Amirkaal – the honey of wonders

Fulmer diary

Amirkaal – the honey of wonders

Amirkaal – the honey of wonders

At the same time as building the camp, from mid-May we also started beekeeping. There was no time to waste: flowering begins in May and lasts until mid-July. After that everything withers because it doesn’t rain at all. We bought 40 swarms from a local beekeeper and placed them in pre-made log hives. These thick-walled wooden hollows, crafted from tree trunks, are exactly the kind of homes bees would choose in nature. Traditionally, honey could only be harvested by destroying the bee colonies. To avoid that, we sliced the logs into 10-centimetre sections, so we could lift the slices and take the honey without harming the bees. Our goal was to create ideal conditions for them.

We placed the hives higher up than the camp itself, deeper into the mountains, in areas the local beekeepers no longer visit. Some could only be transported there by horse. I rented horses from local herders, who graze their animals in the mountains from spring to winter, only returning to the villages in winter when they dismantle their yurts. Together with the locals, we identified the flowering plants. After the snow, the purple flowers of wild garlic appeared first. The bees mostly collected from three plants—sage, wild oregano, and thyme—whose combination produced even finer honey than each plant alone. Unlike in Europe, where thyme barely reaches ankle height, here it grows to chest height, and most plants reach human height. Why? Different subspecies? I don’t think so. I believe it’s the extraordinary soil.

In Hungary, hilly land usually lacks fertile soil, and humus is washed away from cultivated areas by the rain. In my own village in Somogy, the soil value averages around 10 golden crowns. But here, when we dug a 2-metre pit for the septic tank, we found black humus even at the bottom. I have never seen such perfect soil. Like all peoples, the locals have their own legend about the richness of their land: when God created and distributed the Earth, they were asleep. God kept their land for Himself because it was the best. When they woke up and asked what they had received, God reluctantly gave them this place—where they still live today.

We did not extract honey by spinning the combs, but followed the ancient method: cutting the comb out of the log hive and pressing it. We used beekeeping tools brought from home—the very ones my grandparents used. We could have bought new ones, but this way the experience was complete. At the same time, we kept things modern and hygienic: protecting the honey from dust and insects with the proper equipment inside the tent.

I spent two and a half months on site. Since the camp stood empty at the end of summer, I offered it to our local friends who had helped us, so they could use it freely with their families. Looking back, despite all the difficulties, I believe our decision to launch this expedition with clear, practical reasoning was the right one. The result surpassed all our dreams: perfect honey made by happy bee colonies living in flawless harmony with nature. That was the essence! Even though we produced less than 300 kilograms, the honey was marvellous. We named it Amirkaal, after the word local shepherds use for the terroir of the area where we worked. Whoever tastes it can see that the less we interfere with nature, the more capable it is of miracles.

We also had Amirkaal analysed in the laboratory. Following the German beekeepers’ association, we tested the intensity of the enzyme most sensitive in honey and most easily destroyed by heat. If that enzyme is intact, all other bioactive substances are preserved as well. These bioactive components come from the bees themselves. There are no legal requirements for the levels of these substances in honey, which means even if they are missing completely, the product can still legally be sold as table honey. But these values reveal how the honey was treated during processing and packaging—whether it was overheated, for example.

Good honeys from the EU, even well-known brands sold in shops, typically measure around 30 for this enzyme, because they undergo at least two treatments before bottling. In Germany, the beekeepers’ association requires that this value should never fall below 60. In a hive, good honey measures around 80–100; exceptionally bioactive honeys rarely exceed 200. In Amirkaal, however, we measured over 300. Such a remarkably high number shows that this environment provides the bees with perfect conditions.

About the author

As for myself, my early childhood experience has left a fundamental mark on my thinking. In the early 60s, farming was what the land gave you. In the village where I grew up in Somogy, people sprayed exclusively against the potato beetle. I really came from the Middle Ages. My ancestors 500 years ago treated the land just as my grandparents did.