In Search of Madeleines: Part 1 The Classics

~by guest writer AlbertCAN

What an interesting lot fragrance writers are, we chase after the perfect expression, the luminous declaration that can somehow make the intricate olfactory monsoon utterable. More offten than not we all try to crystallize the fleeting, unexpected, momentary rapture in time that can stay dormant for decades, only to be silently detonated in our cognition years later when we reacquaint with our old sensory fling. It does not help, however, that the collective human experience has, by and large, left us relatively few links between our sense of smell and language. When writers propose words such as florid, verdant, spicy, saccharine, we all are in fact connecting our experience with other things (flowers, greens, spices, sugar), thus defining one smell by another smell or another sense. Smells are our partners in crime, but we cannot speak of their true identities—instead, we can only reflect our feelings, thus proclaiming scents to be “transcendent”, “nauseating”, or “mesmerizing”.

Do we, therefore, perceive smells as indirectly as we describe it? Absolutely not: we literally become one with the aromatic molecules when we perceive them. In fact, it is the olfactory-verbal gap that prevents most of us from sharing our various sensory encounters. Perhaps it is exactly this inability that encourages us to appreciate literary gems that immortalize, as Shakespeare put it, the “suppliance of a minute”. The epitome of such eloquence, or as Chandler Burr once wrote, “our touchstone for the power of smell over memory”, would be Marcel Proust’s passage on petit madeleines in “Swann’s Way” (from the first volume of “Remembrance of Things Past”). Here’s the translated passage from Project Gutenberg. I have here also included a comical representation of the section by Stephané Heuet.

"Many years had elapsed during which nothing of Combray, save what was comprised in the theatre and the drama of my going to bed there, had any existence for me, when one day in winter, as I came home, my mother, seeing that I was cold, offered me some tea, a thing I did not ordinarily take. I declined at first, and then, for no particular reason, changed my mind. She sent out for one of those short, plump little cakes called 'petites madeleines,' which look as though they had been moulded in the fluted scallop of a pilgrim's shell. And soon, mechanically, weary after a dull day with the prospect of a depressing morrow, I raised to my lips a spoonful of the tea in which I had soaked a morsel of the cake. No sooner had the warm liquid, and the crumbs with it, touched my palate than a shudder ran through my whole body, and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary changes that were taking place. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, but individual, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory--this new sensation having had on me the effect which love has of filling me with a precious essence; or rather this essence was not in me, it was myself. I had ceased now to feel mediocre,accidental, mortal. Whence could it have come to me, this all-powerful joy? I was conscious that it was connected with the taste of tea and cake, but that it infinitely transcended those savours, could not, indeed, be of the same nature as theirs. Whence did it come? What did it signify? How could I seize upon and define it?

I drink a second mouthful, in which I find nothing more than in the first, a third, which gives me rather less than the second. It is time to stop; the potion is losing its magic. It is plain that the object of my quest, the truth, lies not in the cup but in myself. The tea has called up in me, but does not itself understand, and can only repeat indefinitely with a gradual loss of strength, the same testimony; which I, too, cannot interpret, though I hope at least to be able to call upon the tea for it again and to find it there presently, intact and at my disposal, for my final enlightenment. I put down my cup and examine my own mind. It is for it to discover the truth. But how? What an abyss of uncertainty whenever the mind feels that some part of it has strayed beyond its own borders; when it, the seeker, is at once the dark region through which it must go seeking, where all its equipment will avail it nothing. Seek? More than that: create. It is face to face with something which does not so far exist, to which it alone can give reality and substance, which it alone can bring into the light of day. [...]

And suddenly the memory returns. The taste was that of the little crumb of madeleine which on Sunday mornings at Combray (because on those mornings I did not go out before church-time), when I went to say good day to her in her bedroom, my aunt Léonie used to give me, dipping it first in her own cup of real or of lime-flower tea. The sight of the little madeleine had recalled nothing to my mind before I tasted it; perhaps because I had so often seen such things in the interval, without tasting them, on the trays in pastry-cooks' windows, that their image had dissociated itself from those Combray days to take its place among others more recent; perhaps because of those memories, so long abandoned and put out of mind, nothing now survived, everything was scattered; the forms of things, including that of the little scallop-shell of pastry, so richly sensual under its severe, religious folds, were either obliterated or had been so long dormant as to have lost the power of expansion which would have allowed them to resume their place in my consciousness. But when from a long-distant past nothing subsists, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered, still, alone, more fragile, but with more vitality, more unsubstantial, more persistent, more faithful, the smell and taste of things remain poised a long time, like souls, ready to remind us, waiting and hoping for their moment, amid the ruins of all the rest; and bear unfaltering, in the tiny and almost impalpable drop of their essence, the vast structure of recollection.

And once I had recognized the taste of the crumb of madeleine soaked in her decoction of lime-flowers which my aunt used to give me (although I did not yet know and must long postpone the discovery of why this memory made me so happy) immediately the old grey house upon the street, where her room was, rose up like the scenery of a theatre to attach itself to the little pavilion, opening on to the garden, which had been built out behind it for my parents (the isolated panel which until that moment had been all that I could see); and with the house the town, from morning to night and in all weathers, the Square where I was sent before luncheon, the streets along which I used to run errands, the country roads we took when it was fine. And just as the Japanese amuse themselves by filling a porcelain bowl with water and steeping in it little crumbs of paper which until then are without character or form, but, the moment they become wet, stretch themselves and bend, take on colour and distinctive shape, become flowers or houses or people, permanent and recognisable, so in that moment all the flowers in our garden and in M. Swann's park, and the water-lilies on the Vivonne and the good folk of the village and their little dwellings and the parish church and the whole of Combray and of its surroundings, taking their proper shapes and growing solid, sprang into being, town and gardens alike, from my cup of tea. "

Although I am saddened to report that lime-flower tea is largely no longer readily available nowadays, the heritage of baking madeleines at households still marches on. One clarification is required, however: while it's Proust who gets all the credit for making madeleines a household name, the origin of the name traces back to King Stanislas Leszczynski of Poland (October 20, 1677 – February 23, 1766), who, in the eighteenth century, tasted a tea cake made by a local in Commercy, France. He was so delighted with the cookie that he named it after the baker, Madeleine.

Culinary-wise the traditional madeleine is a cookie made from a sponge cake batter. While the batter gives the delicacy airiness and texture, while the tiny-bubbled crumb is très raffiné, the traditional madeleine also soaks up moisture rather quickly, resulting in a wan, soggy mess once left in room temperature for more than 24 hours. Fortunately, madeleine rewards patience, as its flavour can only be properly developed if the batter is properly chilled; therefore, you should plan ahead—bake them when you are ready to eat them! Besides, the delicate combination of lemon, vanilla and butter is so relaxing that perhaps it is more sane to reject the classic altogether. With this in mind I have an excellent recipe inspired by “Baking: From My Home to Yours” by Dorie Greenspan.
(NOTE: Madeleine performs best if the batter is properly refrigerated. The long chilling period will help the batter form its characteristic bump; 4 hours of refrigeration will suffice if one wishes not to witness the traditional protruded back—or simply in a hurry to devour the delicacy.)

Traditional Madeleines Recipe

Using madeleine cookie moulds, either in regular or miniature size, is best for this recipe. When baking multiple batches I prefer working with a pair of identical madeleine moulds at the same time so each tray can properly cool between each batch. I got my moulds from Williams-Sonoma but offerings from your local cookware store will largely suffice. (This recipe makes 12 large or 36 mini cookies)

2/3 cup all-purpose flour
¾ teaspoon baking powder
Pinch of salt
½ cup sugar
Grated zest of 1 lemon
2 large eggs, at room temperature
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
¾ stick (6 tablespoons) unsalted butter, melted and cooled
(Optional: confectioners' sugar, for dusting)Metric convertion table here.

1.In a clean bowl whisk together flour, baking powder and salt. Set aside.

2.In a separate large bowl combine sugar and lemon zest. Rub the sugar and lemon zest together with your fingertips until the sugar is moist and fragrant. Add the eggs to the bowl. Working with the whisk attachment, or with a hand mixer, beat the eggs and sugar together on medium-high speed until pale, thick and light, about 2-3 minutes. Thoroughly blend in the vanilla extract.

3.With a rubber spatula, very gently fold in the dry ingredients, followed by the melted butter.(short instruction video)

4.Gently press a piece of plastic wrap against the surface of the batter and refrigerate it for at least 4 hours, or for up to 2 days.

5.About 20 minutes prior to baking centre a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 400 degrees F or 375F if you want to play it safe. See this chart for temp convertions

6.Prepare the moulds:
•If you are working with regular madeleine moulds, butter 12 full-size madeleine moulds, or up to 36 mini madeleine moulds. Dust the insides with flour and tap out the excess.
•If you have nonstick moulds, a light even coating of vegetable cooking spray will suffice.
•If you have a silicone pan no prep is needed.

7.Spoon the batter into the moulds, filling each one almost to the top. Do not worry about spreading the batter evenly. (Do not overfill the mould.) Bake large madeleines for 11 to 13 minutes, and minis for 8 to 10 minutes, or until they are golden and the tops spring back when touched. NOTE: Keep an eye during baking as the fluted edges might get scortched easily.

8.Remove the pan(s) from the oven and allow the cookies to cool slightly before releasing the madeleines from the moulds. To separate the cookies, gently tap the edge of the pan against the counter and carefully pry the madeleines from the pan. Transfer the cookies onto a cooling rack—do not stack individual cookies on top of each other within an individual rack. Cool before serving or storing the cookies.

9.Repeat steps 6-7 (with a cold cookie pan) if you have extra batter at hand. If you wish to make additional cookies at this point repeat steps 1-7.

Serving: Serve the cookies as is when they are only slightly warm or when they reach room temperature.

Alternatively, if you prefer dusting the cookies with confectioners’ sugar before serving you must cool the cookies to room temperature before dusting. To dust the cookies, simply fill a baking sieve with a few spoonfuls of icing sugar: place the sieve directly above the cookies and gently, either with your fingers or with a spoon, tap the rim of the sieve until the cookies are evenly coated with sugar.

I prefer serving the madeleines with premium jasmine green tea, probably the next best thing to Proust’s lime-blossom tisane. Alternatively, these cookies can be served with espresso. I have been told that madeleines pair very well with Tokaji or Sauternes, although since my body doesn’t readily metabolize alcohol I cannot elaborate further. (I get rashes when I drink a glass too much. Strangely enough, I get no side effect when using alcohol-based fragrances...)

Storing: Although the batter can be kept in the refrigerator for up to 2 days, the madeleines are best to be eaten soon after they are made. You can keep them overnight in a sealed container, but they really are best eaten on the first day. If you must store them, wrap them airtight and freeze—they will last for up to 2 months.

With this in mind we shall conclude the first section: in the next section I shall cover the modern variants. If you prefer provoking Proust—stay tuned! Many thanks to Helg for making this post possible.

Photos: Madeleine from Flickr.com, illustration from ReadingProust.com, pan from Choos & Chews. Sources: “A Natural History of the Senses” by Diane Ackerman; The Project Gutenberg EBook of Swann's Way, by Marcel Proust; Illustration by Stephané Heuet; C.Burr’s quote from BaseNotes.net; recipes inspired by “Baking: From My Home to Yours” by Dorie Greenspan

L'artisan Parfumeur celebrates its 30th anniversary with Special Editions

Mûre et Musc, the emblem fragrance of L’Artisan Parfumeur is 30 years old this year. To celebrate the anniversary, L’Artisan Parfumeur created its first Extrait de Parfum/Pure Perfume, Mûre et Musc Extrait and a special Limited Edition for Christmas.

Created by Bertrand Duchaufour, Mûre et Musc Extrait de Parfum takes this most essence-heavy and intimate of fragrance concentrations and interprets the bestselling classic Mûre et Musc by using the finest, most exceptional raw materials.
Extrait highlights the fruity, musky perfume of blackberries warmed in the sun, sensual and enveloping. With the radiant sparkle of its top notes, the extract creates an effect of freshness with citrus fruits (kumquat, bergamot) and aromatic notes lead by basil. Spicy notes (pink and black pepper) strengthen its contrast and add to its enchantment. The heart has the fruity note of the blackberry dressed with more heady floral notes, of Turkish rose essential oil and iris absolute, which add richness and femininity. The base of patchouli and oakmoss are the signature of this typical chypre harmony. The smooth and velvety leather note with a hint of vanilla, brings distinction, the elegance of the extract and even more femininity.

The extract is presented in a 15 ml/0.5oz bottle with the seven symbolic facets of L’Artisan Parfumeur and a cap made of zamac finely engraved with the coat of arms. It comes in its own box of subtle warm gold and black and purple lacquers. A 15 ml refill comes with this special bottle.

This winter, for its anniversary, limited edition bottles of Mûre et Musc get dressed in wild and wonderful blackberry. Mûre et Musc Extrême does the same: the bottles are dressed for the occasion! Finely engraved blackberries ornate every facet, dark purple lacquer creates a stunning effect of light and shadow. Subtle shades of purple lacquer and warm gold illuminate the packaging.

Another new addition this Christmas, this time for the home fragrance collection, is Necessaire à Parfumer la Lingerie: a set of sachets and lingerie bags. A trademark elegant black L’Artisan Parfumeur case with three drawers contains four perfumed cushions and two lingerie bags. The materials used for the collection come from the best addresses of Paris : ribbons from Mokuba, fabrics from Lelièvreinto … The designs play with geometric forms, mix croquets, flounces, laces and satin in gold, bronze, silver and grey colors, timeless but also recalling the spirit of Fall/Winter 2008-2009 fashion. Also available as Petit Necessaire à Parfumer la Lingerie, a set of two scented cushions.

Available at L'Artisan Parfumeur Boutique:
1100 Madison Avenue
New-York, NY, 10028
T (212) 794 3600
F (212) 794 6241

Info & pics via press release

New Artistic Director for Chanel

When previous artistic director for Chanel Jacques Helleu died a little more than a year ago due to a prolonged illness that was kept private there was speculation as to who would succeed him and what would that entail for Chanel. Some of the rumours turned out to be just that and others materialized in what seemed to be a long thought-out process coming into fruition. Yet who would fill those elegant shoes remained a mystery, up till now. Chanel has tapped Ezra Petronio, editor in chief of Self Service Magazine, to oversee art direction for its makeup and watch businesses. The appointment reflects the categories’ strong growth trajectories, according to a company spokeswoman.

And who is Ezra Petronio, you ask! Born in New York city in 1968, he founded along with his partner Suzanne Koller the creative company Work in Progress in 1994. Simultaneously Self Service Paris-based magazine launched, a bi-annual, fashion and lifestyle magazine, to whome Petronio is Editor-in-Chief. He has phorographed hundreds of people posing in front of the flash of his 1970s Polaroid camera. He published a book, named Bold & Beautiful, sharing those intimate moments not just of the magazine's extended family tree but of the culture: designers, musicians, artists, photographers, writers, and thinkers of all stripes (establishment and avant-garde, the creative community and fashionable society). More than 270 portraits later (including those of Hedi Slimane, Karl Lagerfeld, Marc Jacobs, Tom Ford, Hussein Chalayan, Alexander McQueen, Donna Karan, Miuccia Prada, Marianne Faithfull, Jarvis Cocker, Tracey Emin, Terry Richardson, Philip-Lorca di Corcia, David Armstrong, Isabelle Adjani, Chloe Sevigny), Petronio was ready for a challenge: His new tenure at Chanel.
“We need to keep a cutting edge to our visual communications,” Chanel's spokeperson affirmed. While the spokeswoman was mum on details of Petronio’s contract, she said he will continue to work on Self Service and in his role as a director of Petronio Associates, a strategic and creative agency of which he is also one of the founders. In the past, Petronio has worked on beauty campaigns for Prada and Chloé, among others. Petronio Associates will continue to work with brands including Miu Miu, Yves Saint Laurent and Chloé. The Chanel spokeswoman said Petronio is currently settling into the role and becoming more familiar with the house’s heritage. “I’m sure 2009 will be a year when we’ll see interesting creativity in makeup and watches,” she added. Petronio will report to Maureen Chiquet, Chanel’s global chief executive officer.
Whether this status will later encompass the fragrance sector remains undisclosed as yet.

news via WWD as reported by by Brid Costello

H&M by Comme des Garcons – an EXCLUSIVE PRE-RELEASE review

~by guest writer Mike Perez

This week (Thursday, the 13th) Comme des Garcons release an exclusive collection of clothes, accessories and fragrance in H&M stores around the world. Comme des Garcons fragrances are one of my favorite subjects. Those on Basenotes know I own a large portion of the fragrance line and I admire the aesthetic, marketing and edgy style. I do have my share of fragrances that I cannot wear (Odeur 53 gives me a splitting headache) or simply don’t like (Sequoia [Series 2: Red] smells so much better on other people) but I always look forward to a new CdG fragrance release. So it goes without saying that I succumbed to the hype about H&M and purchased a bottle (prior to the release to the general public) un-sniffed, which I almost never do.

A healthy dose of fizzy cedar is the first note you'll detect when applying H&M.LOTS of cedar! Not as brutal as the ‘axed wood plank’ (or pencil shavings) of Gucci Pour Homme, but softened and diffusive (as if electrically charged by those crazy odd numbered aldehydes Turin speaks about - that smell like a snuffed out candle, mixed with cedar). It’s quite an unmistakable accord and without sounding too vague, it smells very Comme des Garcons-ish. Whatever that means! No living tree actually smells like this - in the ground or chopped up. It’s a synthetic replication of wood. Virtual wood, if you will.
It’s after a short while, that I noticed the incense – sharp, spicy, and oddly metallic. Have you ever sniffed real stainless steel cutlery, perhaps locked away in a cedar chest – right before you polish it with stainless steel cleaner? That smell. The non-smoky metallic incense gives the cedar notes a slight ‘gothic’ lift, but maybe this is just my olfactory association run free (a large portion of the H&M Comme des Garcons clothes are black?)
Comme des Garcons does incense accords extremely well (Scent One: Hinoki by CdG x Monocle is one of my favorite scents of 2008 and Avignon and Kyoto (Series 3: Incense) are just classics). The incense in H&M is the best part of the fragrance. I tend to avoid metallic incense scents (Nu by YSL actually hurts my nose when I smell it) – but this incense is not sharp and has a slight tanginess that blossoms into a sweet/spicy combination atop a weird synthetic accord (thinning agent?) that CdG have utilized before in Soda and Skai (Series 6: Synthetic) . As the fragrance fades away (4-5 hours later) I smelled a tiny bit of dirt covered vetiver.

I can’t help comparing H&M to a scent that features cedar / incense and synthetics (a little more effectively): the discontinued Rush for Men by Gucci. The similarity is unmistakable.
No new ground was broken with H&M. The scent is simple and I’m very surprised it’s not more edgy. The H&M department store customers (and CdG fans) will most likely attribute just enough ‘irony’ and ‘weirdness’ to H&M to give it an instant cool factor – but me personally I find it’s off-the-cuff strangeness rather accessible. The plain, clear glass bottle (the same exact bottle used in the Energy Series [Lime, Grapefruit and Lemon] by CdG) is much less stylish than the adorable, white die-cut ‘swiss cheese’ box it comes in. For the $35 price tag, it’s also remarkably affordable.
Notes: not yet available, to be updated.
$34.90 (US) for a 1 oz bottle.

Check out a video of Tokyo H&M / CdG launch.

Pics provided by Mike Perez.

Musk and Civet in Food: Challenging our Perceptions

 The seductive power of animalic essences in fragrances has been well known among people tuned into perfumes, especially of a vintage nature when true animalics were used in the formula. However how surprised would you be if you found out that not only your eau de toilette or extrait de parfum contained them, but also the delicacies that pass your lips? Yes, actual food and drink containing animalic essences such as musk or civet.

Musk was tentatively touched in one of the discussions I followed with some interest on a popular fragrance board the other day, as I had already experiences with the subject at hand: musk-flavoured candy, (called "musk candy" in Australia or "musk sticks" in other permutations) which seemed to create repulsion rather than attraction. Since everything in our medicine cabinet contains some form of synthesized musk (from soaps to cosmetics through bath oils and even the stuff we brush our teeth with!) and it's perenially a favourite of the functional fragrance industry to put in household cleansers, laundry detergents, and insect repellents, does it come as any surprise that artifically-flavoured food is also being aromatized with certain synthetic musk variants? Musk is an added component in fruit flavors, in chocolates, licorice, candies, chewing gum and even vanilla flavourings or puddings. 
The cozy, inviting smell of musk which we associate with warm, living and heaving human skin has an illustrious ancenstry that can be traced back to the Silk Route. Legends touch upon the tales of Chinese concubines being fed natural* musk-flavoured food so that during lovemaking their skin would sweat pure essence acting as a powerful aphrodisiac.

Is it any wonder then it has appeared even in a Lifesavers single flavour? That particular "musk candy" is an Australian idiosyncratic delicacy, much like Vegemite (the yeasty spread that rivals the British equivalent Marmite in the terrain of acquired taste). There also appears to be some form of edible Musk Sticks, by [supermarket private brand, as I learn from my Aussie readers] Coles, which appear to replicate the odour of incense sticks aromatized with musk. There is also the Beechies "musk gum" variety and Baba "musk melon candy". It's a whole industry!

Having been on the receiving end of a gift package that also entailed those "Musk Lifesavers", albeit of a different packaging (solid red with white lettering) and maker (not Nestle) than those linked above, sent by an Australian friend I can attest that soli-musk candies are not repulsive or nauseating. They're tinged with a "clean" soapy lace of almost aldehydic aftertaste that is certainly strange to encounter in a hard candy but which once you try you can appreciate for what it is.

Perhaps coming from a culture that traditionally and continuously has indulged in odours and flavours such as turpentine (the undertone of some ouzo varieties), of anise and mastic (used in several local liquors but also neat in bread and dough products), of cumin (an essential component of meatballs and pasturma) and of garlic (too numerous recipes to mention) along with an experimental spirit in cuisine that embraces squids, kalamari, octupus and snails cooked in red wine in all their squishy glory, as well as ripe cheeses that have mould, these come as no big surprise to me. And my musk affinities firmly in place, accounting for collecting musk fragrances of every possible nuance from the opalescent to the fetid, you might be warned that your own experience might be different. Still, it is an interesting proposition and worth keeping in mind should you find yourself faced with the option of tasting for yourself.

And what about civet in recipes, that fecal-smelling aroma that derives from the anal glands of the civet cat, farmed in Ethiopia and small erratic groups in other exotic locales at the moment? Civet highly diluted in fragrance formulae can have a marvellous effect of opening the bouquet, especially of floral blends, and thus adding texture, depth and radiance. An animalic touch that cannot be pinpointed as fecal as it truly is in concentration, yet is unmistakeably there: if you need proof open a vintage flacon of Jicky extrait de parfum and wait for it to make its pronounced magic appearence.

Although civet essence is not as wondrously diversified in synthesized forms as that of musk because the extraction of civet aromatic essence does not entail killing the animal ~and therefore has not had the chance to enter our plates in comparable droves~ civet does make an infamous appearence in drink: in coffee. This very special and most expensive coffee (£100 - £300 per lb. at time of writing), named Kopi Luwak, is produced by feeding the civet cats coffee berries which cannot be digested along with their food (much like we'd naturally dispose the bran of whole-grain cereals) and waiting for them to come out the natural way. The passing through the anal region stimulates the production of the anal glands secreting the valuable civet essence that is so prized in perfumery, so the beans gain a whole new dimension of animalic aroma. Further treating by roasting produces a coffee brew that is said to be among the very best, good to the last dropping so to speak. I admit although I have been intrigued by the idea for years and searching high and low for it locally among batches of Jamaican Blue Mountain and other assorted exclusive imports, it was only by the powers of the Internet and the intervention of a penpal that I came upon this link. I think I will take the plunge, bypassing the raw product we're invited to clean and roast ourselves, rather opting for a generous pouch. If on the other hand civet cats are too exotic for you, there is also weasel coffee - made from berries which have been regurgitated by, you guessed it, weasels.

And for those wondering, castoreum is also featured as a flavouring, in chewing gum and cigarettes no less, but its restricted use of the natural essence has probably put a stop to the practice. As to ambergris/grey amber, the divine marine/brine-like essence coming from the expulged cuttlefish residue in the digestive track of sperm whales, found floating in the ocean, I would be standing in line to taste something aromatized with its refined aroma. Brillat-Savarin recommended an infusion called "chocolate ambre" which was essentially chocolate drink heavily aromatized with ambregris. Heaven...

*The natural musk essence comes from Moschus moschiferus moschiferus or musk deer from the Himalayas but the cruelty necessitated for extracting the musk pouch from its genital region resulting in killing the animal has effected a prohibition on its hunting. Today musk essences at almost 100% are produced synthetically.

Pic Against the Grain by thatotherguy/flickr. Cartoon of civet coffee production spoof provided by Concord on MUA. 

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: The Musk Series (everything about the musk note, natural or synthetic, its cultural aspirations, its various musky fragrance types on the market)