Sourcing Vanilla: A Trip Report

Food has the ability to tie people together no matter their race, culture, politics, religion, or other propensities. Food is the life-giving sustenance that ties us together. What we eat speaks not only to who we are as people but even to how we value life itself. It takes just a few minutes more to make a good meal rather than a bad one. But those minutes are telling. Do we eat instant macaroni and cheese out of expediency? To simply carry us to the next meal? Or do we slow down and create a meal that we relish through sight, smell, and taste? Are we willing to spend an entire day creating a culinary masterpiece that will be remembered? The universality of food to speak to us ties people together across boundaries of all kinds.

As much as we can, we try to source all our ingredients directly from the farmer and producer. We value the relationships we develop as we acquire our ingredients. Good working relationships and lifelong friendships develop. Through our pursuit to create the perfect chocolate, we meet those in other areas who also are striving to be the very best.

One of the more minor ingredients used in the making of chocolate is vanilla, used in very small amounts to round out and enhance the naturally occurring flavors in chocolate much in the same way salt is used to enhance the flavors found in a perfectly cooked filet mignon. Its use in chocolate traces way back to at least the time of the ancient Maya.

Most manufacturers of chocolate use vanillin (not to be confused with vanilla ), an artificial flavoring known to some as 4-hydroxy-3-methoxybenzaldehyde. It used to be created from wood pulp but today is made from Guaiacum trees or wood creosote. It is the chemical basis for the vanilla flavor found in vanilla beans. It does not have nearly the flavor complexity of natural vanilla but it is inexpensive, and that is why virtually every major manufacturer of chocolate uses vanillin instead of natural vanilla. When artificial vanilla is used, its selection has historically been based on price -- after all, vanilla is one of the world's most expensive spices -- second only to saffron.

In the world of vanilla, one place is spoken of in hushed reverence: Tahiti. Tahiti is the source of some of the world's finest vanilla and some of the world's most expensive. It is also the source of the vanilla we use for much of our chocolate. In keeping with our goal to work directly with the growers, I packed up my things and booked a flight on Air Tahiti Nui. I spent time with each of my children, gave my wife a hug goodbye, and caught an afternoon commuter shuttle from Salt Lake City to Los Angeles. My flight was to leave from Los Angeles at 11:30 p.m.

The flight from Salt Lake City to LA was uneventful, and I was able to catch up on some reading. I was right in the middle of a thousand-page book and my reading list was getting longer and longer as I moved through it. When the flight was over and we were just beginning to depart from the plane, a girl in the row behind me asked about my trip to Tahiti. I was shocked. How did she know? I didn't remember saying anything to the people in my row -- we had each read through the trip. As it turns out, she heard me when I checked in and was the wife of the son of the founder of the Miranda corporation. She was traveling with her husband and his family (sisters, etc.) to Bora Bora, where his family was from, for a family reunion. As luck would have it, we were all booked for the same Air Tahiti flight.

As a side note, Miranda is a multi-level sales company that popularized the sale of Tahitian Noni as a health-food drink. Today, noni is grown throughout the tropics, but it started in Tahiti, and as far as much of the world is concerned, it started with Miranda, who holds exclusive export rights to Noni from Tahiti. As we made our way to the other terminal. l was able to get the "inside scoop" on the Tahitian Noni story, something I had wondered about for some time.

The flight from Los Angeles was excellent. The chocolate business requires a lot of travel all over the world, and I have flown many airlines. Air Tahiti Nui is perhaps the most polished airline I have flown. The flight attendants were very polite and the attention to detail was outstanding -- even for those of us in coach. We arrived in Papeete at around 4:00 a.m. Papeete is the main airport in Tahiti, and from there you can catch flights to the surrounding islands.

My flight from Papeete to the island of Raiatea left at around 6:30 a.m. -- just before sunrise. Raiatea is the island where most of Tahiti's vanilla is produced. There are many growers on the island of Tahaa. But in the end, most of the vanilla from Tahaa comes to Raiatea for curing and export. As we taxied down the runway, the sky started to lighten, and a mountain range could be seen in the distance. Upon takeoff, however, I found that the mountains were part of another island in the distance. As we reached cruising altitude, the morning sun lit up the clouds as if they were on fire.

Flying in the morning light over the outer reef that surrounds Tahaa

As we flew past Bora Bora, I could not help but think that not too many decades ago, these same skies were full of Japanese Zeros as they fought the Americans for these specks of dust in the far reaches of the Pacific Ocean. As we approached Raiatea, you could see the waves breaking upon the reaches of the outer reef and the almost fluorescent bright-blue inner reef. The plane dropped and dropped as I watched the island, and soon we were just over the water, even though the island was still a mile or two distant. Then without warning, we were on the runway, the wind buffeting the wings as we slowed. I quickly realized that the island that I and others on the plane were watching was Tahaa, the sister island to Raiatea.

My host soon greeted me at the airport. She hung around my neck a beautiful flower lei she herself had strung from flowers from her yard. The intoxicating smell reminded me of plumaria found so frequently in Hawai'i. We drove to her house along the winding coastal road. The road was lined with multicolored croatin and bulganvilia, and flowers everywhere created an incredible rainbow of colors. We arrived at her house, which is right on the shoreline of a small bay no more than 20 feet from the water. We unloaded my gear and set off for a quick tour of the island.

Raiatea is very small. You can drive around it in as little as two hours and twenty minutes. There are two roads: one circles one-half of the island and the other the other half, in a figure eight fashion.

Idol and offerings at Marae Taputapuatea

One of the most important stops was at the Marae Taputapuatea, one of the most sacred sites in all of Polynesia. Polynesians from all over the South Pacific and neighboring countries (such as Argentina) visit and leave stone carvings, flowers, and other offerings. They say you can come to Raiatea but you have never actually arrived until you visit the Marae on the east side of the island. It should be noted that historically, it was once used for human sacrifice. When professors from the University of Hawai'i did an archeological study of the area, they found human bone fragments, which testified to the area’s grisly history. I could not help but be grateful that today, I could simply visit such a site without becoming part of it.

One of the largest names in the Tahitian vanilla industry is that of Jean Chan. Jean's grandfather, who left China to look for work in Australia. From there, he moved to Tahiti and started a small grocery store in Uturoa, the main town of Raiatea. He called for her father and mother to move from China to work in his store. From the age of three years, Jean worked in the store with her parents. She helped her mother pick the stems off of the beans and then sorted and graded them. Her grandfather and father taught her the ins and outs of the vanilla business so that when the day came for her to take over, she would have valuable skills that would carry her throughout her life.

Today, the store her grandfather had once started no longer carries the wide variety of groceries and other household items but now sells vanilla exclusively, and Jean Chan has built within the vanilla industry a name like no other. She has become a powerhouse in the vanilla industry and is well known as one of the best vanilla curers throughout the islands. A large percentage of the vanilla throughout the Tahitian islands comes to her small, unobtrusive store in Uturoa for curing.

This small and unobtrusive store is one of the powerhouses in the world of quality vanilla.

Jean Chan's store is one of the oldest in all of Uturoa and perhaps the most unobtrusive. I watched many tourists walk by her little store totally unaware that this store is legend throughout the vanilla industry. Her store has escaped unscathed from the recent renovations up and down the waterfront that have torn down the old buildings and replaced them with new ones. The store has no windows, and when it is open, so is her door, allowing the smell of vanilla to waft through the air. The intoxicating smell invites traders of vanilla and tourists alike to step into her hallowed chamber.

When I met Jean Chan, I was impressed by her soft and gentle demeanor. Now quite elderly, she speaks with a very soft and kind voice. Her English is quite good, though she hides it and prefers that visitors use a translator, if one is available. We sat around the table in her store as she talked about her family and childhood, and what it was like to grow up around vanilla.

The Vanilla Queen Jeanne Chan curing vanilla behind her shop

Before I left, I gave her a sample of our chocolate we had made using her beans. Thrilled, she quickly scurried off to put it in a cool place for safekeeping. When she returned, she showed me other products that people had given to her that were made with her vanilla. There were the usual, such as soaps, creams, and flavorings, as well as the unusual, such as Canadian maple syrup with a whole vanilla bean in it. She is clearly very excited to see what people make with the vanilla she cures at her little store.

A Tahitian girl sorting vanilla beans behind Jeanne Chan's vanilla shop.

It was getting towards the end of the day, so we negotiated the price for high-quality vanilla beans she had cured. All her transactions are handled in cash, so I had to go to the local bank. We set up a time for me to come back and visit her again.

On my return, Jeanne appeared very excited. She beckoned for me to sit down and asked me to wait "five minutes." She quickly disappeared into the back of her store with her cell phone. Retuning, she said again, "five minutes." About five minutes later, a man came through the door. At first, I thought she had arranged for him to translate, since this time, I had come alone. Instead, I learned that he was a writer for the local paper. and he wanted to write an article about our chocolate.

The next half hour or so, we talked and shared our stories in Jeanne's little shop. We took turns taking pictures, and I was told that the article would appear in the paper before I returned to the United States. On this visit, I had made sure to stop at the bank on the way, so I made sure that before I left, I picked up the agreed on vanilla at the price we had previously negotiated.

Art Pollard and Jeanne Chan, the Queen of Vanilla in Tahiti

When I left her shop, I could not help but think how my little bundle was like a small bundle of black gold. My little package, though not very large, was very expensive. I thought about how I would be using it for our chocolate, and perhaps I might take a few beans home to make a Tahitian vanilla bean crème brulé.

A vanilla-buying trip to Tahiti would fall short if a trip were not made to Le Vanillare, one of the newest vanilla plantations in Tahiti. Even so, it is receiving lots of attention for its fine-quality vanilla. In 2007, the plantation won the Medaille d'Or at the Agriculture Show in Paris for its vanilla. It has also been featured in numerous articles and television shows (such as The Food Hunter). I had been hearing about the plantation for quite some time, so getting to go there was a real treat.

Lone sign on the coastal road in front of Le Vanillare

Le Vanillare is unique in Tahiti. It not only grows its own vanilla but the product is cured there as well, something only a very small number of vanilla producers do. (Most grow their vanilla, then turn it over to a master curer, such as Jeanne Chan, for the curing of the vanilla.) In addition, Le Vanillare has wonderful new greenhouses with modern irrigation and a host of vanilla-related products. Its two proprietors, Yannick Wong and Alain Abel, now have the most modern vanilla plantation in Tahiti, and it is on the "must see" list for visitors to Raiatea, where tours are offered to the public as time allows.

Le Vanillare is found at the top of a small, almost hidden valley. It is marked only by a small roadside sign, and if you are not paying attention, you can easily miss it. The view from the Le Vanillare is incredible -- the green volcanic mountains hem you in with a silence you almost can hear. When I arrived, Yannick came out to greet me. We had exchanged e-mails off and on for several years, and so it was nice to finally put a face to an email address. We chatted for a few minutes, and then he took me to their greenhouse so that I could see all they have done. Almost all vanilla grown around Raiatea and on Tahaa is grown outdoors using native plants such as tapioca or local trees to provide the structure for the vines to climb. Le Vanillare was one of the first vanilla plantations (if not the first) to use green houses to grow their vanilla. The greenhouses provide a whole host of benefits, such as being able to control the amount of light that reaches the vanilla vines. They love 50 percent shade, and a 50 percent mesh allows them to be grown under optimal light conditions. In addition, water misters strung overhead control the humidity in the greenhouse and water the vines as well.

Hand pollinating the vanilla orchid

The vines climb lattices that are created by stringing ropes that run in neat rows between posts throughout the greenhouse. By having nice trellises for the vines to climb on, the growers are able to grow more vanilla per square foot than do those who plant their vanilla outside on native plants. In addition, the greenhouse provides for uniform light and watering.

Up a small path is the building used to both cure and package the beans At the base is a small cement patio on which the beans are cured.

Vanilla is cured by placing the beans in the sunlight for a few hours each day. This causes the beans to "sweat," and they become shiny from the oils that seep out through the skin. When they have sweated enough, the beans are wrapped up in cloth, are brought in, and placed in a sweat box. They continue to sweat in this state throughout the night, and the water that collects in the bottom is allowed to drain. The next day the process begins again. It can take up to six months of this process for vanilla to cure properly.

We went inside the curing and packaging building, where I met Yannick's other partner, Alain, as well as other employees. As one can imagine, the smell of vanilla was immense. It was truly a treat to be able to see the operation in full production.

Yannick, Art, and Alain in one of Le Vanillere's greenhouses

After Yannick finished showing me the greenhouses and the curing and packaging operation, I purchased a fairly large amount of vanilla beans to take back with me so that I could run my own flavor tests to see if it meets our strict flavor standards. I also purchased some of the vanilla extract, though I would not see that for over a month, since the extract is made in France (using the beans of Le Vanillare, of course).

My trip to Le Vanillare was an incredible, and I learned a lot about the operation. To be sure, I will be testing the beans (as well as the beans from a number of other vanilla growers) for possible use in our chocolate.

I spent the remainder of my trip visiting a number of farmers and their plantations, developing new friendships throughout both the islands of Raiatea and Tahaa.

One of the highlights of my trip occurred on my last day. One of the vanilla farmers took me to the head of the Apoomau River, where there is a sacred spring. People come from all over Polynesia to drink at this spring.

We drove up the mountain and pulled off on to a small dirt road. We hiked down the trail that disappeared mysteriously. A smaller trail darted off, and we followed it through the jungle, scurrying down fallen trees through the overbrush and over small brooks. I was glad to have a guide, since there was no way I could have traced this route on my own.

Drinking at the sacred spring at the head of the Apoomau River

Eventually we arrived at the spring. You would not even know the spring was there unless someone showed you. The water flows from a small recess in the side of the hill as a small trickle and into the river. Additional springs flow from the river bottom and create small bursts of bubbles on the surface. We cleared out the fallen debris, and once the water had settled, we drank deeply. The water is slightly effervescent and very refreshing. I made my wish and thought of the generations of Tahitians who came to this same sacred spring with hope in their hearts that their prayers and desires would be fulfilled. Perhaps, my wish will be fulfilled as well.

As we hiked back to the truck, I reflected on my time in Tahiti.

Looking back on the shore of Raiatea as I head back to the United States. Uturoa can be seen on the right.

We drove back and said our goodbyes. I hopped in my car and in my remaining time drove around the island and visited the two sacred maraes, pondering the places that over so short a period meant so much. Later that afternoon I boarded the plane and we took off. The plane hugged the coast for just a minute, flying over Uturoa and many of the places I had come to know. I looked for the small bay upon whose shores I had stayed, and while I'm not sure, I thought I caught a glimpse of my host's house before our plane turned out to sea. While I looked forward to returning home, the flight was bittersweet—I had left newfound friendships, though I knew they would last a lifetime.