There is cinnamon in my tea, on all the cookies and cakes we’ve been eating all these weeks, and we’re adding it in our Christmas roast and rotkraut. As a Guatemalan-German couple, planning our Christmas menu was a funny agreement of disagreements. However, there was one thing that was not in question: we’d add cinnamon to almost everything. As I sipped my tea while waiting for our Guatemalan-German mix to be ready, I kept wondering how we came to this: so many cultures around the world sticking cinnamon to all sorts of food, drinks, candles, Christmas tree decorations, potpourri, gum, toothpaste.
Origins
The cinnamon you use, whether sticks or powdered, comes from the inner bark of the cinnamon tree (genus Cinnamomum; family Lauraceae). These tall tropical trees (up to 10m tall!) are original from Sri Lanka and eastern Asia. Today, you most likely get your cinnamon from Indonesia or China. Although there are over 250 species from this genus, two species are the most commercialized as the cinnamon we normally use: Cinnamomum verum, “true cinnamon”, and Cinnamomum cassia, “Chinese cinnamon” or “Cassia”.
But how did it reach Guatemalan cuisine?!
There are records of cinnamon being used in traditional Chinese medicine from over 5000 years ago. Interestingly – as it is quite further away – in Egypt they also used cinnamon (or “cassia”) for the mummification process and as a tribute around 4000 years ago. Cinnamon was quite popular throughout Asia, parts of Africa, and Europe before the middle ages. Its origin, however, remained mostly unknown.
Cinnamon’s fragrant scent, color, and “secret origin” made cinnamon more valuable than silver for many centuries. Its origin and trade were kept somewhat secret for a long time, particularly around the Mediterranean cultures. As with many things, the mystery around such a sweet and rare spice added to its value and led to ambition.
In the 15th and 16th Centuries, as we well know, different European rulers sent “explorers” out to – among other things – find these rare spices and establish their own trade routes. Contrary to the Spanish vessels that ended up committing atrocities in what today is the Caribbean and Central and South America, the Portuguese did reach India and Sri Lanka. I do not mean to say they were not atrocious too, but let’s focus on the cinnamon for today.
The Portuguese controlled the cinnamon trade for a long time. Around 1640s the Dutch expelled them from Sri Lanka; in the late 1700s the British took over (“Ceylon”), more or less until Sri Lanka’s independence in 1948. The French and Spanish were not so happy with the Portuguese and Dutch having such a monopoly over cinnamon (and other Asian spices). They managed to get their hands on the plants and brought them to “the New World” to grow them there. This is an extremely simplified and “prettified” history of how cinnamon – and other non-native plants we still use today – reached different corners of the world and our kitchens since at least 500 years ago.
Ethnobotany
Almost every part of the cinnamon tree has some culinary or medicinal use (roots, leaves, flowers, fruits). What we mostly use is the inner bark of shoots. Each part contains a slightly different chemical composition. The roots even have a higher amount of some potentially toxic compounds like coumarin (toxic in high amounts). The bark, however, contains mostly cinnamaldehyde and eugenol – both of which give “our” cinnamon most of its medicinal properties.
I cannot confirm if the Egyptians that used cinnamon in the mummification process and the other cultures that used cinnamon to preserve their meats were somehow aware of the antibacterial and antimycotic qualities of cinnamon or if their use was because of the luxury it represented and its nice potent smell. However, western science today has explored a lot of this traditional knowledge and we can say for sure that a lot of the properties historically attributed to cinnamon are due mainly to the cinnamaldehyde.
Cinnamon is used worldwide not only because it smells like lovely childhood but also because of its anti-inflammatory, antioxidant, and antimicrobial properties; it aids in a variety of gastrointestinal problems; it reduces the risk of cardiovascular disease; reduces salivary anaerobes (that’s why we have cinnamon-flavored mouthwash and gum!); it’s even studied as an insect repellent. None of this is medical advice.
Traditional knowledge has already given us so much, but scientific studies continue to highlight new and potential uses in treating conditions like diabetes or even Alzheimer’s – and who knows what else we still don’t know about cinnamon!
It’s in our genes
I now wonder why do we love it so much. I’m sure there are people out there who might not like it, but I dare say a majority of us do. But why? It is no longer worth more than silver and I’m sure several of us have a deja-vu-like emotional reaction to the smell of cinnamon. I mean, there is a reason why many industries take advantage of this to also scent candles and decorations with cinnamon and not just edibles and medicines.
Throughout one lifetime we can have different experiences with food that can make us like or dislike some food or condiments more than others, and it can change throughout our one life too. A lot of what we enjoy (or not) also depends on what our mother ate while she was pregnant – and, of course, where in the world you were born. But that’s not all there is to it!
Our taste buds and olfactory receptors have evolved over centuries of trial and error and geographical and cultural differences to know what flavors and smells are “okay to eat” and which are not. Of course, we can know more now than our ancestors ever did, but some of those evolutionary “lessons” remain very present in our genes.
I’m talking about the associations that occur neurologically and the connection of our olfactory bulb to our limbic system.
Even though we now know they are very healthy, the aversion to Brussels sprouts is so common because in some parts of our brain “bitterness” is a “no-no”. For our ancestors, many available bitter plants were actually toxic and made them sick, and our instinctive brain maintains these associations or “genetic lessons” today. The instinctive part of our brain still reacts faster than our rational one (neocortex), which also explains why despite that common aversion, some people have “learned” to enjoy Brussels sprouts.
The smell receptors in our noses are connected to other parts of our brain through the olfactory bulb. This bulb is connected to our limbic system – the so-called “primitive brain” and the one that governs our instinctive behavior, memories, and emotions (mostly). In the case of cinnamon, it’s probably a combination in our brain of its medicinal feel-good properties plus the potent nice smell you might have associated as a kid over Christmas traditions. All this adds up to the nice feelings that surface when we smell cinnamon.
As if that wasn’t interesting enough, some studies hint at the activation of the olfactory-related parts of our brain when we read a word that reminds us of smells. So if you have read this far, you are probably craving some cinnamon drink or food by now!
I hope you enjoyed this brief ethnobotanical Christmas trip. What is your favorite December-food?
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Refs:
- Ranasinghe, P.; Pigera, S.; Sirimal, G.A.; Galappaththy, P.; Constantine, G.R.; & Katulanda, P. 2013. Medicinal properties of “true” cinnamon (Cinnamomum zeylanicum): a systematic review.
- Abdel-Maksoud, G. & El-Amin, A-R. 2011. A Review on the Materials Used During the Mummification Processes in Ancient Egypt.
- Hoover, K.C. 2010. Smell with Inspiration: The Evolutionary significance of Olfaction.
- González, J. et al. 2006. Reading cinnamon activates olfactory brain regions.