Our raw honey comes directly from our hives in Philadelphia. We harvest in small batches throughout the season, and what you taste reflects exactly where our bees have been foraging. This is unheated, minimally filtered honey—just strained to remove bits of wax and the occasional bee part, then bottled. Nothing is added, nothing is taken away, and the natural enzymes and pollen remain intact.
The flavor and color change depending on what's blooming. Early season honey tends to be lighter, often with strong notes from tulip poplar. Mid-summer brings darker honey when the bees work basswood and the urban forest canopy. Late summer and fall can surprise us with deep, almost molasses-like honey when Japanese knotweed is in full bloom. Every jar is a little different, and that's exactly how it should be.
What Our Bees Forage
Philadelphia's urban landscape provides more diversity than you might expect. Our bees work a rotating cast of nectar sources throughout the season, and each one leaves its fingerprint on the honey.
Tulip poplar is one of the major flows for us. The trees bloom in late spring, and when they do, the bees work them hard. The honey from this flow is usually light in color with a mild, slightly buttery flavor. It's the kind of honey people describe as "easy to eat by the spoonful." The flowers finish up by early June, and we're grateful for every drop they give us.
Basswood, or linden as some people call it, blooms right after. This is another major nectar source, and the honey has a distinct mintiness to it that's hard to mistake. The color deepens a bit compared to tulip poplar, and the flavor is more pronounced. When basswood is blooming, you can smell it from blocks away—a sweet, almost intoxicating scent that draws in every pollinating insect in the neighborhood.
Then there's Japanese knotweed. I know it's invasive, and I know most people want it gone, but it's an absolute powerhouse for bees. The honey is dark, rich, and has a flavor that divides people. Some love it, some don't. It's not your typical "honey" taste—there's an earthiness to it, almost a malty quality. I've been told that the way to control knotweed is to spray it while it's flowering, which would be devastating for colonies that depend on that late-season flow. We're lucky to have access to patches that aren't sprayed, and the bees take full advantage.
Mints of all kinds show up throughout the summer. Anise hyssop, catnip, wild bergamot—they bloom for weeks and provide steady forage when other sources dry up. The honey picks up subtle herbal notes from these plants, and I can always tell when the bees have been working mint-heavy areas. It's never overpowering, just a background note that adds complexity.
Milkweed, wildflowers, garlic chives, and dozens of other plants contribute to the mix. Urban foraging means variety, and variety means interesting honey.
How We Harvest
We pull frames when they're capped—that's when the bees have reduced the moisture content and sealed the cells with wax. This tells us the honey is ready. We never harvest wet honey, and we never take more than the bees can spare. If a colony needs their stores to get through a dearth or to build up for winter, we leave it alone.
Once the frames are pulled, we uncap the cells and spin them in an extractor. The honey flows out, we strain it through a coarse mesh to catch wax and debris, and then it goes into jars. That's it. We don't heat it to make it flow faster. We don't pressure-filter it to make it crystal clear. We don't blend batches to create a consistent product. What you get is exactly what came out of the hive.
What Raw Actually Means
There's a lot of confusion around the term "raw honey," mostly because there's no legal definition. For us, it means:
- Never heated above hive temperature
- Strained, not filtered—pollen and propolis remain
- No antibiotics or chemical treatments used in the hives
- Harvested in small batches and bottled without blending
- Nothing added, including water, corn syrup, or flavorings
Our honey will crystallize. That's normal and it's actually a sign that it's real, unprocessed honey. If it crystallizes, you can gently warm the jar in a water bath—just don't microwave it or boil it. Some people prefer it crystallized and eat it straight from the jar with a spoon.
Why We Don't Treat with Antibiotics
We've been keeping bees in Philadelphia since 2007, and we've never used antibiotics in our colonies. I believe that the answer to the varroa mite problem is going to be a genetic one, but we need to keep them in check until we get there. That's why we raise daughter queens from our strongest overwintered colonies and bring in queens that show signs of resistance.
This approach means we lose colonies sometimes. But it also means that the bees we keep are tougher, more resilient, and better adapted to this environment. It means our honey is clean, with no chemical residues. And it means we're doing our small part to encourage the kind of genetic diversity that might actually solve the problems facing honey bees.
Small Batches, Sold Directly
We don't produce thousands of pounds. We harvest what our bees can give us, and we sell it directly. When we're out, we're out until the next harvest. Some years we have more light honey, some years more dark. Some years the flavor leans herbal, other years it's more floral. That's the nature of working with bees in a city where the landscape is constantly changing.
If you're used to supermarket honey that tastes the same year-round, ours will be different. It's messier, more interesting, and more honest. It tastes like Philadelphia smells in summer—green and alive and a little bit wild.