Southerly Exposure: Eating Art: Vermont as 'terroir'
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A visitor to an area organic farm enjoys an ear of Vermont corn last summer. PHOTO PROVIDED |
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By CLARA ROSE THORNTON HERALD CORRESPONDENT - Published: December 3, 2009
Have you ever been embarrassed by calling a certain effervescent social lubricator by the name "champagne" and having some snob look down his or her nose at you and say, "Ahem, no, this is sparkling wine?"
If so, I hope that you refrained from casting yourself down with the wretches, drinking Boone's Farm so as to reduce the risk of making similar mistakes in the future. I've often made the same mistake myself, and I'm a wine critic.
The difference between the two is largely semantic, yet the reasoning behind the distinction exemplifies a new direction in food culture based on an ancient idea, and holds wonderful possibilities for Vermont that the state is just beginning to capitalize on.
The concept of "terroir," meaning "taste of place," originated in France to denote food and drink with a certain flavor, quality and history due to the culture and climate of a specific region. For example, France's Rhone Valley produces different types of wines from its Beaujolais region, thusly they each possess distinct terroir. The concept is strongly established across Europe, and has trickled out into other wine-producing areas such as Australia (i.e. McLaren Vale) and South Africa (i.e. Paarl).
The designation is not limited to wine regions. Attesting to the strength of the notion, the European Union recently began passing laws that if any culinary items known to come from a distinct area are produced elsewhere, it legally cannot retain the same name, i.e. "Greek-style cheese" vs. feta, or "uncooked prosciutto" vs. Parma ham.
Hence the disdain of our neighborhood snob above; champagne, in the truest sense, can only come from the Champagne, where it was invented, cultivated and evolved, and only the specific soil, topography and climate of that area will grow grapes in the méthode traditionnelle used for centuries. Even if a sparkling wine is grown and produced copying strict methods step by step, it can never approach the true essence of the original. In this view, food and drink preparation is a learned craft; it's an art.
Before you add another notch to the "Why Europeans are Far Too Culturally Self-Congratulatory" tally on your bedpost, I'd like to offer a quick vignette: In a New Hampshire grocery store recently, I said aloud to my shopping companion, "I need some maple syrup but can't find any." Overhearing me, a woman sidled up behind and told me which aisle it was in, adding with a lowered voice and deflective hand, "It's New Hampshire syrup, though. I'm from Vermont, so I can't deal with that."
She spoke the "New Hampshire" adjective like she was saying "rat paste," and this was only 2 miles past the Vermont state line.
I don't know what's funnier — that she acted like this, or that I could completely understand her feeling.
And here is the miraculous news: Vermont is now being considered for terroir designation. Various international food associations, food summits and culinary organizations are pushing for the state — with its world-renowned Vermont cheddar, fruit wines, grape wines made with cold-hardy Swenson varietals and plethora of maple delicacies — be recognized as a culture creating agricultural products that are distinct throughout the world.
Only three states in America have been recommended for official designation by various entities: Vermont, California and Wisconsin. For more information, a simple "Vermont terroir" Google search brings 10 pages of hits.
The terroir development has sent certain sectors of Vermont into a creative-economy marketing and brainstorming frenzy. Creative economy, of course, is the recognition and implementation of resources in the artistic, industrial, agricultural and historical heritage realms to create strong commerce. It is the exploration of what off-the-beaten-path or traditionally unrecognized economic engines are available in a neighborhood, city or nation. Though the phrase primarily refers to the arts, any aspect of a region that is or was fueled by creativity and creative solutions is fair game.
I believe it's fair to say that Vermont eats art.
A major step forward happened at The Hermitage Inn in West Dover on Nov. 10. The first Southern Vermont Food Summit called on chefs, legislators, entrepreneurs, foodies and food critics to gather in response to the fact that Vermont has emerged as a leader in America's new food culture focused on whole, organic, local produce, and how the state's restaurants, wineries and culinary tourism industry at large can maximize the reality of terroir.
On Tuesday, a new enterprise called Vermont Kitchen held its gala press opening in Wilmington. Vermont Kitchen is a new restaurant/multi-endeavor to combine culinary culture with statewide business and politics. Even Gov. James Douglas attended.
The ball keeps rolling, and the terroir unfolds: Friday is the Festival of Trees Brunch at Bennington Museum. Tickets include a meal prepared by one of Bennington's top chefs, accompanied by mulled cider, sweets and champagne amid the exhibits of a museum whose tagline is "Celebrating Vermont's Heritage." Sunday brings the Victorian Holiday Tea with Lizzie McCullough at Park McCullough House in North Bennington, one of the most regal and well-preserved Victorian mansions in New England, and a significant part of Vermont history.
"Vote Green Mountain Terroir" buttons just may be in order.
Clara Rose Thornton is a freelance cultural critic and arts journalist originally hailing from Chicago who now lives in an artists' colony in Bellows Falls. She can be reached at clara@inkblotcomplex.com, or through her Web site, clararosethornton.com.
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