The rich alluvial soils along the Mississippi River and tributaries like the Amite River provide a rich forage of native flora for countless bee colonies, who diligently turn pollen into the most wondrous golden goo. While humans have gathered and utilized honey for approximately 9,000 years, today’s local producers have found fresh ways to connect the community with this ancient ingredient.

“We’re only limited by hardware and our capabilities, not the bees,” says David Wilkinson, who co-founded Biggie Bee Farm in Port Allen with his late father, Doug. He adds that there is a constant demand for local honey. But jars of the viscous elixir on the shelves of local stores and at farmer’s markets are typically only one small part of any bustling bee operation.

When Annie Laurie Thompson returned to her home on the Amite River after an extended vacation, she discovered a massive hive in her carport. “It’s the tale you usually hear,” she laughs. “We had those bees removed by a local beekeeper, and from that experience, my husband and I got really interested in beekeeping.”

Within three years, their hives produced year-round, and Basic Bee, LLC began as a solution to the question: “What are we going to do with all of this honey?”

“We discovered a massive hive in our carport. It’s the tale you usually hear. We had those bees removed by a local beekeeper, and from that experience, my husband and I got really interested in beekeeping.”

—Annie Laurie Thompson

They were bottling it, giving it away, selling it and eventually began using the beeswax for other products. “Most local honey vendors start bottling honey, then they start making beauty products like lip balms and lotion, soaps and things,” Thompson explains. “So that was our natural progression.” Until one night, watching the last bit of simple syrup drip into her cocktail sparked an idea. Soon, she created Honey Cubes. Then came a request from a bride for honey-inspired wedding favors, and Basic Bee’s signature Bourbon Honey was born. Little did Thompson know how imperative such innovation would be to her mission of sharing honey.

After a bee sting led to a severe allergic reaction, Thompson was forced to step away from the hives she had tended for years. “I call it the big one,” she says, recalling the bee sting on her forehead that caused her eyes to swell shut. “It’s not often you get stung,” she says, noting that the severe reaction developed after several bee stings over the course of a few years. “I don’t want to make anyone scared of them because they’re very docile animals.”

Thompson gave up beekeeping on her doctor’s orders, but her passion for honey and its benefits didn’t fade. So she channeled her expertise into creating innovative honey-based products. The Honey Cubes led to the development of Cocktail Cubes in Sazerac and Mojito flavors. Then, three years ago, she added Smoked Honey to the Basic Bee lineup–a product created through a slow process of cold smoking that she has perfected at the LSU FOODii Lab. Sourcing honey from O’Neill’s Apiary on the Amite River helps her offer a product nearly identical to the ones crafted from the honey she once collected herself, Thompson says. “Look for new flavors,” she teases. “I’m always doing testing.”

The camaraderie among honey producers and beekeepers, along with the curiosity of chefs, hopeful homesteaders and gardeners, keep another bee farm on the other end of the Capital Region buzzing. Inspired by a National Geographic documentary, David Wilkinson ordered two hives. Soon, he was working part-time for local commercial beekeepers and honey producers. And by 2017, he and his fiancé Kelly Nguyen were jarring honey in their kitchen to sell at farmers’ markets as Biggie Bee Farm.

They also followed the typical progression of a beekeeping business. “We thought we were going to be the next Burt’s Bees,” Wilkinson says. But as they have honed in on the hives, honey has become a by-product of the business.

“Beekeeping is a big, broad canvas,” he explains. “You can be creative, and there are all kinds of things that you can branch off into, like the service industry, doing hive removals, and programs with schools or people who are homeschooling.” So he got creative, and leaned in to the work he loves most—being with the bees.

“It’s not hard to maintain a couple of hives, and there’s a lot of honey output. Two hives will probably supply the average family for the year.”

—David Wilkinson

Today, Wilkinson does hive rescues and works with a wide range of clients, including farmers, chefs, aspiring homesteaders, and even LSU Athletics, helping them establish and maintain healthy hives and gather honey.

Michael Johnson, the executive chef for LSU Athletics, is one such client. Johnson uses the natural source of carbohydrates in meals and snacks to fuel the university’s award-winning athletes. And around the region, hives that started at Biggie Bee Farm are changing the landscape. “We’ve seen an impact on people who have hives on their properties, over the years, getting more out of their gardens,” says Nguyen. “Once somebody gets chickens, bees are not far behind,” Wilkinson laughs. “It’s not hard to maintain a couple of hives, and there’s a lot of honey output. Two hives will probably supply the average family for the year.”

He and Nguyen continue to jar Biggie Bee Farm honey, stocking shelves at stores and supplying restaurants across the city.

Like honey from a dipper, the beekeeping industry ebbs and flows, demanding constant adaption and innovation. Local honey producers aren’t just preserving an ancient craft—they’re reinventing it. From crafting unique honey-based products to forging local partnerships, each one offers a new definition of what it means to be a modern honey producer.