Salt: A World History: although common and inexpensive today, salt has been `one of the most sought-after commodities in human history.'

0 Comments | Insight on the News, March 11, 2002 | by Amanda Watson Schnetzer

In Manhattan's venerable Dean and Deluca market, shoppers can find 14 varieties of salt, all appealing in their simple wrappings, ranging in price from $2.50 for three pounds of Morton's Kosher Salt to $25 for 17 ounces of France's Fleur de sel. For this immodest investment in Brittany's "flower of salt," the maker guarantees a delicate, violet flavor from the sparkling grains once "reserved to royal tables," as the label claims.

Indeed, Mark Kurlansky reveals in Salt: A World History (Walker & Co., $42, 352 pp) that France's rock once was prized by kings and traders. As demand for salted foods grew during the Middle Ages, the Bay of Bourgneuf "became a leading salt center" and its cities and islands "major sea salt-producing areas." To boot, they were near the northern ports of Brittany, which the French convinced to join their kingdom in exchange for an exemption from the "hated gabelle," or salt tax.

But Kurlansky's story does not begin and end on the Atlantic Coast. It reaches back to ancient China, where historians discovered "the first known instance in history of a state-controlled monopoly of a vital commodity," and extends forward to modern America, now "both the largest salt producer and the largest salt consumer" on the globe. Navies relied on salted fish and meat during long expeditions. Nations and kings imposed salt taxes to fill their dwindling coffers and to finance wars.

Discerning readers might shudder when, in the introduction, the author launches into a passage about the Jungian psychologist Ernest Jones and his theories on salt and sexuality -- or, more precisely, on "the human obsession with salt -- a fixation that [Jones] found irrational and subconsciously sexual." Titillating as this notion might be, it corrupts salt's straightforward symbolism for purity and preservation. And to be fair, Kurlansky shows proper deference for salt's religious interpretations.

For Jews, salt represents God's covenant with Israel. As the Old Testament book of Leviticus explains, God told Moses that, "You shall season all your cereal offerings with salt; you shall not let the salt of the covenant with your God be lacking." For Christians, the New Testament touts salt as a sign of wisdom, and in Roman Catholic rites it has symbolized cleansing and purification. Other groups and peoples have relied on salt to ward off evil. The Japanese, for example, throw salt onto the stage before a performance of traditional theater.

Salt has inspired public policy in America as well. After the American Revolution, an English block on trade with the enemy led to salt shortages in the United States. In response, when the U.S. government encouraged domestic production by offering a bounty of 33 cents for every bushel, the Atlantic Coast soon became dotted with private saltworks. Years later, the building of the Erie Canal would be financed with a tax on salt of 12.5 cents per bushel.

Today, two U.S. companies, Cargill and Morton, dominate the salt market. Over time, they have purchased independent companies around the world and enlisted them in meeting both individual and industrial needs. More recently, small entrepreneurs have revived speciality saltworks to meet the demands of cooks and gourmands.

In man's unending pursuit of riches, however, salt has given way to other natural resources and technologies. As Kurlansky writes, "the story of a quest for wealth, given enough time, will always seem like the vain pursuit of a mirage." Perhaps the same fate awaits oil and the Internet.

AMANDA WATSON SCHNETZER IS A WRITER IN NEW YORK.