Harvesting sea salt flavor at the Jersey Shore

Inside the sweltering heat of a greenhouse near the Jersey Shore, where the afternoon summer temperatures can hit 160 degrees, a bit of the Atlantic Ocean is rapidly transforming before our eyes into one of civilization's oldest treasures.

"I'm literally swimming in salt," says Derrek Thomas, 43, leading us between the 2,000-gallon retention pools that line the new salt house he and his partner, chef Lucas Manteca, 38, built on Thomas' Windy Acres farm in Ocean View. "I can't get water fast enough."

A frost-like lace of crystals has already formed across the surface of one shallow black pool, the evaporating seawater just two weeks removed from the coast of Avalon where it was pumped into a truck at high tide. In just a few days more, Manteca or Thomas will burn his ankles upon entering the hot pond with a rake to sweep those finished crystals into piles as big as snow drifts. But it will be worth the early morning hours, pain, and hard labor if the market is right for their new Cape May Sea Salt Co., which officially launched in June.

This batch, once dried atop sheets, will yield 500 pounds of coveted white translucent flakes, whose delicate crunch and remarkable saline purity washes across the taste buds like a tumble of surf. At $36 a pound.

"A lot of my customers will be excited about this," says Jason Wilson of Samuels & Sons, a restaurant wholesaler that is considering distributing the salt. "The chefs we deal with are all about locally sourced New Jersey seafood and farm-to-table produce. I don't think you can find a better salt to fit that need."

Harvesting sea salt is an ancient art dating back 8,000 years. But Manteca and Thomas are the first to do it commercially in New Jersey. Set against the backdrop of an American artisan food awakening after more than a century dominated by industrial Morton's salt, they are part of a rising trend.

"Sea salt has been a key item for years," says Louise Kramer of the Specialty Food Association. "But now people are getting more selective. There's so much interest in where our food comes from and the people who make it. We're seeing a lot of salt from specific places that evoke a specific area or taste. Like terroir."

Or "merroir," as salt expert Mark Bitterman puts it. Bitterman, the author of Salted: A Manifesto on the World's Most Essential Mineral, with Recipes (Ten Speed Press, 2010), says that artisan salt companies are a new but rising niche in the United States: "Even five years ago, there was almost nobody. Now there are dozens."

The provenance of a salt, he says, absolutely plays a role in flavor. The famous fleur de sel from western France is known to be "briny," while Adriatic salts can be "sweet," Filipino salts are "warm and round," while Hawaiian salt is "buttery." East Coast salt? They can have a "brashness. . . . But if you're going to sprinkle just a few beautiful crystals on food, a little bit of swagger is great."

The Argentine-born Manteca began perfecting his quest to harvest the ocean's minerals about six years ago, when he owned a Stone Harbor BYOB actually called Sea Salt: "I thought, 'How cool would that be to have salt I made myself on the table?' "

He isolated a sweet spot off an Avalon jetty where the early morning water is purest at incoming high tide and the rocks protect it from movement that might cloud the clarity. After dabbling in faster boiling methods, he began refining slower solar evaporation, building an open-air basin and gauzy fabric to experiment with the effects of wind exposure and humidity.

Manteca, who now owns the Red Store in Cape May Point and Quahog's in Stone Harbor, partnered with Thomas this fall after it became clear there was room inside Windy Acres' two acres of organic vegetable and flower greenhouses. They've recreated Manteca's prototype on a much larger scale - with large pools, multiple filters, and movable sail-like covers - allowing them control over the elements to craft a deliberately coarse salt with a flaky texture that retains just the right humidity.

"Anybody can go down to the ocean, dip a bucket in and burn it down to a pretty salt with fossil fuels from the Middle East," Bitterman says. "But the challenge of making salt in a sustainable way is an important one to address. And if [Cape May Sea Salt Co. is] doing it solar, which is the hard way and the right way, and they've got a flaky salt that's local - that's badass. That's cool. That's a triple whammy."

Bitterman has not yet tasted the Cape May salt, but he allays the common concern that seawater in general might not be a clean source: "By definition salt does not bio-accumulate. The crystals form a very strong bond and pollution is not going to get in there. Whatever you're getting in your meat is 1,000 times worse than anything you'll get from your salt."

Industrially made sea salt can appear to be much cheaper on face value, Bitterman says, but it costs only about 4 cents a pound to produce. The Cape May Sea Salt sells for $9 for a 4-ounce package. However, this kind of coarse and flaky salt is used primarily as a finishing salt, and it goes a long way. Bitterman also says the production methods result in salts of vastly different qualities.

During a recent visit to Trapani in Sicily, he compared a mass-produced sea salt with a handmade version from an ancient saltworks nearby and "they didn't resemble each other at all. The machine-made one was hot and flat with a hard, dull crunch. The other was a lush, pliant crystal with dynamic vibrancy. And it's the technique that's doing that."

That kind of flavor is exactly what matters to a discerning customer such as chef Christopher Kearse of Will BYOB, who says he has replaced English Maldon salt in his kitchen with the salt from Cape May.

"I'm not going to season my soup with it, because it's expensive. But we use it on almost every other dish because it has more flavor and more texture," Kearse says. He also likes how the salt's high-moisture content resists dissolving too quickly under heat. "We used to use kosher salt to get a crust on seared food. With this salt, imagine that times five."

"I also know where it comes from," says Kearse, whose former employee Craig Russell now cooks with Manteca. "It's fun to know my old sous-chef makes it for me."

Such positive early feedback and a reaffirmation of the power of the local food network is encouraging for Thomas and Manteca, who say they hope to produce up to 1,000 pounds a week until cold weather slows production in November. They also make a smoked version and have begun playing with flavor infusions.

"Apart from the restaurants, this is all I'm thinking about - being connected to the ocean," Manteca says. "And I've got big dreams."

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Makes about 100 caramels

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Vegetable oil

11/2 cups sugar

1/4 cup light corn syrup

1 cup heavy cream

5 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 teaspoon fine sea salt, such as Cape May Sea Salt, plus extra for sprinkling

1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

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1. Prep the pan: Line an 8-inch square baking pan with parchment paper, allowing it to drape over 2 sides, then brush the paper lightly with oil.

2. Boil the sugar: In a deep saucepan (6 inches wide and 41/2 inches deep), combine 1/2 cup water, the sugar, and corn syrup, and bring them to a boil over medium-high heat. Boil until the mixture is a warm golden brown. Don't stir - just swirl the pan.

3. Heat the cream: In the meantime, in a small pot, bring the cream, butter, and 1 teaspoon of fleur de sel to a simmer over medium heat. Turn off the heat and set aside.

4. Finish the caramel: When the sugar mixture is done, turn off the heat and slowly add the cream mixture to the sugar mixture. Be careful - it will bubble up violently. Stir in the vanilla with a wooden spoon and cook over medium-low heat for about 10 minutes, until the mixture reaches 248 degrees F (firm ball) on a candy thermometer.

5. Fill the pan: Very carefully (it's hot!) pour the caramel into the prepared pan and refrigerate for a few hours, until firm.

6. Cut the caramel: When the caramel is cold, pry the sheet from the pan onto a cutting board. Sprinkle the caramel with sea salt. Cut into bite-size pieces, about 1 inch by 1/2 inch. (Start by cutting the square in half, then continue cutting in 1-inch widths.) It's easier to cut the caramels if you brush the knife with flavorless oil such as corn oil.

7. Wrap the candies: Cut wax paper or parchment paper into 4-by-3-inch pieces and wrap each caramel individually, twisting the ends of the paper. Store the caramels in the refrigerator; serve chilled.

- From Ina Garten in Food Network Magazine

Per Serving:

28 calories; no protein; 4 grams carbohydrates; 4 grams sugar; 1 gram fat; 4 milligrams cholesterol; 29 milligrams sodium; no dietary fiber.EndText

claban@phillynews.com 215-854-2682 @CraigLaBan www.philly.com/craiglaban