90 deliciousmagazine.co.uk
TURN THE PAGE FOR JOHN’S RECIPES
“Palmtreeswavetogreetyou
andvast,sweepingfieldsof
sugarcanedanceinthewind”with sugar from the West Indies,
and around 400 Mauritian sugar
factories were in operation. Today,
most of their brick chimneys are
ghosts trapped in the middle of
fields, as only three sugar factories
remain on the island. I spent an
afternoon at one of them.FROM HARVEST TO GRAIN
In the grounds of the factory, the
peculiar cane smell is yeastier –
like Marmite stirred with molasses.
After donning a factory uniform,
I was taken to the area where
freshly cut cane arrives – the scale
of the place was staggering. The
scent quickly grew familiar, while
the chugs and churns of cogs,
blades and other machinery muted
all conversation.
Truckloads of sugar cane were
pushed onto a conveyor belt, then
carried to a shredder to be crushed,
before being mixed with
water to extract the sweet
juice. Impurities were
removed by adding lime and
heat, reducing the mixture to
a thick, amber syrup. Next,
this was crystallised by mixing it
with seed (tiny sugar crystals) and
cooling it – I learned the size of the
finished grains depends on how
long the syrup is left to cool and
crystallise, after which it makes its
way to giant centrifuges that spin
to extract the liquid, leaving the
much drier sugar behind.
After being blasted with 32°C
air the sugar became much softer
and free-flowing. That’s the process
in a nutshell, but it’s all operated
by blokes with computers behind
glass screens. Impersonal and
industrial. I was left wondering if
there was any personality left in
the sugar industry.WHAT ABOUT THE FARMERS?
As a dairy farmer’s son, I was keen
to learn more about the people
who grow cane, so I headed tomeet Devesh Dukhira of the
Mauritius Sugar Syndicate (MSS),
a non-profit organisation that
markets all the sugar produced
in Mauritius and returns
a proportionate share of the
revenue to the producers.
Devesh told me the main
producers are the island’s three
remaining factories – it is, after all,
an industry that employs over
25,000 people in Mauritius – but
the remaining 18% are small
farmers who are cultivating cane
on around 10 hectares of land.
The primary purpose of the
MSS is to capture the best profits
for the producers, and by looking
at the global sugar market it
can maximise returns. This is
why Mauritian sugar is now
synonymous with ‘special sugar’,
which accounts for around 130,000
tonnes of the 325,000 or so thecountry produces annually.
Special sugar is different to white
refined sugar. It’s muscovado –
light and brown – and molasses
sugars, which are minimally
processed and retain natural
nutrients and colours. It’s the
Billington’s sugar that, following
a taste test I took part in many
years ago, I chose to use at my
cookery school. The difference
is remarkable: regular sugar is
sweet but has no complexity,
whereas special sugar is treacly,
layered in flavour and softer in
texture. The two don’t compare.THE INDEPENDENT PERSPECTIVE
Though I’d had quite the education
in sugar by this point – including a
little sweat-inducing cane-cutting- I wanted to hear from an
independent farmer about their
own experience. The next day
I found myself in a small room
above a bank in Triolet with the
Century Cooperative Credit
Society. Few of them spoke
English, and my rusty French
didn’t really help as I tried to ask
them about their lives and how
the cooperative helps them.
Just as I was about to lose hope,
a man stood up to speak. In decent
English he told me the cooperative
had taught him everything he
needed to know about growing
sugar cane: planting, equipment,
health and safety, labour rights
and regulations. The man’s name
was Sunhil, and he seemed proud
to work for himself under the
guidance of the cooperative and
the protection of the MSS. There
was something different about
him, and it wasn’t just the fact
he spoke English. At 40, he was
one of the youngest in the
room, which made me
question whether the
ageing population of
farmers was being
renewed. The cooperative
informed me that, although there’s
been little interest from the younger
generations of farming families in
the past, this is changing (with the
cooperative’s help), and more young
people are drifting back into
agriculture. Perhaps that sweet
smell in the air is hope.A CHANGE OF HEART
Before my trip to Mauritius, I saw
sugar as a basic ingredient – I’d
tear bags open, not caring if
a little spilled out. But then I met
the people who grow the grass,
the workers who transform it from
cane to crystal, and I even had a
go at bagging it up. Next time
I sweeten my tea or devour a wedge
of cake, I’ll think about the people
who laboured so hard to produce
it. Every soft-flowing grain is
valuable; every grain tells a story.