Some time ago, I took a boat ride on Seneca Lake. Leaving from Watkins Glen, one of the topics of the ramblings of the tour guide was this: salt. He offered historical information on salt in the region, with an eye particularly on the ways salt mining was a critical part of local history. We, for example, slowly passed former salt factory and he described the many many ways that salt had affected people's lives.
Probably a related local history explains why Syracuse is the Salt City. And, perhaps, the reason for that monstrosity - salt potatoes. (Ok, I actually like them sometimes.) For more on the history of Syracuse salt, click here.
In any case, the tour guide's wisdom - and his stories - stuck with me in no small measure because I actually find salt interesting. In some ways, all salt is alike, right? And yet, we see black and pink, fine and crystals that are larger, salt lamps and salt shakers. I have a vague memory of passing by some shallow ponds in Anguilla and knowing they were drying to produce salt. I have tasted the saltiness of Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, sometimes on purpose and all too often accidentally. And, of course, I have read Mark Kurlansky's book Salt: A World History and reviewed it on Cooking with Ideas. (See here for a bit on Kurlansky and a way to wander through this blog in search of my other comments on his work.)
Salt.
Some time in the past few decades, I became aware of salt snobbery as well. High end salt at first meant any salt other than "when it rains it pours" Morton Salt with the legendary little girl and umbrella. Often it meant sea salt and/or kosher salt. Then there were occasions of Himalayan pink salt or Hawaiian black salt. There were special salts for this and that. And, there is/was Maldon salt flakes (discussed, for example, here). Locally, in upstate New York, there is a salt company run by an acquaintance and his daughter, Syracuse Salt Company and one comes across their products here and there and then again over there. They describe themselves as curating and their product as hand-finished sea salt. Hmmm.
But, I digress. The topic for today is actually a different one - though a related one: a book entitled The Fleur de Sel Murders by Jean-Luc Bannalec. The book was translated by Sorcha McDonagh (and kudos for that). And no, it was not written in French; Bannalec is a pseudonym and the original of the series featuring a chap named Dupin who appears in this novel, was written in German.
Dupin is the reason I loved this novel, to be honest. He is an oddball - and yet not set up as eccentric for eccentricity's sake. He is thoughtful and baffled and learning - one can see him learn as the novel goes along, an almost visceral learning. And, his colleague (a woman) simply does not take to him - and he simply does not understand her. Baffled is a sort of kid way of describing it.
A second reason is the lore and more about the old salt fields. I love it that the odor they give off is thought to cause hallucinations - and that various folks are unsure if that is happening to them. I love the ways new and old are interwoven, with historic traditions bumping up against new fangled possibilities to sustain salt farming. (There are echoes of the ways that the EU has tried to (on the one hand) sustain historic meanings for terms like champagne or parmesan and yet (on the other hand) infringed.)
Finally, there is the art - and science - of salt farming. As always, to seems to me, both are relevant. And, here, both contribute to both creating and solving mysteries.
This is one of the best mysteries I have read in a while. It meets my needs: good writing, fascinating subplots about the history and production of salt (in Brittany), characters who pop in both professional pairings where people bring different skills and backgrounds to the table and in other cases, personal relationships. This is not what I often call a peanut book - a quick read that slides into your head and right out the other way as you read. This is a worthy puzzle and much much more. I recommend it.
And no, despite the tour guide in Watkins Glen, not all salt is alike. Salt brings more than NaCl. It brings various other minerals, and perhaps the terroir of salt, distinct in every bit. And, as importantly, salt brings stories.
For another review, click here.
