Miel de Saint-Sacrement
localisation : 14° 48' N | 61° 10' W
Saint-Sacrement honey is harvested in a unique place on earth: the majestic hillside of Martinique’s volcano called the Mount Pelée. The flower from which it is made survived miraculously to the great eruption of 1902. This exceptionally rare amber honey will seduce you with its tropical aromas of mango, passion fruit, and guava.
220G | Récolté à la Martinique
25,00 €
Data sheet
flowers: Laurier de Saint-Antoine (Epilobe) ; Châtaignier
environment: Terre volcanique meuble très fertile constituée de ponces et de cendres,1390 m d'altitude, 256 mm de précipitations annuelles et température moyenne de 22°C.
Saint Pierre, Martinique – 8th May, 1902. The town sits at the foot of Mount Pelée, overlooking the Caribbean Sea. The town is home to an important trading dock and its electoral campaign is at its peak, disturbed by an emerging threat.
On this particular morning, dark clouds have formed at the peak of Mount Pelée and a political convict named Auguste Cyparis stares, through the narrow slit of his cell, at the strange scene being played out upon the docks. A riot of people, attempting to escape the town, is held at gunpoint by an army division. Suddenly, the wind ceases, the sky darkens and the wildlife of the area falls silent. Fear spreads on the docks. A sudden earthquake throws a soldier into the troubled waters and panic strikes. Locked in his cell, Cyparis looks up to the formerly peaceful mountain that he has known for the duration of his life and sees that after centuries of sleep, the volcano has woken once more.
A fire column scorches the sky and rocks rain down on the town. Houses comes crashing down, a fire spreads through the streets of Saint Pierre and people rush to find shelter in fishing boats and cruise ships whilst others choose to dive into the muddy depths of the docks’ waters...
Saint Pierre, Martinique – 8th May, 1902. The town sits at the foot of Mount Pelée, overlooking the Caribbean Sea. The town is home to an important trading dock and its electoral campaign is at its peak, disturbed by an emerging threat.
On this particular morning, dark clouds have formed at the peak of Mount Pelée and a political convict named Auguste Cyparis stares, through the narrow slit of his cell, at the strange scene being played out upon the docks. A riot of people, attempting to escape the town, is held at gunpoint by an army division. Suddenly, the wind ceases, the sky darkens and the wildlife of the area falls silent. Fear spreads on the docks. A sudden earthquake throws a soldier into the troubled waters and panic strikes. Locked in his cell, Cyparis looks up to the formerly peaceful mountain that he has known for the duration of his life and sees that after centuries of sleep, the volcano has woken once more.
A fire column scorches the sky and rocks rain down on the town. Houses comes crashing down, a fire spreads through the streets of Saint Pierre and people rush to find shelter in fishing boats and cruise ships whilst others choose to dive into the muddy depths of the docks’ waters in the search for shelter from the oncoming storm. From his cell, Cyparis stares at the volcanic rocks falling like huge embers on the slopes down to the town, destroying the forest with a thunderous sound. He sees the thick burning cloud covering daylight and he smells the burning gases of the volcano above. His life begins to flash before his eyes. He sees his family, the people he has loved, the deep blue of the Caribbean waters and the colourful beauty of his fatherland. And he comes to accept that this welcoming and most hospitable territory has been hiding a liquid sun in its most secretive depths and that its revelation shall damn him to his final breath.
The entire population of Saint Pierre would perish at the hands of the eruption, with the exception of two survivors. The first owes his salvation to the thickness of his cells walls: Auguste Cyparis. The second lived in the botanical gardens of Saint Pierre and, like Cyparis, watched on as the town it had grown up in perished that day. However, this was not a person, but a bush covered in white flowers. Formerly known as the Heliotrope, the flowers of this bush would soon become known as Saint Sacrement following their miracle survival that fateful day.
Today, it is upon the hills of Mount Pelée that Saint Sacrement thrives. Hidden in the meadows of a former volcano they coat the land like a layer of fresh snow. Every day they are visited by the local colonies of wild bees which pollinate this miraculous flower and as a result, produce what was very nearly a lost treasure…the honey of Saint Sacrement.
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