K-Rae Nelson's Toast2Taste: Terroir: from ‘taste of place’ to Thiercelin’s place for taste

My preferred means of engagement with the world are language and food so it’s no wonder that France holds such appeal for me. French cuisine and the land are inextricably connected in the word terroir. Terroir, often translated as ‘taste of place’ refers to the way the various unique aspects of an environment contribute to a finished product. Terroir honors both the land – a defined geographical area with perhaps a characteristic chalkiness of the soil, a particular microclimate, a certain humidity or salinity of the air – and the artisan’s traditional savoir-faire. It reflects the value placed on the marriage of longstanding, meticulous local practices and the local environment. (On a practical level, this attachment to local place and practice is also, of course, an excellent marketing tool.)

The concept of terroir gained currency a century ago with the French wine labeling system, the Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée, or AOC which is an indication of geographical origin, but also of traditional cultivation and production practices specific to a wine. The AOC system has branched out to other food markets, to include cheeses (Camembert de Normandie, Brie de Meaux and its smaller and lesser known cousin, Brie de Melun), chicken (Poulet de Bresse), lentils (Lentilles du Puy) and even food for food, Foin de Crau (hay from the Crau Plain in Southeastern France). Since the geographical location is of primal importance, the AOC name always includes the place name.

There is great respect in France for quality in food and something of a mythology around the purity of the basic ingredients and the process by which they are transformed, a process that exists in the context of something greater than itself, local culture, history, identity. The right grape for the locale is not sufficient. In order to make great wine, you also need technique. The mastery that results from this devotion to the geography and traditional craft of a given terroir is still revered.

Associated with exotic, far-off lands, the spice merchant occupies a unique place in French culinary traditions, firmly inscribed in the French tradition of excellence, simplicity and purity. Spices cannot stand alone, but they are an essential element of a whole. Enter my favorite spice merchant, Jean-Marc Thiercelin.

The colorful Kingdom of Goumanyat, located in a calm section of Paris’ hip Marais district, is a world dedicated to scents and rare flavors. The old-fashioned wooden drawers lining the walls of this spice shop and the large beakers filled with spices to be swirled and sniffed, much as wine at a tasting, give it the allure of an apothecary. Thiercelin has considerably widened the family business’ initial focus on saffron to include a panoply of spices, reflected in the name of the shop, a play on the words for taste, “goût”, and mania. His stash of Indian curios and Venetian masks, also for sale, evokes the exoticism of spice merchants of old. Quality, careful selection and attention to detail are the hallmarks of Goumanyat.

Monsieur Thiercelin will gladly share his knowledge and answer any questions you might have about his spices. He provides flyers describing the origins, characteristics and uses of different spices, including tempting recipes. One unique offering is the vast array of true and false peppercorns he proposes. It was here that I was introduced to “long” pepper, the most prized pepper in Europe in the Middle Ages. Mr. Thiercelin offers pepper mixtures such as the classic 5-pepper blend in addition to more esoteric ones such as the “Four Ages of Pepper” and, in a nod to Stendhal, “Le Rouge et Le Noir”. The first is in homage to the four stages in the life of a pepper, from the youthful green pepper, to the fragrant Muntoc and Malabar white peppers whose skins have been removed, and the more mature and potent dried Sarawak and Kerala black peppers. “The Red and the Black”, which exudes an overall spiciness rather than strong peppery flavor, is a mixture of aromatic black Tasmanian pepper, flowery pink peppercorns and heat-packing red Pondicherry pepper.

Goumanyat is also an excellent source for so-called false peppers, such as the fiery Sichuan, the fragrant Cubeb, and my current favorite Nepalese Timur, Poivre Timut du Népal. The Timut is a flavor sensation, a recognizable relative to Sichuan pepper, but with a zingy citrus sizzle and refreshing fragrance.

Mr. Thiercelin also creates spice mixtures in collaboration with well-known chefs for use in their restaurants. After a period of exclusivity to the chefs, these blends are released for sale to the public. My favorites are the Mélange Phénicien, a blend of oregano, mint, and toasted sesame seeds, and “1001 Nuits” with its dried rose petals, a mixture that Scheherazade of the Arabian Nights would surely have endorsed. Other items I stock up on are Thiercelin’s unparalleled wild fennel seed, the smoky, multidimensional smoked Spanish chili pepper, Piment Doux Fumé, reminiscent of smoked Hungarian paprika, tiny dried morels, powdered bourbon vanilla and the exotically scented almond-shaped Tonka bean, which exudes a heady perfume akin to crystallized vanilla.

As with the AOC system, Monsieur Thiercelin highlights the geographical origin of his spices and seeks out superlative quality. Thiercelin’s terroir is global and he brings it all home to his place, for us to taste.