Tech

Is this the 'suite' life? Making honey on the roof at the Fairmont Olympic

You wouldn't know it from The Georgian room or the lobby bar, but five boxes of bees were recently placed on the Fairmont's roof, where they will eventually house up to 50,000 bees producing 150 pounds of honey.

Is this the 'suite' life? Making honey on the roof at the Fairmont Olympic
Advertisement

by

Ronald Holden

You wouldn't know it from The Georgian room or the lobby bar, but five boxes of bees were recently placed on the Fairmont's roof, where they will eventually house up to 50,000 bees producing 150 pounds of honey.

It's the little things.

Ten  thousand little worker bees, as it happens, plus one queen, inside a  three-pound, $75 "box" of bees. Transfer contents into a 10-frame  Langstroth hive and you're ready to take on the world.

Three years ago, Corky Luster was a contractor installing Koehler  fixtures. When the construction market softened, Luster looked for other  ideas. He'd gone to WSU to become a vet and had done some beekeeping,  so he started the Ballard Bee Company with a couple of boxes in his  back yard. Today the company has 85 hives, most of them in backyard  gardens around town, and the homeowners — happy to have the advantages of  bees (flowers, birds, seeing nature-at-work) — pay him.

Ballard's Bastille Restaurant and Kathy Casey Studios use his honey, but  would beekeeping fly in downtown Seattle? Gavin Stephenson, executive  chef at the Fairmont Olympic Hotel, came to Seattle with a  mandate to expand the hotel's "lifestyle cuisine." Serving honey from  the hotel's own hives was an attractive alternative to pasteurized  commercial alternatives.

He called Luster and they worked out a deal.  Five brightly painted boxes went onto the roof, and, at the beginning of  May, the hives were populated. By the end of the year, each hive will  grow from 10,000 to 50,000 bees and eventually produce over 150 pounds  of honey. The hotel showed off its new hives recently.

"A bee can forage in a six-mile radius," Luster says. "We don't know  exactly where they go, but they're already coming back with pollen on  their legs." Once bees find a particularly attractive site, they do a  waggle dance inside the hive to tell the others how to get there. The  first thing they do is dive straight down from the roof, then they make  (pardon the expression) a beeline for their feeding  grounds.

Trees, gardens, parks, p-patches — anything that blooms is a  target. It's a short season in Puget Sound; the weather has to be above  55 degrees for these particular species (Italian and Carniolan western  honey bees) to leave the hive. "But just wait until blackberry season!"  Luster exlaims.

Seattle's a good place for urban beekeeping. Backyard chickens are  everywhere. Goats? Well, not so much. But bees, not a problem. Luster  has a two-year waiting list of households.

As exec chef,  Stephenson oversees food service for 400,000 meals a year. The rooftop  hives won't provide nearly enough honey. "What's important is that  we're doing the right thing," he says.

Donation CTA
Ronald Holden

By Ronald Holden

Ronald Holden is a regular Crosscut contributor. His new book, published this month, is titled “HOME GROWN Seattle: 101 True Tales of Local Food & Drink." (Belltown Media. $17.95).