The Roman emperor Nero had a mercurial personality. For example, as Maguelonne Toussaint-Samat tells us in her History of Food, he killed his wife Poppaea by kicking her when she was pregnant, but then he gave her the most lavish funeral imaginable. He burned on her pyre all of the cinnamon in Rome.
Perhaps the gesture was the product of guilt, but whatever the case there could have been no higher honor. The Romans believed cinnamon was sacred and every Roman emperor stocked cinnamon in his treasury. The Empress Livia even built a temple in honor of her husband Augustus around a huge chunk of the spice sealed in a gold vessel.
The Romans weren't the only ones who valued cinnamon. The ancient Egyptians used it for witchcraft and embalming. References to it in Sanskrit manuscripts make it the first spice to be specifically mentioned in history. It also appears in the Old Testament.
Over the years cinnamon has been prized for its medicinal properties. The Chinese believed it was able to confer immortality. Recent studies indicate that it may inhibit the progression of Type II diabetes, so much so that one researcher recommends that people at risk take a teaspoon per day.
No wonder, then, that cinnamon was once more precious than gold or that it was partly responsible for the beginning of world trade. And no wonder that traders such as Marco Polo deliberately kept its origin secret. Nor is it all that surprising that the Portuguese resorted to terror to preserve their monopoly on the substance.
What might be surprising, however, is the fact that in this country most of what passes for cinnamon is not really cinnamon at all. And perhaps more startling still, a taste test conducted recently by Cooks Illustrated Magazine indicates that that's just the way we like things.
Cinnamon is the dried bark of various laurel trees, but the genuine article comes only from Cinnamomum verum, a tree indigenous to Sri Lanka. Because of high cost (as much as $100 per pound back in the early 1900s), it has not been readily available in this country for nearly a century. Instead, the bark of a similar tree, Cinnamomum cassia (sometimes called bastard cinnamon), is most often imported here. The term cinnamon can be legally applied to both, though in Britain only the real stuff, which is prized for its special flavor, can be sold as cinnamon. (It's not too hard to spot the difference. Cinnamon is tan, while cassia is reddish brown.)
Though there is only one true cinnamon, there are several varieties of cassia, the chief ones being from Indonesia, Vietnam and China. Most of what is sold as cinnamon in the United States is cassia from Indonesia. Chinese cassia tends to have a stronger flavor while the Vietnamese variety, only recently available in this country, has gained a reputation for being among the world's finest.
Needless to say, given all this variation, the taste of competing brands of cinnamon can differ dramatically, as Cooks Illustrated recently discovered. It conducted a blind tasting of nearly a dozen samples of cinnamon, including true cinnamon from Sri Lanka. Some 20 people took part in two separate rounds of tasting.
Ironically, the true cinnamon was rated only "acceptable," finishing eighth. Almost every brand of cassia finished ahead of it. Some testers actually complained that the real stuff was not "cinnamon-y" enough! Apparently, Americans have become accustomed to the more robust flavor of cassia. By the way, the difference in taste between cassia and real cinnamon has to do with their essential oils. True cinnamon contains eugenol, a chemical which gives cloves their flavor, while cassia does not.
The top-rated brand, incidentally, was Penzey's China Cassia Cinnamon, available through mail order from Penzey's Ltd. by calling (800) 741-7787. The top-rated supermarket brand was McCormick's, an Indonesian cassia. Interestingly enough, McCormick's Vietnamese cassia, though more expensive, was rated lower. Penzey's Vietnamese cassia, however, finished in second place over all, ahead of both McCormick versions.
You can buy cinnamon bark chips and grind them yourself (William Bounds, Ltd. of California is one supplier), but typically cinnamon is sold in stick or powdered form. The sticks generally have less flavor because they come from the tree's upper branches, whereas ground cinnamon is typically made from the more strongly scented older bark lower on the tree.
Though cinnamon is probably the most common baking spice, it's a shame to confine it only to cakes and pastries, as is typical in European and American cookery. In the Middle East, however, it's often found in meat stews such as the Moroccan tagine. In fact, in Lebanon and much of Syria, cinnamon and allspice are the only spices used to flavor meat. A bit of cinnamon can also transform a rice pilaf and enhance the taste of vegetables and fruits. It's the bark that makes for a great bite.
Lucille's Caramel/Cinnamon Rolls
These rolls are the perfect showcase for cinnamon, says Dr. Jim Dufek of the Mass Communications department at Southeast Missouri State University. A cinnamon aficionado (he prefers Penzey's Chinese Cassia), he has been making them for 17 years from a recipe handed down by his mother, whose renditions of these rolls in years past have sold at church auctions for as much as $500 per pan. One bite and you'll see why.
Ingredients:
5 cups flour
2 packages instant dry yeast
2 cups milk
1/2 cup soft margarine plus additional for spreading
1/2 cup sugar
2 teaspoons salt
2 eggs
2 and 1/2 cups brown sugar, divided
2 tablespoons cinnamon
1 cup heavy cream
1 teaspoon vanilla
Directions:
Sift three cups of the flour and mix with the yeast. Warm milk to 125-130 degrees. Melt 1/2 cup margarine and add to milk along with sugar and salt. Mix well. Beat eggs until frothy and add to mixture. Add remaining flour a little at a time to form soft dough. Knead dough until smooth, place in a covered greased bowl and let rise until doubled. Punch down dough, let rise again and punch down again. Roll half of dough out onto a floured surface and spread with additional margarine. Sprinkle generously with 1/4 cup brown sugar and 1 tablespoon cinnamon. Roll up tightly and cut into 1-inch slices. Repeat with remaining dough. Place rolls in a greased 9x13-inch pan and let rise until doubled. Combine 2 cups brown sugar, heavy cream and vanilla and heat just to the boil. Remove from heat and let cool. Pour over rolls and bake at 375 degrees for 20 minutes or until topping begins to bubble. Serve warm. Makes two dozen rolls.
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