Why is vanilla associated with being boring?
It’s always bothered me that vanilla has become so commercialized that people often overlook how incredible it actually is. Somewhere along the way, “vanilla” became shorthand for plain, ordinary, or uninspired, and I think that does this remarkable ingredient a huge disservice.
I was probably guilty of thinking that way myself before I started baking seriously and working with real vanilla beans. One of my favorite childhood memories is watching my dad eat warm vanilla custard made from a box of vanilla pudding, straight from the bowl with a spoon. Even then, I loved it. These days, I make vanilla custard from scratch with real vanilla bean seeds, and it’s on an entirely different level.
Have you ever tasted a homemade warm crème anglaise? Or stolen a spoonful of vanilla ice cream custard before it goes into the churn? There’s nothing boring about either of those experiences. The aroma alone is enough to convince you that vanilla deserves far more respect than it gets.
My go-to vanilla is Nielsen-Massey Madagascar Bourbon vanilla, and I love their vanilla bean paste even more. One of the most eye-opening vanilla experiences I’ve had was trying their trio of Madagascar, Mexican, and Tahitian vanillas. It was the first time I could truly appreciate how different vanilla varieties can be. Just like coffee, chocolate, or wine, each one has its own unique character and flavor profile.
When it comes to vanilla beans, I usually buy Madagascar Bourbon beans from Costco or from Saffron.com, a supplier in San Francisco that was recommended by Cenk Sönmezsoy in The Artful Baker. I’ve always had great experiences buying from them. They carry several varieties, and exploring the differences between them has become one of my favorite baking ingredients rabbit holes.
I especially enjoy experimenting with different vanilla varieties in recipes where vanilla is the star of the show: shortbread cookies, vanilla ice cream, crème anglaise, pastry cream, or a simple vanilla pound cake. When the recipe is built around vanilla, the subtle differences become surprisingly noticeable.
At the very least, I encourage you to smell different varieties side by side. Once you do, I think you’ll agree with me that vanilla doesn’t have to be “vanilla.”
