Read This Tragic Story of the 12-Year Old Enslaved Boy Who Launched the Vanilla Industry
I love reading about the history of food. It feels like the best of history by bringing together social, political, cultural, and economic histories into one story. It’s fascinating to see how common, everyday items like tea or vanilla were once rarities and only available to the ultra-rich. Or also seen as dangerous substances that could lead people astray.
But one thing I’ve realized reading all these food histories there’s a common thread, whether it’s cheese, beer, or spices: there’s always slavery. There’s little in our modern life that hasn’t been touched by the institution of slavery.
And there’s no food where this is more evident than in the story of vanilla. Originally from Mexico, Europeans were fascinated by this strange flower and its delicious beans, but when they exported it, they failed to learn (or ask, or care) how to propagate it. For centuries, no one knew how to produce vanilla pods. But then a young boy named Edmond Albius, born to enslaved people, figured out the way to pollinate the elusive plant in 1841. This all took place on the French colony island, Bourbon, now known as La Réunion, located in the Indian Ocean, relatively near the coast of Madagascar. Now, the global vanilla market was estimated to be worth $1.1B in 2024 by market research firm FactMR.
The Rarest Fruit by Gaëlle Bélem, translated by Hildegarde Serle
Reunion-born writer Gaëlle Bélem brings this story of Edmond to life in The Rarest Fruit (Europa Editions, 6/17/2025) using primary sources. She constructs a narrative of Edmond’s life, from his arrival to his enslaver, all the way to his death. She uses a variety of sources to fill out the details of Edmond’s life, but there are gaps in knowledge, which she acknowledges. It’s important for the narrative to bring those omissions of the record to life, that even this remarkable man’s full story was not recorded, another harm of slavery that decided who was and was not worthy of record.
What makes the story even more remarkable was that Edmond’s brilliant finding is acknowledged as his own. Initially, his enslaver tried to take credit, but the record at the time mostly recognized Edmond’s work. He’s carted around to plantation after plantation to demonstrate his technique, and thus spawned a whole new export industry for this little island in the Indian Ocean.
Later on in life, someone tries to claim credit for Edmond’s discovery, and he’s defended by his former master. And yet, despite society mostly acknowledging his incredible feat, which enriched many planters and landowners, Edmond benefits little from it, spending his life trying to find his purpose, a living, and dies penniless in his 50s.
The work is a celebration of Edmond’s botanical genius, but also a damning story about the sins of slavery. Even after emancipation on the island, the violence of slavery remained in the social/racial/gendered hierarchy as well as the lack of reparations. It’s a story of what could have been: what if Edmond could have studied botany formally as his genius demanded, what heights could he have risen? What plants could he have unlocked the secrets of?
So go read this book for many reasons: learn about the genius of Edmond Albius, read about the continued harm of slavery, and deepen your knowledge about an everyday foodstuff that has anything but ordinary origins.
For further reading, check out this list of Black women writers focusing on slavery and another list of informative books about slavery.
