Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Exhausted in Hanoi

 This is a reprint of an AbsoluteTrygve blog post from 2009.
 
I don’t know how these corporate travelers do it. All these flights just kill me. It must be easier if you zip from 5 star to 5 star. But that’s not how I work. After 2 days in Malaysia, and 4 days in Thailand again, it was 3 days in Hanoi, Vietnam.

I went to have a look and a visit with our Vietnamese distiller, who is perhaps Vietnamese in his heart, but French in his distillations. We have been waiting for some months for this entire order to be assembled and ready, and here we are!

Lolo does herbs, and water/steam distillations, and now some alcohol extractions; no absolutes. He and his partner and his partner’s family now have a farm a few hours south of Hanoi, along the Ho Chi Min trail; the trail the North used to supply the South during the American war in the 1960s and 70s.

Although this farm is not certified organic, all farming is not only organically done but done by hand, except perhaps the initial plowing to turn the earth to ready it for sowing. Otherwise all is done with human and buffalo.
Ambrette around water

Artemisia
I had a chance to see fantastic soft and sweet Artemisia, and a whole forest of spicy shiso (Perilla.) Growing nearby is palmarosa, patchouli, verbena basil (Ocimum basilicum v Verbenum,) which is really fresh and verbena like, nothing like lemon basil. I’ve even got a little oil coming from just the flowering tops. It’s difficult to find someone who cares enough to do this sort of harvest: just the flowering tops. I can count these distillers on one hand. Additionally, there are several kinds of herbs that grow mostly for culinary purposes, (one just to serve with dog meat!!!!) and these are all being distilled too. Growing around a pond we find ambrette, and a really delicious little white flower no one knows the name of, that’s found in the forest, and apparently very slow growing. After 10 years you can still put your fingers around the trunk so this is not really a sustainable thing to make. It’s too bad because Lolo has made some alcohol maceration with it and all I can say is Holy Hell. You could rule the world with an oil of that! But we will have to content ourselves with the alcohol…..It’s a fruity flowery little happy sweet one but useless to try and describe at this point.

We drove quite a long time for this, but fortunately I wasn’t driving so I could ignore the terrifying Vietnamese driving habits. I never once saw a person look before they pulled out on to the road on their scooter, which was always precariously balanced with at least two people, and often many kilos of lumber, fodder, flowers, gas (!), or huge bales of something.

One thing about Vietnam, the Vietnamese are so completely industrious. Unlike Laos, for example, where you rarely see even small cultivated areas, in Vietnam it’s continual. It seems there is not one square metre of land that does not do its part to ensure the prosperous future of the Socialist republic of Vietnam. Rice, Bananas. Papayas, Coconuts. And more. The shimmering green rice paddies are the trademark of this country, with people in those excellently designed conical hats bent over toiling in ankle deep water. It’s actually a horrifying way to make your living. Just imagine bending over like that for an hour, never mind day after day, sunrise to sundown. And in the sun. And when the rice is harvested that’s not all. Then you’ve got the winnowing, And it goes on and on. Of all the things to automate, this is one the things that actually should be, I think. But our priorities lie elsewhere.

Shiso--Perilla
Land is usually worked with the help of a buffalo. I don’t think I saw a single tractor but I do imagine villages own them collectively. I did see plenty of buffalo wallowing though, That’s always something nice to see: the happy buffalo sink into the mud like heaven, nostrils flaring and eyes rolling. I think, although I may be wrong, that buffalos are one of the only creatures who actually respect women more than men. I have seen buffalos go after men (especially western men) who dared to speak to them. Even Lolo was insulted as we walked past the lovely creature in the mud. But 6 year old girls can boss them around without question. Even I elicited no response from her as I followed Lolo about.

We had a wonderful lunch on the farm, with plenty of vegetarian food for us, and Lolo got his boiled pigs feet, which he apparently looks forward to for months at a time. The huge black spider perched above us eats the mosquitoes, but there are plenty of other, more venomous creatures about, like the nearly foot long centipedes, or maybe they’re millipedes, but they are the reason you should wear big heavy gloves as you stick your hand in places you can’t see. They are even used as their own anti-venom. Somehow they are caught and stuffed into bottles of alcohol, which is then left to macerate, and should you be stung by one of these very scary indeed creatures, then you can apply millipede alcohol as soon as possible to the bite. Perhaps then you will not die. Fortunately we talked more about flowers and herbs.

Palmarosa

Basil Verbena
Too bad for us there was no distillation to photograph on the day we were there. It had rained the night before; good for the basil, but not for distillation. But no matter, I have seen plenty of Lolos distillations before. I know he takes a lot of care of and treats every plant as it’s own unique being, getting to know and understand their personalities. He was the first one I know to distill the fresh ginger, and fresh anise. Both of those oils are usually found dried and from China, which probably partly explains why they are not the oils uppermost on people’s mind when they come to Enfleurage. But smelling either of these when distilled fresh and from Vietnam…..well, it becomes another story. Then they become magnificent, desirable essential oils, unlocking creativity and inspiring people to try new blends.

The next day I went to see Lolo at his house, which is also his lab. In the past he has been well known for his liquors made from local fruits: Guava, Passion Fruit, Apricot, Raspberry, Green lemon and the like, but this time the emphasis was more on the essential oils, so I ordered fantastic new oils for the store: One of these is Turmeric, Curcuma. This staple of Indian cooking is sometimes found as an essential oil. It’s not too common, but Lolo had an idea about this particular Curcuma, from a particular guy, and a particular place and it was supposed to be so special we waited for months for it. Well, it is amazing, absolutely delicious and divine, deep earthy, robustly orange and very complex. I also ordered Black pepper, something we always have, and this time also white pepper.

I don’t even know what to say about white pepper, except that it is one of those spices who changes incredibly. My father used to cook with white pepper in the dish, black pepper on the dish, and so I do too. It always smells so different in the jar when I use it but adds a lively sharp excitement to the dish and here as an essential oil it’s the same. Smelled in the bottle, I didn’t even recognize him, but when I tried one of Lolos blends with white pepper featured he was thrilling and unmistakable. Hard to describe now as I’m on a plane.

I’ve got fresh new Litsea Cubeba, distilled from fruits, always an excellent and refreshing oil, and a tiny bit of a new distillation, this time done with the flowers. Shiso leaf is also waiting for his trip to America, as is an incredibly delightful, mouth watering, and utterly complete Cilantro. We have more fresh ginger coming, and the incredible and missing in action for so long lymnophillia, which some people call gingergrass, but this is apparently incorrect.
A lemony note is continuing here, as we’ve got Melissa coming back, and also a really nice and exceptionally sweet and refined Citronella, believe it or not.

There are a few more oils, none of which I can remember the names of at the moment which is no matter. I will get them later and write a newsletter when they come in. They are all wild from Indochina and there are 4 besides the white pepper. I think we might only have the Vietnamese names anyway…

Vietnam, as always, is a challenging place to be, but I got to eat my favorite dish, Cha Ca, which is probably not spelled right. It’s a Hanoi specialty, of small pieces of fried fish, cold noodles, peanuts, and fresh herbs, which seem to vary from place to place although for sure someone will write to me and say which herbs precisely are the ones used to make correct and traditional Cha ca, but they seem like basil, dill, cilantro, and the like, but not exactly these as we know them, but something very like them. I do love my Cha Ca. I even ate a dish of it in the taxi on the way to the airport!

Monday, December 23, 2013

Lotus Harvest

 This is a reprint of a 2010 AbsoluteTrygve blog post

I went, yesterday morning, to some lotus ponds where the lotus we buy for Enfleurage comes from. First of all, since I know there will be a few people who are just itching to discuss this, let’s get it over at the beginning. There are lotuses and there are water-lilies. Lotuses are Nelumbos and they come in pink (which are also called red) and white only. They open at night, but don’t necessarily close during the day, I don’t think. Some do. Anyway…. 

Lotuses have those big, extremely edible and fantastic seed pods, and water-lilies don’t. Lotuses can apparently regulate the temperature of its flowers, like warm blooded animals do.
Water lilies are not even related to lotuses. They are Nymphaea. They don’t have the big interesting seed pod but they are delightful anyway and water-lilies come in many colors, like blue. Both lotuses and water lilies smell boldly technicolor, bright and strong and floral in weird ways, and although they smell similar, they do smell different from each other and even color to color.
But, that said, unless we are having this exact discussion, we refer to blue water-lilies as blue lotuses. Sorry, I know it bugs a few people, but that’s the way it is. It’s easier and cuter, a double whammy.
Pink lotuses open at night, as I said, and blue ones and white ones open in the daytime. (White water-lilies I assume open in the say and maybe the white lotuses open at night.) It’s hard to know since they don’t necessarily close at all.


All the lotus ponds I visited were mono-chromatic, at least for the most part. I did spot a couple of pink volunteers in the corner of the blue pond, etc. But the majority are all pink, all blue, all white.
Since the lotuses are picked primarily for drying and eating, pesticides are not used. Instead, catfish troll beneath the surface eating worms, bugs, and any other bottom dwellers.
The lotuses are harvested by guys going out with big floating buckets. The harvesters don’t have to go out in little round boats like they do in India’s lotus harvest because even though there are some snakes, there are “not too many.”
This is winter here in Thailand and that doesn’t mean cold—it means there is a breeze, but the flowers don’t like it so much and so there are not too many lotuses out, compared to the summer.
I have to admit I was skeptical in the past. I had never seen enough blue lotuses (waterlilies) to accept that blue lotus oil could be available on the open commercial market but now I get to eat my words, which would taste better with a crunch of fried lotus root to go with.
We ended the day with an overnight to a remote little rural resort, saturated with incredible night blooming flowers and thousands of orchids. Right outside my window was completely insane Quisqualis, not even creeping but somehow turned into a large bush growing out of an anthill.

Once the sun was gone all hell broke loose. I was dizzy all night as thousands of fat and assertive blossoms exploded in drunken glee. Oh yeah.

Sunday, December 22, 2013

Agarwood (and Sandalwood) in Assam


 This is a reprint of a 2010 AbsoluteTrygve post.

I am still in India but just left the North Eastern State of Assam, where I went to have a look at Agarwood and what’s up with it. I visited a few distillers, and spoke at great length with a couple of people, Mr. Tajul Islam Bakshi, who owns and operates a small distillery and Syed Abdul Quavi, who can be loosely defined as a spokesman for Assamese agarwood growers. I believe that despite good intentions, the West’s attempt to limit, ban or control the trade in agarwood from India has been less than beneficial for most of the people involved.

Actually, according to Syed Abdul Quavi, the whole attempt to control or ban the trade in this supposedly endangered species has been somewhat of a disaster.

Before I go on I should need to clarify a few things, if I can. Agarwood has the perception of being overharvested and endangered and I have argued against its inclusion on ICUN redlist or CITES (the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora) Appx 2 based on what I have learned in Laos. The crux of that argument is that in Laos, it is the forests themselves which are endangered, not the agarwood trees, and in fact agarwood, along with rubber and teak make up the majority of trees planted on cleared forest land so they do not now appear to be disappearing from the wild as it is the wild itself that disappears, not the agarwood trees. The addition of agarwood to the international bureaucracy has only served to legalize trade for (usually western) growers who have jumped through the necessary hoops and done the correct paperwork to be awarded with the necessary “eco-friendly” stamp of approval. It goes without saying that the majority of these people are new to agarwood cultivation, recently lured by the promise of big and easy money. So, as usual, the people who have traditionally dealt in agarwood are marginalized, and forced to deal either with intermediaries who can supply the certifications deemed necessary by people who have no connection at all to agarwood.

The last time I was in Laos, last summer, I found that CITES certificates were fairly easy to obtain from a group of Australians now heavily invested in their agarwood project, but when I actually bought my wood and oil, from my usual supplier, we had to scramble to find one, and the one I got was for another company in another country. In other words, it was a fake one.

Here in India, according to Syed Abdul Quavi, the situation in Assam is equally bizarre and the CITES implementations that have been imposed do not reflect a logic for the situation on the ground. Perhaps it is that CITES, as most organizations, comes up with plans and solutions based on their hierarchical structure and goals, taking perhaps governmental reluctance into account but not other factors, like the sheer grinding bureaucracy of the governments, in particular the Indian government. If I may put it another way, the Government of India has made mincemeat out of much more formidable organizations than CITES. We had to actually call the person at TRAFFIC responsible for the whole matter, at his home, in another country, to find out what the regulations are for taking a few tolas of oil out. (We’re not allowed to.)

To quote Quavi again, “the actual procedure to export agarwood is a punishment for growing an endangered species in a private plantation. “

In 1995 Agarwood was placed in CITES appendix 2 severely restricting the movement and sale of raw material and products made from it.

In 2000 local Indian legislation (The Assam Wood Based Industries Rules 2000) compelled the agarwood industry, then, as now, a cottage industry, to shift all agarwood distillation away from farms and home distilleries to industrial areas in certain cities; so the industry does not technically exist anymore.

Why? Agarwood is expensive. If you must shift your operation to a place far away from your home, you will have to employ at least three people just to do what the family does normally; to watch the agarwood. Security and price become an immediate and insurmountable problem. It’s not feasible and perhaps one of those things that looks very good on paper, but doesn’t work practically, like communism. It was a typically heavy handed and ill-considered dictum that produced no results at all except to render the agarwood industry invisible, the opposite effect of what was intended.


Since there are no industrial Agarwood farms, there is, following the same logic, no agarwood. So the small growers, and particularly the people who have a few trees in their yards, as is common in Assam, don’t technically exist because they are not in designated industrial agarwood places. Therefore, since they cannot be registered growers, they cannot produce agarwood, so all agarwood produced is thereby assumed to be from the wild. And Cites does not issue permits for this “wild wood.”
Indian CITES says they “are working on it.”
For 10 years now. By way of support they offer this: ”Until the rules are framed by the government you are requested to close down your industry.”

The presence of a real indigenous agarwood industry does not legally exist.

Then how is there legal agarwood and oil exported from India? There are a few industrial distilleries located in export free zones (Mohammed Doud & Bros near Chennai for example) and a few people dealing in oil from places like Kannauj or Kanpur (one the India’s most polluted cites.) Since 1995, if you (legally) import SE Asian wood to India, you can also re-export it. So “Indian” agarwood, if it is legal, is always going to actually be SE Asian agarwood, processed in India. It’s like Sandalwood “from Kerala” that so many people think is really from Kerala. It’s processed in Kerala, but actually from Africa.

Sayed Abdul Quavi continues: “If cites is so good at banning trade in a particular area which can easily be cultivated and replenished in nature, then they should also be proactive in seeing that the passage of cultivated agarwood to the international market is made easy from the range states, for example India, from which not a kilo of agarwood has been exported since 1995 on CITES papers, since it is only a process of marking the paper with an A (artificially propagated) or W (Wild.)

Indeed.

What I found in Upper Assam was a plentitude of agarwood growing. You could say most homes had a few trees in the front yard. They are good insurance for a daughters wedding or a son going away to school. And they will sell, to someone who will render them into chips and distill the rest. I didn’t see any wild forest at all. I know it’s there, but we drove up from Guwahati, all the way to Jorhat, near the Nagaland border and after about midway, once we reached the “upper” part of the State, agarwood was everywhere I looked.


There were also quite a few small distillers, with 3-5 stills processing local (farmed) but illegal-by-default-technicality wood. And with the exception of what I saw in Nagaon, the distilleries I saw used rice paddy husks and already distilled agarwood chips as fuel for the stills, not firewood.

It seems like a pretty clean little industry to me, even when we get to the next part, which is how are these distillers going to sell their oil and to whom? This is where Ajmal comes in.

Whatever you may think of Ajmal, a large perfume/agarwood company based in Hojai, whose name means “Prettier” in Arabic, they clearly have a large presence in the agarwood world. Anyone familiar with the Arabic lands will know them immediately. We have three branches in Salalah! It’s a family business, of course, with its own local language, Sylleti.

I had the pleasure of popping in on them, for lunch, courtesy of Quavi, a close family friend.

While I didn’t get to see any distillation actually going on, I now understand that it’s mainly because whether or not they distill their own oil, they definitely buy it from people throughout the countryside. And then they deal with how to get it out into the world. Ajmal is probably well equipped for this, I have no idea how exactly they do it, but it’s a good thing they do because selling your oil to Ajmal gives you an income.


Assam has plenty of natural resources; it has gold. It has oil. It has agarwood. But this is not obvious when you are traveling through. Most people you see are walking. There are a few bicycles. The cars are all Marutis and smaller. I didn’t see a single Landcruiser, Mercedes or Lexus. Most homes are bamboo and thatch with possibly some brightly painted concrete blocks. No one had flashy cell phones, or expensive sunglasses. These are the normal indicators of money. The homes in general were delightful in appearance, with cleanly swept yards, and fruit (and agarwood) trees. But they were really simple. The towns were simple too. I did not see a lot of jewelry shops, of electronics stores, car dealerships, even petrol stations. There were not a lot of banks. The plowing is done with animals. Water was often brought via hand cranked pumps. Only some villages are electrified. All in all, not a place where there is a huge underground economy. It’s a sustenance economy, dependent on the weather and the crops. In this picture you see agarwood and sandalwood growing side by side. Sandalwood is a parasite and he needs someone to grow with, to feed him like the litle prince he is.

If some of these people cut down their own trees, sell them, cut them up and distill part of them, for a very costly oil that the Arabs love, then what is the problem? It’s necessary for the Western conservationists to come in and run things? But thanks to the helpfulness of the Indian government and organizations like CITES, we can be assured that this small world of agarwood will stay exactly as it is, with oil being smuggled out in small proportions and no more no less. In fact, it may be better this way, as, if CITES permits were actually issued for Indian oil, the government would probably take such a big bite of tax that people would smuggle it anyway.

So this is Upper Assam. All the wood I saw was supposedly farmed, domestically grown, wood. Sometimes it was a natural infection (very good) and sometimes it was infected (ok but inferior.) Yet Mr. Bakshi down in Nagaon said the wood I bought from him was wild from Nagaland. It’s hard to imagine that wood making the trip down through Upper Assam to where he is. Why would it? There is plenty of wood available between the two places. He had a lot of trees under cultivation. He said 30,000. And they were infecting themselves. I saw this. No need to muck about with an inoculation kit. Unlike Ajmals trees near Hojai, which don’t infect themselves at all, the trees both near Nagaon and in Upper Assam will do their own work.


Why would he tell me the wood was wild if it was farmed unless it was due to the perceived preference for wild wood? I don’t know and I don’t have an answer. But all the other wood I saw was supposedly farmed and I don’t know how you can tell for sure. When I saw logs for sale they sure looked like trees out of someone’s yard. They were small, some of them little more than saplings. All of them were infected with some resin. Some had been wounded and others carried the mark of an insect only. These trees were all only a few years old so it doesn’t seem too far-fetched that they were planted, grew and harvested.

I think what you look for in the case of Upper Assam trees, if you are not trying to infect them, are the insect bore marks. They are easy to spot, and so is the pile of dust at the bottom of the tree after they’ve been drilling through it.


So the whole thing about farm grown trees now has a common sense and logic that is unquestionable to me. But when people buy oil that is “certified” or something similar as Indian oil, they should be wary. It can’t exist, since there is no agarwood in India, remember?

I was wrong about something that I wrote about long ago. I thought that once the infections were done, and good wood extracted, and distilled, then the price of oudh oil would go down due to the vast amount of oil suddenly on the market. But this doesn’t look like it’s happening. It looks like good Oudh will always command a high price, since it will always be rare and with good oudh becoming rarer, the price going higher, now we can witness the birth of Boyah.



Boyah is fairly new to Agarwood, and it looks as though it’s here to stay. Boyah smells like agarwood (to Western noses,) and it’s distilled from agarwood trees, but it’s distilled from white wood. That’s uninfected wood. Or very minimally infected wood. Boyah is the one that gets hard at room temperature. Most of the agarwood oil you find in the US these days is hard like this. That’s because it’s Boyah. Boyah has a lot of uses: as an addictant in paan, as an agarwood adulterant, etc. Its uses seem to multiply quickly. Years ago there was no Boyah. There was no need as there was plenty of good agarwood. But this Boyah is a good backup. No matter what happens with your infection, you will always have Boyah.


So once again I find myself arguing against CITES and all this control. Although I do have the highest respect for what they, and TRAFFIC do in most cases, particularly when it pertains to animals, agarwood has been a fiasco. As, apparently, have orchids. For more information on that you can read Eric Hansen’s Orchid Fever.

And More from Assam


This is a reprint of a 2010 AbsoluteTrygve post

This is the nucleus of the agarwood industry, Upper Assam, and it’s an enchanting place that I watch for hours from the car window. Most of the homes that we pass are made of thatch, fronds, perhaps brightly coloured concrete, with swept and spacious yards. Agarwood trees generally grow in front. It seems every house here has agarwood trees. You can always sell an agarwood tree to fund the important milestones in life. So even though there are a few plantations here in the traditional sense, there is also an abundance of trees in people’s yard’s, meaning they are cultivated trees.

We fled after the agarwood market, back to Mr Birren’s distillery, picked up Pinky and Maryam, and shot off into the night for Shyamgaon, a little slice of heaven in the forest. Shyamgaon is a Buddhist village, deep in Hindu/Muslim Assam. It’s way up, or out, right on the Nagaland border. And if the world made sense it’s what you would find when you looked in the dictionary under “adorable.” And we got there at night! The roads are tiny, and every house has a little bamboo picket fence around it. Bamboo, agarwood, eucalyptus…..every variety of tree welcomes you from the shadows. Even though they are Buddhist, their caste is Shyam. I don’t get it, but that’s India for you. I had the utter pleasure of meeting these people, I think they are all related. I didn’t get too far, as Quavi and Pinky had lots to talk about with them and of course they were feeding us, another meal I can’t describe. I feel like the boy who cried wolf. Always I say this meal or that one was indescribable, but this time it’s actually true. The only things I can say is that the rice came in a ball and I have never had that kind of rice before. There were fruits masquerading as vegetables. Things that looked like you should eat, you drank instead. Somehow, a boiled green was addictively salty and pungent—I couldn’t stop eating it. There was a strong sense of relief while eating it, like Ok, thank God, this has finally happened. No idea what it was. None. It was completely plain, no sauce, no spice. Just boiled.

I think innoculated

Slim pickins for resin these days
Anyway, I hit it off immensely with Hasna, who turned out to be the head of the co-op. I had gone outside to wash my hands before eating when I couldn’t help but notice a huge room full of giant looms. They would have probably astonished someone who knew what they were looking at even more than they astonished me but they are huge. And intricate, and I just stopped and stood there with my mouth open. I think there were 6 of these. Well, we were in the main Women’s Assam Silk Weaving Coop. They specialize in golden thread. It’s completely out of control. Wonderful. I snapped a few inadequate pictures.

Our evening came to an end too soon, and we were off to Jorhat, where the Quavis took me to a hotel and raced off to see Pinky’s family, who live there.

The next morning I was in for a terrifying surprise, as Pinky’s family had a huge welcoming breakfast for me. Believe me I had no idea and was so shocked and at sea surrounded by all the friendly and welcoming yet fierce Indian women asking why I wasn’t married that my left eye exploded. Just a broken blood vessel but I look like a monster (still) and Quavi wondered if I needed to go to the hospital. But again, events proceeded, and I ended up sitting in the yard in the sunshine with some of these ladies and eventually things calmed down. They were all waiting to greet me in their very best saris and believe me that is something to see. All the more so when you realize that this is the rest of the women’s weaving cooperative, which weaves silk saris in Assamese traditional style, using gold thread. They are magnificent.

Back we went to Mr Birrin’s so I could pick up my oil—and we stopped off to see another distiller as well who showed us an oudh with a nasty burnt note that lasted for about 5 minutes and then began to morph into the most beautiful classical Indian oudh, rich and delightful, a complete shock for us. There is so much to see in Assam, and Upper Assam in particular is just heaven. If I didn’t live in Oman I would go stick to Shyamgaon immediately.
It was a shock to sit out there, around the fire that previous night, (with a hard bitten pup allowed and proud to share the fire with us,) to think that actually, we were closer to Bangkok than Delhi. It’s a whole part of the world I’ve never given much thought to, as it’s not the “regular” part of India. But India’s Northeast, Burma, Thailand, China even, Bangladesh…..this is a pretty untouched (by the modern world,) spot. I didn’t see another westerner at all. Not one. And no chain stores, obviously. Everything on a small scale, those tiny roads winding through the bamboo forest, full of woven bamboo and frond homes on stilts, clear eyed cows laying in safety and comfort on the ground under the houses, chewing their cuds, gentle eyed in the darkness. I didn’t want to leave that town!


But leave we had to. Thankfully it was Sunday and we had minimal traffic all the way back to Guwahati. I caught a plane the next day and here I am in Bangalore, another world from the quiet of Assam.

Enchanting Assam


This is a reprint of a 2010 AbsoluteTrygve post.

After a delightful breakfast of dahl and bread, it was off to the local TV Station, where I was a guest on Nagaon Today. Sompriti and I discussed agarwood and why Assam is known for it as Tajul and Quavi watched from the screens outside. It seemed like it went ok, and the show was done in English and Assamese. (I did the English part.)

After this I was off with Quavi, his wife Pinky and his 3 year old daughter Maryam for the wilds of Assam. And what a delightful state it is!

First we drove to Ajmal’s farm and it was quite an interesting visit. Ajmal, for anyone who is unfamiliar with it, means “Prettier” in Arabic and they are a very big company based in Assam and selling agarwood all over the Middle East. Even Salalah has 3 Ajmal branches. Ajmal has been growing agarwood trees all over Assam for 20 years and even with the ridiculous restrictions imposed by the Assam Wood Based Industries Rules 2000 and CITES (which you can read about in detail on the previous post “Agarwood in Assam,”) it seems to me that they run the show.

A tiny part of their stock

Teak and agarwood.
Ajmal has a big complex in Hojai, which is one of my super-geeky holy grails, one of my stops on the must-go list. But it’s not sarcastic. I am thrilled to have actually made it to Hojai, a fairly unremarkable town to an untrained eye, until one gets to the Flower Valley Agro Tech in Gopalnagar, where Ajmal’s nerve center buzzes with odd activity. There are 5 brothers and I met 2 of them, and the nephew, who was loquacious and kept up a pretty good rap. But there were no women around and I mean no women at all. Not a woman in the place. Not one. Men crawled all over this office-housing-etc complex, construction workers, maintenance men, servants, gardeners, security men, the owners themselves. But Quavi thinks I might have been the first woman some of them have ever talked to after their mothers and sisters. It must be possible. 


At first we ate and why is it men can always talk about fish? The Nephew, whose name escapes me at the moment regaled me with stories of fine fish eaten, and the lengths some of them have gone to in order to eat a particular fish, flying all the way to Bombay in one case, and spending a small fortune in transportation just to eat a 500 RS fish. Soon they were forcing more fish on me and I have admit it was very good fish indeed, river fish from the Brahmaputra.

Despite its size, and the presence of a rose garden, Ajmal does not distill roses. They only distill agarwood but had a sample of Assamese sandalwood and will start to cut their trees in 5 years or so. They have patience. They have started growing sandalwood along with agarwood and I have some pictures of the two growing together. Sandalwood being a parasitic tree, he can’t live unless he has a host to mooch off of. 



We walked to the market-size agarwood receiving area where wood is cleaned and sorted and found ourselves in the open area between these receiving areas and the agarwood storage. So many locks on the door to the agarwood storage it looked like a New York apartment circa 1984. Three boxes of cleaned and good looking agarwood was pulled out, all of it supposedly from natural occurring infection. 



The scene was surreal—a dozen and a half men milling about, our armed guards, the two huge Ajmal guys in white, the Nephew, whispering prices and promises in my ear, the heavily locked storage rooms and the hum of electric energy you get when lots of expensive agarwood comes into the room. 

A small part of the agarwood reception area


Exactly what one might hope for, coming to the ends of the earth like this. They even speak their own language at Ajmal—it’s a dialect called Sylleti.

They actually buy agarwood oil from all over the area, from the small distillers, and this keeps a lot of people alive and in business. If it wasn’t for Ajmal, a large part of Assam’s economy would probably collapse. 


We spent a couple of hours at Ajmal, way beyond our original plan of course, and finally roared off into the night for a long and exhaustive trip to Kanziranga State Park.

Next morning we were off for a jeep ride through the park, looking for wild rhinos and elephants. We spent several hours bucketing about in the back of the truck and saw plenty of elephants and deer and even a few rhinos. The Indian one horned rhino is critically endangered (far more deserving of CITES protection than agarwood) and it was wonderful to see this nearly blind and sweet vegetarian armoured creature nibbling away in the brush across the river but I couldn’t help but be grateful that I started traveling when I did, way back I the 80s. I remember I rode an elephant through the Terai brush in Nepal early one morning in 1985, following one of those big rhinos for hours, getting about 20 feet away from him. 



 After this it was off to Upper Assam and the land of agarwood distilleries. We wound up in the late afternoon at the distillery of a delightful Hindu man (most agarwood people are Muslim) and served a delicious lunch that perfectly matched the delicious oudh oil. I learnt quite a bit about the actual distilling that I didn’t know. The chips (not dust here) are distilled for maybe 4 days, then removed. Then the wood is distilled another 7 days maybe. Then removed again. Then it’s distilled another 10 days or so, depending, constantly removed and checked to make sure it hasn’t reached the point where it hardens. Once that happens you have boyah and the oudh plummets in value. You can sell boyah as well, but not for nearly as much. Boyah is the stuff that gets hard. It’s from white wood, not infected or with very little infection. Most of what you see in the US is boyah. Even though it is technically agarwood oil, distilled from an agarwood tree, it’s not oudh.



So this was a fine opportunity to try each fraction (for want of a better word) of the oudh. I have never had that opportunity before. I must interject that nowhere in Assam did I see the things that usually spell suspicion of adulteration to me. In each and every family distillery I saw exactly what I would have expected to see. It’s a nice surprise to have no ugly surprises.

Oud fractions




Realizing the day was almost over Quavi propelled me into the car and we shot off toward the agarwood market in the deepening twilight. After endless turns and through enchanting but completely disorienting landscape we came upon a space by the side of the road littered with bikes laden with entire small agarwood trees. Well, I don’t usually get intimidated but I sure as hell did here. These guys were quite obviously not pleased to see me, and, I later learned, nor Quavi. No one knows whether to love him or hate him I guess. And me? I think they thought I was a CITES official or a journalist. I foolishly had my camera with me. Later Quavi laughed at me and said he didn’t know why I felt intimidated but really it was something. These guys, not one of them smiling, pressed in really really close and the vibe made me realize just how far away I was from anything or anyone who might have cared if I got lynched.
Notice there's no people in this picture?

Obviously man made infection
But aside from that, and figuring that I was already in the soup anyway, I managed to squeeze off a few blurry photos of the infections. Some were obviously naturally occurring and some were cajoled out at knifepoint! I didn’t get any answers to prices as I had taken it about as far as I could and I figured I should go get back in the car. I could see Quavi about 50 feet away surrounded by his own gang of angry farmers. And he didn’t look so comfortable either, despite what he said later.

Anyway, we lived.

Assam as Fast as Possible

Agarwood plantation
This is a reprint of a 2010 AbsoluteTrygve post

Things tend to move fast. And here I am feeling a bit like I’ve been chewed and spit out, but at least I avoided the canines, the grinders and the molars, so a good shake ought to be enough to set things right. Right.

I was pretty lame when I bought the ticket to India. The only thing I looked at was the length of time Oman to India. Completely spaced on the two Indian connections I had to make in Mumbai and Delhi. All I can say is don’t do it. Jet is a good airline but Jet Lite copies the American carriers—it’s best avoided, but it is cheap at least. Back to back flights on it, though, are rough. And the actual Airports are still under the control of the government. They must be. A private company could never get away with it. I won’t say more but if you are thinking to save a few dollars by not taking the direct flight……spend them instead. All your primal instincts will come into the fore if you attempt the “free shuttle bus” at Mumbai. On the other hand, if you are looking to prove yourself, to test your limits, then it’s just the ticket.

So here I am in Assam, a place I always wanted to visit, and it’s just beautiful and green as I imagined even though it will be greener in and after the monsoon. Assam is famous for tea and rhinos, and I am still thinking about going to see these pretty, yet easily irritated beasts.
Agarwood trees....


Insect infestation
The tea I saw and tea plantations dot the hillsides, running a rich green carpet luxuriously over undulating countryside. Assam feels wild as well, and there doesn’t seem to be much commercialization. As usual in rural India, the people seem like they work very hard; plowing is done with buffalos, and there are not many cars. Everyone is on foot or maybe bicycle. The women are as pretty, graceful and elegant as always, in bright delicious colors, dupattas flowing. Wild elephants still visit the agarwood plantations at night, but Tajul says they do no damage.

Tajul has an agarwood farm near Nagaon, with about 30,000 trees scattered over a couple of forest plots. The oldest ones are over 12 years old. One of the most interesting and satisfying things is that according to him, the infection will usually occur naturally. It’s a question of time. That means that all those people who jumped on the bandwagon with big investments in Thailand, Vietnam, China, Laos, etc, the ones who are all freaking out because they have lost money and just want their investment back and to get the hell out asap……..they are victims of their own impatience, nothing more. If the infection occurs naturally with 99% of the trees, which is what I’m hearing today, then the ones who are trying to manipulate it have started their whole cycle with a desire to go push the natural process, to artificially accelerate, inseminate, to go faster, to improve on nature, and all under the guise of “sustainability” even if it was not very well thought out sustainability.

And it’s been a disaster for almost everyone. Most people then will not benefit from growing agarwood, particularly modern people in a hurry. Americans? Australians? Thais? Nah. You need patience! Nothing more difficult and nothing more fitting or funnier.
Insect infestation

Supposedly, no innoculation is needed in Assam...
I may be proven wrong in the next few days as I continue my journey around Assam, but that’s ok. One thing about agarwood, once you know something, you can be sure the information will change completely and then you’ll know nothing again! Sometimes the answers are hard to see because of their obviousness. Most of the time we look in books, or worse, online, and think someone else has the answers. I feel quite vindicated actually, since I was so repulsed at the torturous tree treatments I encountered at the Bangkok conference in 2007.

But despite all this, I expect that even the most stalwart and patient individual will still jump on a short cut if they can. And the trees do make some money, especially here in Assam where people have planted a couple in their yards, not 15,000. So maybe one day the forced infections will succeed.

Whether the agarwood is used for oil or chips is a decision made differently here than in Laos. There, the basic rule is: if it’s over 2000 bhat a kilo, don’t cook it. Here, the “partly processed” wood—that means cut up into manageable pieces, are examined closely and any signs of infection are cut out. It’s a lot of labor. Then the darker pieces, the ones that look even a little bit interesting, are taken for wood chips, and the rest is distilled. So maybe 40% chips, 60% distilled. And I found I was wrong about Boyah.

Boyah is the distilled white wood. I thought it had to come from cultivated trees but no. Boyah is always going to harden at room temperature. I did know that. But I thought it was related to the age of the tree. I think there is just some point of no return with minute parts of oil/resin in the wood and below that it’s boyah time. Boyah can smell great. We have one at Enfleurage and it’s a particularly nice one. But it’s not oudh, even if it technically is. According to Tajul, one of the main uses of Biyah is for Paan, and its job is to make the paan more addictive. So I guess you’d call it an addicitvent.

Sometimes white wood is mixed with infected wood and that is called Kundaboyah. That’s going to be agarwood oil (oudh) that hardens. Confused? Me too but I’m comfortable with it.

Burning some
The oil he is distilling now is wild wood from Nagaland. I have to say that although I know plenty of people will contest this, I have not seen oil from cultivated wood. A little boyah, yes, perhaps, but not oudh. So here we are again with the wild wood, and I’m glad for it. There are even a couple of tolas on their way to Enfleurage. It’s smells like the moon, glorious shining luxury. Actually, thisway this oil smells reminds me of what I had filed away in my brain under “Cambodian.”

Even though I still don’t think this tree is an endangered species, I have to admit that a lot of firewood goes into the maw. The agarwood is distilled 7-10 days and then again for 10-15 days and the fire goes all that time. In Laos it’s done with coal, and that has to be made—and it’s not a nice job, I figure it could be compared to salting cabbage in outdoor pits for the North Korean Army in winter. I use gas for my Luban but I’m sure there’s a drawback to that too.

On the other side of things, Tajul has a goat donating scheme. They pick a village and donate female goats to a few women. The first baby goat the women keep. The second goes back to Tajul. The third and fourth kids are sold and the money divided. By the fifth kid the family keeps the goat. So everyone benefits—the women get a little income, their children get goat’s milk, and Tajul gets more money and goats to donate further.

The food here is great. Of course, that’s no surprise as it’s India. Assamese food is very different from the other Indian cuisines and there have been several dishes that I couldn’t even guess at. All veg though. For breakfast we had pooris lighter than a cloud and a chickpea/potato bhaji curry, for dinner last night and lunch yesterday and today there was plenty of local rice, with a strong and extremely pleasing fresh rice smell. Makes me realize how much rice smells old. There was a dish that looked like eggplant but was apparently papaya! Smelled like nothing I can imagine—I will ask further about it, but it was a milestone kind of dish…lots of dahl, vegetables including cauliflower, spinach fritters that disturbed me with their overwhelming tastiness and for some reason, their small size and shape. I would never have guessed spinach if I hadn’t been told. On and On. And one more meal tonight. All meals have been taken at Tajul’s sisters house here in Nagaon.

Distillery
Gotta add water for a long distillation

Even though my room here—I am staying at the Forestry Guest House, is cacophonous with traffic noise, the night air is also full of birdsongs, which I can hear in and out of the horns, motorbikes, and other screeching. I was surprised to learn that tomorrow I have a TV interview as well as with several print media!

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Boswellia carterii--myth?

 This is a reprint of a 2010 AbsoluteTrygve post.

Going by what I found at the Botanical Garden (in progress) in Muscat and information gleaned from Plants of Dhofar by Anthony G. Miller and Miranda Morris, here are some of the aromatic plants native to Dhofar.

Lavender: Lavandula dhofarensis, Lavandula hasikensis and Lavandula macra are all native. The L. macra grows all over the southern coast of Arabia but the other two are here only. Lavandula hasikensis lives alone in the arid, and exposed outcroppings of Jebel Samhan and Jebel Hasik, the little hermit. In the Jebali language—that’s the native mountain language here-the name means “little plant of the bridegroom and bride” which refers not only to the sweet scent but the soft and delicate textures; unusual in this rugged areas, since most plants produce thorns or bristles.
Lavandula dhofarensis is also soft and sweet, with an innocent happy little air. He lives along the escarpment woodland and around the waterholes there. He likes it wet!
Lavender doesn’t have a strong tradition here, oddly, and these guys have not yet been extracted for oil. Traditionally, though, they are rubbed between the hands and over the body as a perfume and deodorant.
Even though he doesn’t have a strong place here in Dhofar, apparently lavender is used in Yemen, with the leaves being added to milk and drunk for stomach aches, as a vermifuge and against epilepsy. Smoke from the dried leaves is inhaled to strengthen the nerves and the intelligence. A decoction is also drunk for kidney disorders. In the rest of the Middle East lavender infusion is taken as a stimulent(!), a tonic and an antispasmodic.
Lavender, in captivity, but healthy and happy
We have basil. Ocimum forskolei. This is the only one that seems to be native to Dhofar and this time I have traditional uses to list! Basil is primarily used for his smell, not surprisingly, since breathing tainted air was traditionally considered to be dangerous for the health. Like with Berber people, basil has been traditionally worn tucked behind the ears, and, like lavender, the leaves were/are rubbed between the palms and then over the body, so even though there is no distillation tradition, we’ve got essential oil use! Leaves “were crushed and the juice put into the nose of someone with a stuffy headcold, or into the ear of someone with an infected ear. Both these were said to be painful remedies, but nonetheless were held to be efficacious.” Well. From what I know about Dhofari medicine, (which isn’t a whole lot, I’ll admit,) if it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t count. This is the land of the red hot poker….and where you can still find older people who sniff at todays wimps, women going to the hospital to have a baby, instead of just dropping it in the field and then going back to work! The book goes on: “ Juice expressed from the growing tips was put into and around a sore and inflamed eye or one that had been damaged or was bleeding. Again, this was a very ‘hot’ treatment, but the patients condition often improved.” Well, I’d jolly well improve too, I’ll bet. Basil plants were/are also dug up and replanted on the graves of the newly dead. And basil is highly prized for soothing the bites of tiny biting flies that appear during and after Khareef.
In Yemen, a basil paste is supposedly used to dress the hair to stop graying. I have to admit I’ve never seen this, but then why would I have? It makes me happy to think about it though.

Jasmine grandiflorum!! I danced a happy hula when I found that one. And jasmine is related to Olives (and osmanthus, and lilac), which I had forgotten completely, if indeed I ever knew it. So I danced twice. Because if Olive trees (Olea europaea) are here then there may be olive oil in our future. Always a delightful thought. Jasmine, both grandiflorum and floribunda, are apparently found wild all over the Dhofari woodlands, flowering all year long, traipsing in and out of trees…..another thanks to this fantastic book, Plants of Dhofar. The flower locally known as “jasmine” here is Plumbago zeylanica so I don’t feel like as much of an idiot as I could feel. Anyway, jasmine is obviously loved for how she smells, of course, with the added benefit her protective properties against disease and infection. I hear there is a clear and delicate jasmine honey to be found so those poor honey guys will have me pestering the hell out of them again. Jasmine flowers were traditionally pounded into a paste and used as a dressing for burns that were not too severe, like the ones you might get when you treat someone with a red hot poker... So it all works out. This same paste was also packed into a deep or suppurating wound, to disinfect it. And the stems were used to treat stinky leather, say for holding milk.

Interestingly, goats that are not local to the woodlands, ie, goats from the dry areas, that come into to graze after the monsoon, will sometimes pass blood in their urine from eating jasmine and so the herders call jasmine “the bleeder.” Other livestock ignores it.
In Yemen it was mixed with salt and used as a poultice!





 Limes. Citrus aurantifolia Swingle! These are our nice little limes. I didn’t realize they are a native species. Well, maybe not native, I think they are from Indonesia originally, but they grow wild here in Dhofar, if the soil is good, and water is nearby. Limes like to be petted and coddled a bit. I always prefer to buy them over the bigger, yellower and sometimes juicier lemons. These limes are like the cows here, littler and feistier. Maybe a little tougher. I just learned that citruses are technically berries known as “hesperidium.”
Sadly, “aurantifolia” means that leaves are like those of an orange tree.
Poor little, tough little ones.

But limes means lime flowers! So it’s possible we might one day have lime neroli….and lime petitgrain of course, and the lovely lime peels themselves. Limes are still used in cooking here, of course, and plenty of them. Limes of the mountains are/were known to be the best ones, and picked and sold not only here in Salalah but in Muscat, where they were/are dried and shipped overseas. Limes keep well, unlike other citruses, and even the most dried out and withered little black stumpy one will open to reveal life inside. They were/are usually pounded into a powder when in this state, and added to food like any spice. Medicinally, the juice is a tonic for the whole body and a blood cleaner. Here’s the terrifying part: “The juice of a fresh lime was squeezed into a painful ear which was infected and exuding pus….” Get better or else! And people suffering from epigastric pain drank hot water with fresh lime juice.
Wood from lime trees is not suitable firewood as it smells bad!
Wadi Darbat

Frankincense, obviously. Boswellia sacra is our species here. I was so very sure we had dozens of species since the trees differ so much—it seems impossible they are all the same species but I have been corrected. The frankincense area goes from Hasik west all the way to Hadramawt, as far as Habban, to be exact. Here’s an explosive tidbit: According to my Plants of Dhofar bible, B. sacra was thought to be B. serrata in 1846 by Dr. H. J. Carter, a surgeon aboard the East India survey ship Palinurus, while making its survey along the southern Arabian Coast. Then, in 1867, a Swiss chemist and botanist named Flueckiger re-examined Carter’s specimens and renamed them B. sacra. Three years later the English botanist Birdwood decided the specimens were actually the same as the Somali ones—Boswellia carterii! Then for years the Arabian trees were known as B. carterii. Now we hear that the African and Arabian trees are all the same species and therefore all must be called Boswellia sacra since sacra came before carterii. Following the logic, there is no such species as B. carterii! That’s sure to cause some small uproars. I have no opinion on this, as much as I’d like to. It seems to me that there must be a hundred different frankincense species—I don’t like this homoginization at all. But I am suspicious of Latin binomials anyway, as you might know from past posts.
Crazy and impossible, obviously.


Frankincense trees are technically not supposed to be planted but they are, from time to time. They say that the trees growing in the monsoon (Khareef) areas produce a low grade frankincense gum, not worth messing around with. I don’t know what they mean exactly, where they draw the line, by “in the monsoon area” but I strongly suspect that our lovely black beauty frankincense comes from there and she smells like heaven.

Also found here in lovely Dhofar is Cyperus rotundus (nagamotha,) various Commiphoras (myrrh family,) various Acacias (mimosas,) Caesalpinia erlanthera (supposed to be a substitute of Oudh,) Pavetta longiflora, at least one Ferula (galbanum family,) Tamarind, Coconut, and a whole host of other plants I’ll get to eventually. For the meantime, I just wanted to mention these delightful little ones that we already know: jasmine, lime, frankincense, lavender and basil.

If anyone out there is crawling with curiosity, Plants of Dhofar-the Southern Reigon of Oman Traditional, Economic and Medicinal Uses, written by Anthony G. Miller and Dr. Miranda Morris, illustrated by Susanna Stuart-Smith is probably insanely difficult to find. It's published here, in 1988 by The Office of The Advisor for Conservation of The Environment, Diwan of Royal Court, Sultanate of Oman, and the ISBN is 07157 0808-2. Good luck with that.