Salt is Salt by Alice Lowe

Good Salt

In an episode of the British TV series Foyle’s War, a plastic surgeon treats soldiers’ burn wounds by bathing them in salt water, having found that badly burned pilots who had landed in sea water recovered more quickly than burn victims on land. I’d recently incurred a burn on my hand when I got splattered by a pan of hot oil on the stove. I ran cold water over it and held an ice cube to it, which I believed was the thing to do. My mother used to put butter on burns, but that’s been shown to make it worse, as, I now learn, does ice. My burn was minor and healed after several days, but it was still painful and inconvenient. I was intrigued by what I’d seen. Would salt water have eased my discomfort and hastened healing? My research confirmed that the episode was based on fact. A World War II surgeon, Sir Archibald McIndoe, made the discovery and pioneered the method of bathing burn wounds in saline solution—a mix of salt and water—to accelerate healing.

In his history of salt, Mark Kurlansky lists some of its uses from among the 14,000 that the salt industry asserts: treating sprains and sore throats, killing poison ivy, putting out grease fires, extracting spots from clothing, keeping cut flowers fresh, removing rust, sealing cracks, cleaning bamboo furniture, melting ice from winter roads, fertilizing agricultural fields, making soap and dripless candles, softening water, and dying textiles.

Above all, salt is essential for human life and health; sodium deficiency can lead to serious medical conditions. It’s common for athletes to incur a salt deficit from strenuous activity, causing their blood pressure to drop precipitously. In my early running days, I sometimes got light-headed near the end of a race, other times gripped by leg cramps. It was attributed to the loss of electrolytes: sodium, potassium, and/or magnesium. The problem was solved when I took salt tablets before a race, consumed sports drinks or chews on the run, popped peanut-butter pretzels at the finish.

Throughout human history, salt has been used primarily for flavoring and preserving food. As early as 6000 BCE, people boiled spring water to extract salts. Salting, brining, and pickling are ancient methods of food preservation, especially for meat, as it dehydrates the food to prevent the growth of bacteria. Salt enhances the taste of food by allowing other flavors to stand out more prominently.

A penchant for salty food can derive from both nature and nurture. Some have it and some don’t, in varying degrees. I have it. I’m partial to brined, pickled, and smoked foods: anchovies, caviar, and smoked salmon, kimchi, sauerkraut, and pickled asparagus. One of my favorite dishes is pasta puttanesca, canned tomatoes cooked with a salty medley of anchovies, olives, and capers, topped with salty Pecorino Romano cheese. I suspect the former boyfriend who salted everything liberally before his first taste had it. Once I oversalted his plate and waited to see how he would respond. He reached for the shaker, showered salt on everything, ate with gusto. He didn’t notice or didn’t mind, maybe even preferred the extra zing.

Studies have linked personality traits to eating habits and suggest that those who enjoy salt are ambitious and motivated, while those with a sweet tooth are more agreeable and compassionate. I’m not sure I buy into it, but I enjoy sweets as well as salt, especially chocolate, especially salted dark chocolate, so I like to think that I combine all those attributes. Then too there are the supertasters, said to be one in four people. They have a taste receptor gene that gives them more and stronger taste buds than average. When I learn that supertasters tend to dislike dark chocolate, I disqualify myself.

Bad Salt

It’s possible to have too much of a good thing. Excessive sodium consumption can increase blood pressure and the risk of heart disease and stroke. Most Americans consume far more salt than recommended by the American Heart Association, more than double the ideal daily limit of 1500 milligrams. Almost half of the adult population is believed to have hypertension. I’m one of the lucky ones with low blood pressure, which I’ve always believed gave me carte blanche where salt is concerned. But blood pressure can creep up over time. Mine has, and while I’m still in the low-to-normal range, I use a light touch when salting food in the kitchen and rarely add it at the table. I limit those brined, pickled and smoked treats, and I pause before I reach for the umami-rich fish sauce. My husband monitors his blood pressure, so I omit the anchovies from his salads, but I’m not ready to deprive myself.

Restaurants are notorious for oversalting food to stimulate taste buds and make dishes more appetizing. It works, as I’ve found when I make Caesar salad or pesto, or when I try to duplicate something I’d eaten at a restaurant. I add salt sparingly, and the results are acceptable but bland, lacking the oomph of the zesty and impressive dish I’d savored. I know the problem, but I’m reluctant to yield to the obvious answer. I try to compensate with spices, herbs, and citrus, but there’s no getting around what Samin Nosrat says in Salt Fat Acid Heat: “If food isn’t salted properly, no amount of fancy cooking technique or garnishes will make up for it.” I can exercise denial or profess ignorance when I’m eating out but I can’t bring myself to add more salt to my cooking.

New Salt

Salt used to be of uneven color and texture. Mark Kurlansky observes that: “After thousands of years of struggle to make salt white and of even grain, affluent people will now pay more for salts that are odd shapes and colors.” Now these gray, black, and red salts are coveted. Designer salt has been a food fad for more than a decade, and the flood of options has raised the bar for chefs, supertasters, and foodies. Gourmet salts are said to further enhance flavor and culinary experience, some to offer health benefits, most to command higher prices. Popular alternatives to the Morton’s Iodized that most of us grew up with—in the blue box with the girl in the yellow dress and umbrella and the slogan “when it rains it pours”—are kosher and sea salt, which may have larger crystal sizes than table salt and thus less sodium by volume. The greatest influx has been in the gourmet finishing salts that include red, black, and gray salts, fleur de sel (hand harvested sea salt), Himalayan pink salt, Hawaiian salt, Celtic salt, and various smoked and flavored salts. But they all have pretty much the same amount of sodium: salt is salt.

The wildly popular pink Himalayan salt is the most ubiquitous. A 2018 article in The Atlantic, “How pink salt took over millennial kitchens,” cited Instagram influencers claiming it would help regulate blood sugar and sleep cycles. But while it’s less processed than table salt and may contain trace minerals, it hasn’t been found to offer significant health benefits. It’s salt. And it’s mined from the mountains of Pakistan, not from the Himalayas.

Reader, I bought some. It’s lovely in the jar—the chunky crystals a blend of tints, from the palest hint of pink to a rose quartz-like hue to a darker salmon-pink. Coarsely ground onto sliced avocado and celery—two must-salt items for me—the color is barely discernable, and it tastes like any other salt. Or does it? I pick up earthy hints of mineral, most likely the power of suggestion, but now I’m ready to try another new salt experience.

Old Salt

Throughout thousands of years, salt has been a precious commodity, searched for, hoarded, and fought over. It has shaped trade routes, alliances, empires, revolutions. The Chinese Salt Wars in 3000 BCE were clashes over tax revenues that were used to construct and maintain sections of the Great Wall, which itself was built to protect salt production. Salt Wars between the U.S. and Mexico in the mid-19^th century were about contested rights to salt taxes in west Texas.

Salt has permeated our language and culture. In religious rites and mythology, it’s used as an offering to the gods, to represent purity, ward off evil. The words salad, salsa, and salami all derive from the word salt. As does salary, which means salt money, referring to early Roman soldiers who were paid with salt. We see it in idioms and axioms:

• To take something with “a grain or pinch of salt” is to view claims view it with skepticism.
• “Not worth their salt” originated in ancient Greece, where salt was traded for slaves.
• To rub salt into a wound is to make an unpleasant situation worse.
• Salt of the earth refers to decent, admirable people.
• Working in a salt mine means work that’s physically challenging or tedious.

Author Patricia Highsmith never explained the source of the title of her 1952 novel The Price of Salt (later adapted as the movie Carol), but it’s believed to signify the high cost of sacrifice one must make to pursue a taboo love, which in this story was a lesbian relationship. Some link it to the biblical story of Lot’s wife, who was turned to salt for looking back at Sodom, a city known for its wickedness. She had defied societal norms.

The word “salty” originally referred to seasoned sailors, crusty “old salts,” who used coarse language and told tall tales. It evolved into a pejorative slang term to describe people who are bitter, resentful, or easily upset, most recently adopted by Gen Z. At some point, however—I believe in the early days of the feminist movement—it took on a positive slant: someone described as salty might be spirited or sprightly, full of life. It was used both admiringly and condescendingly for active older women. Like feisty, full of piss and vinegar. I vividly recall a last-page opinion piece in an old issue of Ms. Magazine that was titled “I want to be an S.O.B. – a Salty Old Bird.” Proud of being outspoken, irreverent, even aggressive, and caring less about what other people think. I’ve searched for it in Ms. archives, but it doesn’t show up. Surely I didn’t make it up, but I like the intent and would gladly claim it. I’d be proud if someone called me salty.