Mundane gifts were once worth weight in gold
Published 11:30 am Tuesday, December 16, 2014
A wild wonder begins this week for many of us — that curiosity about what’s in those delicately wrapped boxes either under the tree or under a parent’s bed.
It’s top secret until Dec. 25 and it’s guarded like rare pieces of art, rendered irreplaceable if ever touched. You’d swear it was containers holding the very gift of the Magi from the Book of Matthew. Nerves can become jumpy at the sight of it, so it’s probably best for now to light the tree and admire the glow.
Thanks to the aforementioned Bible reference, we should all know the scarcity of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Can’t say that I can go to the dollar store or party supply outlet and find the latter two among the umpteen varieties of scented candles, either. You have to log on for those, namely to one of many websites that have holistic oils for sale.
Three other items used to be considered so rare that only the nobility could handle them. Two are in your dinner tonight, while the third might be tied in a Windsor knot around your neck.
The first is salt. No, not bath salts that you’re supposed to use only for bathing and not the fashionable substance known as “sea salt” that’s taken over the snack aisle in the grocery store. I’m talking about the raw version that’s been fought over, literally, for centuries.
In sub-Saharan Africa, salt was once used as currency. In the sixth century, merchants from the continent’s Moorish region graded salt for gold — weight for weight. That’s a remarkable exchange rate, given the value of the U.S. dollar most of our lives, eh? For ancient Egyptians, salt was worth taking to the grave, as tombs have turned up salted birds and fish. Blood pressure wasn’t too big a concern for the gentry of Egypt, I suppose.
Next up? It’s pepper — salt’s best friend on modern-day dinner plates. It’s the reason European ships sailed for far-flung places like India and Malaysia in the 16th century. There, peppercorns were currency and carried with it the same air of royalty as its whiter plate-mate. By the time Britannia ruled the waves on the way to India, nearly all the black pepper found in Europe was traded from the Indian subcontinent’s Malabar Coast.
How about some mysticism with your mashed potatoes? Pepper was believed at one time to cure everything from diarrhea, earache, insect bites, sunburn and tooth decay. Whether any of that was true in the time of Vespucci and Columbus, the stuff has a bit better reputation than it’s friend, salt. Black pepper contains in one tablespoon about 13 percent of the daily need of vitamin K and about 10 percent of iron. They say it loses flavor when exposed to light, so keep it in the darkness of the pantry. It’s better that way.
Last among items the proletariat once could only dream about is silk, the stuff of which your necktie is likely made. Moth caterpillars produce the type of silk most common in manufacturing today, though any insect that undergoes the usual egg-larva-pupa-adult process of development produces the stuff.
Silk was literally the coat of the Chinese ruling classes more than 3,000 years before the birth of Christ. So tight did ancient emperors of China want to keep hold of the practice of “sericulture”, or the farming of silkworms, that it might have been the first recorded instance of a state secret. Word of mouth wasn’t kept down for long, though, and silk trade routes between Europe and India by the first century were as established as salt and pepper.
Why the brief history lesson on commodities so common and mundane now? Breathtaking it is to imagine the juxtaposition of ancient humankind and today’s creatures, baying at the doorstep of retail nirvana for the hot gifts this year. Yesterday’s tart peppercorn is today’s crude oil, in so many ways.
This Christmas, if you unwrap a set of salt and pepper shakers nice enough to enjoy while you still have your tie on, you’re dining like a rich man. You just don’t know it.
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Danny Barrett Jr. is a reporter and can be reached by email at danny.barrett@vicksburgpost.com or by phone at 601-636-4545.