how to cook and eat. Really, pretty much visiting anyone that Jacobsen interviewed and worked with for this book would be a delight. I was ecstatic to realize that I have actually tasted Taza chocolate (we sell them at work), though I was thrown off my it's texture until I read their part in this book and now understand that what I was tasting was hundreds of years of history.
This is a fantastic read that will leave you drooling for the food and searching for anything and everything that Jacobsen has ever written (thankful, he does have other books). And, of course, wistfully scheming a way to visit those same places too. (sigh)
I picked this up because it was one of Library Journal's top ten books of 2010, and while I am not sure if I would make the same pick, it is pretty darn good. Jacobsen takes the wine concept of "terroir" and applies it to other food. Terroir is the idea of place imparting a distinctive flavor (and other food attributes, crunch maybe for apples) to wine or food, due to the mineral content of the soil, the growing conditions, climate, etc. So Jacobsen, somewhat like Michael Pollan in The Botany of Desire, explores specific foods in different chapters - he visits farms, wineries, the coffee trade ( ah ha, i feel backed up on my dislike of dark roasts!), maple sugar makers from Vermont, apple orchards in Washington, salmon from Alaska natives, honey - who knew there were so many distinctive flavors of honey in the US based on what the bees foraged on? - and more. He is young and engaging, nice writing, with enthusiasm that comes across well on the page. I would recommend the book to foodies, people who like to read about food, and anyone who wants a good nonfiction narrative kind of book.
Author Rowan Jacobsen takes us on a food journey starting in Vermont, telling of why the land is able to produce the finest maple syrup. In each chapter, he not only describes the product, but also tells why and how the land is able to produce such a food -- and why it is not duplicable to other areas.
For instance, coffee grown in Panama is so good because it is grown at such great heights, with the thin air making the beans denser, more refined with flavor. And the higher it's grown, the better. And since coffee trees can't survive at temperatures below 40 degrees, there's a limited space for them to grow. The tropics -- Panama included -- is one of those spaces.
The other chapters cover apples and cider from Yakima Valley in Washington state; honey varietals from New England, North Carolina and other coastal states; moules frites from Prince Edward Island; forest gastronomy from Quebec; oysters from Puget Sound; avocados from Mexico; salmon from Alaska; wines from California; cheese from Vermont; and chocolate from Mexico.
In the same genre as Raymond Sokolov's "Fading Feast," this book travels across America to find fascinating foods and people who find, grow, or produce them. I especially enjoyed the chapter on a restaurant in Quebec that forages all the food it serves its diners.
This is a good book with an awful cover that probably doomed it to poor sales. A strange format oriented around ordering ingredients via mail order distracts from the nuances of the unique edibles of the continent. Well worth a browse at the least.
Although sometimes Jacobsen's writing was a tad over-embellished for my liking, the book was a good read overall and I definitely learned some things. His likening of wines to strippers and/or farm girls however was really overwrought and slightly sexist...similarly, some of his metaphors just didn't cut it for me (Lovecraft & Vermont cheeses...hmmm...). I liked his dig at Pynchon at the end though and I met the forager Francois Brouillard discussed in his chapter on foraging/mushrooming which was really neat!
Overall: I liked the things I learned from this book. As someone who used to have to describe disparate flavors in craft beer for my job, I also thought Jacobsen's tasting notes were very thoughtful (great adjectives!) and his writing, while it sometimes missed the mark, did not fail to entertain.
I would recommend this book to anyone interested in specialty ingredients, cooking, and travel.
Another brilliant book by Jacobsen. What a talent he has for making a mundane topic come alive. His books are devoured by many in our home and we often give them away as Christmas gifts. Fun and informative. Thank you Melissa Wiley for the recommendation!
Most are familiar with the idea of terroir thru wine - grapes grown in different places make wine that tastes differently b/c of the environment in which the grapes were grown. Therefore, some wines are associated with the region in which it was made. This "taste of place" is what Jacobsen refers to when he sets out to uncover (North) American terroir thru exploration into Washington apples, Vermont maple syrup, Prince Edward Island mussels & fries, Panama coffee, Mexican avocados, California wine, Puget Sound oysters, and Alaskan river salmon (among other foods and drinks).
Overall American Terroir was a unique and entertaining, and reminded me a bit of The Botany of Desire: A Plant's-Eye View of the World, but more high level. There were certain sections I liked more than others (honey, oysters, and apples) but all of them were interesting, and I liked how Jacobsen weaved his own observations about the landscape and tastes, smells, textures of what he ate into the background, histories and passions of local farmers. While Jacobsen tried to come across as relatable in his food tastes, but there's a definite air of pretentiousness about his food writing. I found this more entertaining than annoying, but I can see how it might bother others. Overall, I would definitely recommend! This is probably something closer to 4.5/5 stars.
This breakdown of the book's content into 12 distinct exposes make this a piece that is easy to jump around sections, or pick up for a short while before putting down. It also means that none of the chapters are super in depth. However, you can tell where Jacobsen's interests lie as he does have full length pieces on some of these subjects:
Excellent writing that provides an illuminating look into the way food could and should be treated and how that contributes to taste, quality, culture, and enjoyment. I'm now even more interested in supporting and sampling local and quality foods and excited to forage, cook, and ferment more often. I most enjoyed the sections about maple syrup and apples, though we learn about coffee, chocolate, wine, cheese, avocados, wild edibles, and more, and get very intimate behind-the-scenes views of small companies and individuals that grow, process, and sell these local foods.
Interesting passages:
It turns out that, given a choice, people overwhelmingly go for the reddest apple. So growers kept selecting for the reddest. They were not, however, selecting for the tastiest. Eventually, Red Delicious apples eclipsed fire-engine red and reached a color imaginatively described by the industry as "midnight red." And most are virtually inedible, with dry flesh and thick skin. Good-tasting apples have small, tightly packed cells that break apart at first bite, spilling their juice in all directions. Red Delicious have cottony, dry cells with too much air in between.
...Not so long ago, three quarters of the apples grown in America were Red Delicious, which has been called "the best-selling and worst-tasting apple in America." -p69
Over the course of one highly caffeinated day, we tasted our way through some of Howell's favorites from across the Americas. It took some getting used to the roast. If you're used to dark roast or even medium, light roast can be virtually unrecognizable as coffee. Gone are the bitter, burnt notes of French roast, which is fine with me, but also missing are the toasty caramel, chocolate notes, and mouth-filling body I've always enjoyed in coffee. The problem seems to be that both drinks are called "coffee" when they taste virtually nothing alike. -p53
"...It's not candy; it's real food. It's got a texture to it. And I think that's hitting home."
And it worked on me. Like most people, my first bite of a grainy Taza chocolate bar caught me off guard. My initial thought was that something had gone wrong. But once I knew what to expect, I quickly came to anticipate it. It's great fun to crunch down on a square of choclate and roll it around in your mouth as the particles break apart and release their surprises. You can chew on Taza.
...To get the beans it needs, Taza instigated what it has coined "direct trade," which takes fair trade to the next level. Fair trade guarantees third world farmers a fair price for their crop, but it includes no incentive for quality. Taza pays a premium well above the fair-trade standard to ensure a rare level of hands-on care. Beans are fermented for a full week, to maximize aromatics and minimize bitterness, then dried in the shade for another week. The slow drying cycle allows more vinegar to evaporate from the beans before the outer shell encapsulates. And that's what allows Taza to process its beans so lightly.
...If you get used to premium chocolate, and then you go back and eat one of the mass-market chocolate products of your youth and really pay attention, you'll be shocked. None of the complex flavors created by the fermentation process are present. The flavors that are present are truly bizarre, a testament to the fact that almost anything can be made palatable if sufficiently sweetened. Hershey's, in particular, is famous for an odd sour quality that, I'm told, derives from the soured milk originally used. "Vomit" is how one expert describes it, though I more charitably think of it as chocolate yogurt.
This book discusses so many foods I love: maple syrup, coffee, chocolate, avocados, cheese, and more! That made it a real treat to read, and I now have a few "must visit" places on my travel list. The chapters on wine and oysters were not my favorite. It read as if the author's ego was getting in the way a bit too much there. Maybe because to write those chapters involved spending a lot of time in elite gourmet food circles where there is just a lot more money and (male) ego to go around, but I found myself thinking, "man, get over yourself" a lot more in those chapters. that said, the book was an enjoyable read overall. Now, back to my coffee. And later, a snack of apples and sharp cheddar (from Vermont of course).
Rowan Jacobsen’s passion for American products shines in this book, each chapter of which is devoted to a different product – apples, chocolate, maple syrup, and more – and the artisans bringing out its best. From the time-tested respect that makes Alaska’s Yukon River salmon so rich to the reasons why Puget Sound oysters are the very best in the world, this book is a love letter to the very best food America has to offer.
Perfectly functional, colorful, occasionally strangely overstretching a metaphor or two in its exploration of unique place-based foods. This one could have easily slid onto your keeper shelf next to Omnivore's Dilemma were it not for the corny-af cover. Read it as an ebook and you dodge both this hurdle and the fact that most of the suggested follow-up reading comes in the form of TYPED URLS.
A luscious read detailing different foods - from avocadoes to oysters to foraged foods to maple syrup - that reveal the terroir of where they are grown. Recipes are included that showcase the flavor of each, as well as fascinating tidbits of information. I had no idea for instance, how manipulated most wine is.
For foodies and lovers of history, THIS is the book for you! I have become a big fan of Rowan Jacobsen's work, particularly through his book about apples. American Terroir takes a deep and fascinating dive into the history of beloved foods, including cider, chocolate, coffee, honey and more—bonus!....recipes at the end of each chapter. Treat yourself to this one for sure.
A great read for people who appreciate a good meal and like to learn about the nuts and bolts of cuisine. In other words, food nerds. Like me. I listened on audible, which tended to cause me to arrive at work ravenous, but that’s to be expected.
I learned so much! This was a lovely travel-history-chemistry-anthropology cook book. A splendid read. So glad we attended Jacobsen’s talk on truffles in Oregon. I look forward to reading other books by him.
I LOVED this book, and I feel like I'm always talking about it to people. I just find it so interesting how the conditions a plant grows in can affect the flavor of the food it makes so much. I especially loved the chapters on chocolate and coffee because it talked about how most of the chocolate and coffee that we're buying are actually quite poor quality.
American Terroir is a charming book that addresses how soil and climate conditions affect the way different foods grow and taste. It is a nice, easy, and informative read that made me want to travel and eat…a lot.
It includes a number of recipes, all of which look delicious. I made the maple cranberries and maple-caramelized apples. They were both pretty tasty and easy to make. I’m looking forward to trying the other recipes.
The book also includes a nice handful of resources and contacts at the end of each chapter.
I give this book three stars for a couple of reasons. First, the title of the book isn’t quite fitting. North American Terroir would have been more appropriate since I initially assumed the book was going to be about the terroir of the United States. The author crosses borders in five of the twelve chapters to discuss coffee from Panama, chocolate and avocados from Mexico, moules frites from Prince Edward Island, and general forest gastronomy from Quebec. Second, the selection of foods the author addresses appears random. I am not sure if the author chose these particular foods because he likes them best or if they have some particular importance in the larger food world. It seems to me though, that if moules frites is only worthy of five pages of text, perhaps it isn’t necessary to include in a book like this. The forest gastronomy chapter as well, while fascinating in its own right, does not seem fitting. It didn’t seem to be about any specific food or even the terroir that the book claims to be about (what makes the forest plants of Quebec so special?).
What I would have liked to have seen from Rowan Jacobsen is a book that specifically addresses the terroir of the United States (there must be enough to fill a whole book) since we are not nearly as well versed in the uniqueness of our own food as other countries are.
I do hope though, that he will write a book solely on forest gastronomy because that was a very interesting chapter to read.
Note: I received this book for free through Goodreads First Reads.
This book by Rowan Jacobsen explains in great detail about the term Terroir: a French term usually associated with wine is about, in Jacobson’s words “the taste of place.”
You read about the history, science and culture in an entertaining way. It is succinct and imparts the information of how and why some foods taste the way do but it’s not overly scientific.
Almost all chapters of this book are devoted to specific foods in specific regions (terrior) for example maple syrup in Vermont, varietal honeys in Apalachicola area (special to me because I live in the area), Totten Inlet oysters from Washington, wines in California and many other specialties. There are color photos midway through the book – I love the one of the Florida bee swarm.
My only complaint would be that the book does not have an index. It sure is nice to go back and find a particular item and as a result, my book is littered with tiny slices of paper so bookmark my favorite spots.
Included in the chapters Jacobsen adds a recipe, highlighting the star of the chapter. I have prepared several. Here is one, the Maple Carmelized Apples.
Please Note: Recipe is from American Terroir by Rowan Jacobsen
Maple-Caramelized Apples Serves 4
Ingredients........
4 TB butter ¼ cup maple syrup 6 apples, peeled, cored and sliced ½ teaspoon cinnamon Pinch of grated nutmeg Zest and juice from 1/8 lemon
Heat butter and maple syrup in skillet over medium heat until bubbling.
Add apples and cinnamon, toss to coat in butter-syrup mixture and cook, stirring and turning apples occasionally, until they are browned and soft but not mushy. This should take 6 to 8 minutes.
Turn off heat and add nutmeg, lemon zest and juice – stir. Let the dish cool enough so the sauce thickens,
NOTE: Use a firm and tart variety of apple such as Honeycrisp, Jonagold, McIntosh or Granny Smith,
You could serve this with a scoop of vanilla ice cream or to fancy it up, bake it in puff pastry.
I want to go to Montreal. Specifically, I want to go to http://www.jardinssauvages.com/?nom=m... . The book talks of terroir, but it isn't talking just wine, but a wide variety of tastes of place. The foraged foods of Quebec specifically called me, but the romance of Prince Edward Islands potatoes and mussels has a pull, the cheeses inspired by fungi of Vermont caves, apples pressed in illegal cider mills and a sudden need to taste all the colors of maple syrups has taken up a place in my hindbrain. This is a look at the variety in some of our favorite foods - and it is relentlessly encouraging of tasting more and better. While at times Rowan Jacobsen will call something the best salmon, or describe a specifically delicious variety of honey, generally this inspired me to explore what's best around me. The flavor differences from one spot to another, the natural differences from season to season, regional food specialties are all registering higher on my radar now that I've finished this book. It's not really an exploration of terroir across America although some sections are a little closer - but this book is too diverse for that. When Jacobsen briefly addresses wine from Vermont vs Missouri vs California vs Washington, he is much more educational about the winemaking process. His mussels discussion is really just about PEI. The oysters discussion probably comes closest to truly capturing the concepts of comparative terroir, but don't expect this book to tell you just which bays and which states have what flavor differences. American Terroir mentions only a few bays with true descriptions - but now when I go to an oyster bar, or on a coastal road trip, I'm going to pay a new kind of attention to what I'm eating and where it came from.
Side note: I'm willing - no, happy - to admit that a lot of food writing is excessive and sanctimonious. Writing about local food can be even more insufferable. A book about great American foods, then, has the potential to be unbearably smug. This was not that book.
Another side note: while Shane was happy to give me this book for Christmas, he takes issue with the concept of terroir - specifically that place and context can play such an important role in the characteristics or quality of specific foods. This book, and our discussions of it, changed both of our minds.
In 200-or-so enjoyable pages, Rowan Jacobsen explores why and how specific foods are so uniquely American. It's not quite as simple as you'd think.
Take the Yukon River salmon. The size and quality of the meat will vary depending on where it is caught in its journey upriver. At the mouth of the Yukon, the fish is outrageously fat, having stored all the energy it needs to make the difficult trip. Closer to the spawning grounds, the fish will have expended all of that energy, so the muscles will be lean and strong. Worn out fish might not be good eating, but they may provide amazing caviar. The quality and quantity will also depend on the state of the Bering Strait, where environmental changes can affect the food supply.
And on we go, learning about how mother nature, natural selection, and human intervention have produced Michoacán avocados, PEI mussels and potatoes, and Jasper Hill Winnemere, which I can't wait to try. Each food has an interesting, well-written, and occasionally drool-inducing story. Overall, the book is less about eating local than it is about celebrating the ways that man and nature have cooperated to create amazing foods. I would highly recommend it for anyone who enjoys food writing and enjoys knowing about both the process and the end product.
It's a neat concept - a book focusing on the terroir (region-specific flavors) of America. I'm fascinated by this core conceit, that certain regions can produce certain flavors due to the nature of the soil, the sun, the seasons, the elevation, and every other variable that is irreproducable in a lab. It's sad that our centralized, homogenized food system has whittled our options down to familiar, typically un-complex fruits and vegetables (when is the last time you've seen more than one variety of peach at a grocery store?)
Naturally, I'm very excited by this topic and, as a scientist, I love how the author describes the chemistry behind several of the processes involved. He stresses that high altitudes and non-ideal soil force the plant to change how its fruit is formed - essentially, you change the stimulus, you get a different response. This is fascinating, and I love anything that encourages more variety in our food supply.
However, reading the book was a colossal disappointment because the author chose to highlight artisan foods. Maple syrup, select coffee, cider, honey, mussels, forest gastronomy, oysters, avocadoes, salmon, wine, cheese, and chocolate are all featured, and while not all are inherently unattainable, he did seem to focus on those that are made in small batches and are otherwise expensive or exclusive.
So, while I learned a lot from this book (there are different varieties and flavors of honey! Dark chocolate is a far cry from "pure" chocolate!), I was left with a feeling that the only way to food authenticity was dropping $40 on some farmer's online store. I would have much preferred a book dedicated to the millions of varieties of fruits and vegetables available at one's farmer's market. Maybe it's not as thrilling as farm-raised oysters, but it's something normal human beings can buy.