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Does pasteurization of honey kill Clostridium botulinum?

The idea that honey should be pasteurized is truly odd. Honey has been used for centuries to dress wounds because of its antibacterial properties, and yet some people want to pasteurize it as if it might cause disease. Honey virtually never goes bad because it provides an inhospitable environment for most pathogens, yet some people want it cleaner.

Clostridium botulinum is a very common soil-borne organism that doesn’t cause problems for humans unless it is allowed to grow and produce toxins. This happens occasionally in low-acid (medium to high pH) foods that are not properly processed. Clostridium botulinum favors anaerobic conditions with a pH of about 4.6 or greater, so it sometimes is found in home-canned jars of fish, beans, mushrooms, and low-acid tomatoes.

As it turns out, the spores of Clostridium botulinum can survive in honey, but they can’t germinate, grow, or produce toxin in the highly acidic and extremely hygroscopic environment of honey. The spores just stay in the spore form. If we eat them, they go through us just as they would if they were stuck on a carrot or potato. The spores are everywhere and not a threat to humans with two exceptions—infants and individuals with compromised immune systems.

Very young children, usually during the first few months of life, have an underdeveloped intestine that sometimes allows Clostridium botulinum spores to grow within the gut and produce toxins. The condition is quite rare, but it most frequently happens after the ingestion of honey. The infant digestive system matures early and within a few months, the spores will pass straight through a child just as they do in an adult. Although the vulnerable stage is short, to be on the safe side, it is recommended that parents wait until a child is at least one year old before feeding honey.

Some people believe that if the honey is pasteurized it will be safe to give to infants. Nothing could be further from the truth. Pasteurization does nothing to botulism spores. Nothing.

Both the actual Clostridium botulinum bacteria and the toxins it produces are easily destroyed by boiling for several minutes or by holding them at lower temperatures for longer times. The spores, on the other hand, are extremely resistant. Pressure cooking at 250° F (121° C) for three minutes will kill the spores, as will other combinations of temperature, pressure, time, and acidity. At standard pressures, it could take hours of boiling to kill them.

But honey is pasteurized at much lower temperatures. Most sources I found recommended heating the honey to 145° F (63° C) for 30 minutes. Some preferred 150° (65.5° C) for 30 minutes. One suggested that the temperature be brought to 170° F (77° C) momentarily. In this environment, Clostridium botulinum spores are going to take off their little t-shirts and luxuriate in the sauna-like conditions.

The only thing that pasteurization does to honey is destroy many of the nuanced flavors and aromas, as well as many of the phytochemicals, antioxidants, and nutrients. In other words pasteurization degrades the product yet provides no clear benefit.

Rusty
HoneyBeeSuite

Does your honey have that new-car smell?

I have been avoiding this post­­­­ largely because it speaks more to personal preference than stone-cold logic. Still, I was asked my opinion, so here it is.

I go to great effort to keep plastic out of my hives. First off, I can think of nothing natural about plastic, so if you are practicing so-called “natural” beekeeping, it makes sense to stay away from it.

Plastics are made from petroleum. The chemicals used to improve the flexibility and durability of plastic materials are called plasticizers. Plasticizers are nasty chemicals that tend to evaporate from plastic products as they age or leach into liquids that are contained within them—including food and drink.

The plastic becomes brittle and stiff as the plasticizers leave, and the surrounding materials pick up the smell and taste of the plasticizers. That “new car smell” or “new shower curtain smell” is the perfume of plasticizers. Worse, the migration of chemical seems to happen faster in warm or acidic environments—think beehive.

Some people are more sensitive to the flavor of leaching plastic than others. In blind taste tests, I can easily pick out honey that has been stored in plastic, and I’m sure other people can as well. Believe me, it is not pleasant.

Over my beekeeping years, I have tried to give plastics a chance. I have tried plastic foundation, plastic drone frames, plastic feeders, and plastic sections. But I have moved as far away from plastic as I can. When I open a beehive on a hot day I want to smell wax and honey and brood and nectar—not plastic.

Now if I use any foundation at all, I use wax. I’ve replaced plastic drone frames with homemade wooden ones, I’ve gone back to wooden section boxes, and I try to avoid feeding syrup by keeping plenty of honey on hand. Sometimes I feed pollen patties or candy cakes, but I stay away from liquid feed because of the plastic issue. (Although I admit to using the occasional baggie feeder when I’m out of other options.)

So there you have it—plastic-free beekeeping has become an obsession with me. I can understand those who feel differently because plastic is convenient, cheap, and readily available. Nevertheless, if you are selling honey to those who are interested in organic, natural, treatment-free, or environmentally friendly products, plastic-fantastic honey might not be the best choice.

Rusty
HoneyBeeSuite

Cooking with honey

How much honey does your average beekeeper eat? I don’t know about anyone else, but I don’t eat that much. Probably more than the average American, but still not much. When I do eat honey, I like it plain and still in the comb. A little cheese doesn’t hurt either.

So when people ask me for recipes, I’m at a loss. For me, when honey is heated or mixed with other ingredients, it losses its identity. Although it still tastes like honey, it doesn’t taste like tupelo, or gallberry, or maple. When cooked, it seems to lose the thing I like best about it—the regional flavor, the contributing flowers, the subtle shift that makes your own honey the best in the world.

What gets me excited is that first taste of a honey I’ve never tried. I am always up for a new varietal or a new regional honey. The flavors are especially strident when compared side-by-side with a honey I’m used to. To me, that is the real joy of eating it.

That’s not to say I never cook with honey. I have a barbecue sauce recipe that requires heaps of buckwheat honey—I’m sure buckwheat wouldn’t lose its molasses flavor if you boiled it for a week, so that one works for me. I also like a balsamic vinegar and honey salad dressing, but in all honestly, the balsamic takes over and the honey is just the sweet part.

Now, I’m certainly not saying you shouldn’t cook with honey. I’m just explaining why I don’t have a little tab up there with recipes for humans. (The recipes up there are all for bees.)

But if it’s recipes you want, try The National Honey Board. They have lots of free recipes, usage and storage tips, recipe conversion guidelines, hints on baking with honey, honey FAQs, and even nutrition information. If anyone knows how to handle honey in the kitchen, it the folks at the Honey Board. Give them a try.

Rusty
HoneyBeeSuite

And now . . . normal wax scales

Back in September I wrote about the wax scales that were so prominently displayed in a photo by Debbe Krape of Delaware. Since then Zachary Huang, a bee researcher at Michigan State University, sent me the following photo of a “normal” set of wax scales.

In my post, I wrote that, “The segments where wax is produced are equipped with smooth surfaces called mirrors or plates. The clear liquid wax flows in a thin layer over the plates where it hardens into little white disks that look like fish scales or ice flakes. If the disk remains in place, the bee may add another liquid layer over the first, creating a thicker disk.”

According to Zachary, the bee in Debbe’s photo had secreted four to eight layers of wax. The layers hardened one atop the other to give the very thick, blocky looking scales in her photo. I thought it would be useful to see the normal condition next to a very unusual one.

Debbe found her bee outside the hive. My theory is that the poor bee somehow got separated from her comb-building cohorts and the wax secretions just kept coming. Normally bees secreting wax don’t stray far from where they are working, but this bee was definitely in the wrong place at the wrong time, and her wax scales just kept getting thicker and thicker.

By the way, if you haven’t had a chance to see Zachary’s bee photos you can catch them at Cyberbee. Still more of his photos can be seen at his blog, Bee the Best. If you love great bee pics the way I do, Zachary’s work is a treat.

Rusty
HoneyBeeSuite

This photo shows normal wax scales being secreted by a worker bee. These are one layer thick. Photo courtesy of <a href="http://cyberbee.net/gallery">Zachary Huang</a>.
This photo shows normal wax scales being secreted by a worker bee. These are one layer thick. Photo courtesy of Zachary Huang.
This bee strayed from the comb-building area and was photographed outside the hive. The scales from her abdomen are probably 4 to 8 layers thick, an abnormal situation. Photo courtesy of Debbe Krape.
This bee strayed from the comb-building area and was photographed outside the hive. The scales from her abdomen are probably 4 to 8 layers thick, an abnormal situation. Photo courtesy of Debbe Krape.

A new use for old socks

The best way to melt beeswax is a mystery to me. It never fails to turn into a messy and arduous task, so I’m always interested in a new twist. Michelle in Tennessee recently reported that a beekeeper friend of hers uses old socks and a crockpot to get the job done easily and efficiently. His system goes like this:

  1. First insert the comb into the old socks.
  2. Next, tie a string around the end of the socks.
  3. Put the socks in a crockpot.
  4. Pour boiling water over them.
  5. Melt the wax on high heat until the socks let all of the wax out, keeping the slumgum inside. You can squeeze the socks with old tongs to get out even more wax.
  6. Let the wax come to room temperature.
  7. Take out the wheel of wax the next day.

When she tried this, Michelle’s wax came out a rich cream color, as you can see in the photo below. She said it worked so well she can’t wait to  try it again.

By the way, she stuffs the socks with wax and stores them in a mason jar until she has enough for a batch. The crockpot turns out to be sacrificial—reserved for wax-melting in the future—and the socks can be saved for starting fires.

I’m very tempted to try this system. I have frequently seen old crockpots at the Goodwill store, but of course if I’m actually looking for one, I’m sure it will be a different story. Still, her wax came out so nice I’m eager to give it a try.

Rusty
HoneyBeeSuite

Crushed comb stored in old socks.
Crushed comb stored in old socks.
Cleaned beeswax ready to use.
Cleaned beeswax ready to use.