A Spring ritual: Maple syrup making

It’s definitely that time of year. A Spring rite of passage. I can remember traipsing around the northwoods with my grandfather, looking for pails full of maple sap hanging from trees scattered around his and his neighbors’ property. It was fun for a kid, a bit of a treasure hunt looking for the fullest pail. And, the whole process was full of magic. Grandpa had me taste the sap once, and it tasted like water, perhaps with a “natural” overtone; I can only imagine the sap-tasting cheat sheet, fashioned after wine connoisseurs, and what it might say: “watery”, “light twig aftertaste”, “very watery.” Then, bringing the pails back to the boiler for evaporation, the stoking of the fire, the smoke, the heat, and voilà, thick, brown, sweeter than sweet, syrup trickles into the cool little glass bottles. Nature’s Magic Brew. I loved it.

So, of course, come 2012, maple syrup making, or “sugaring”, would be part of My Year of Plants. I had some of my grandfather’s equipment, including his old “dipper” and hydrometer, so I wouldn’t be starting from scratch. In addition, we still had most of the same family land up north, and friends on nearby property who were actively involved in the industry, both as a money making venture and hobby. I would have the chance to re-learn a lot.

One problem surfaced. Mother Nature was not in agreement with my 2012 sugaring interests. A bizarre winter, thought to be partly or completely due to a La Niña phenomenon, brought 70, even 80 degree, temperatures in February and March, grinding the sap flow to a halt. Maple syrup making is full of superstition, and daily gossip centers on when and how much the sap will flow, which trees will be the biggest producers, if the syrup will taste good this year, what color it will be, etc. All of these factors are very hard to predict, but some producers develop a knack for reading some of the signs in nature that give them some wisdom in answering these questions. I do not understand many of the relevant variables, but the simple rule, and one which was lacking in this year’s mild temperatures, is that a cold (below freezing) night and subsequent warm (above freezing) day helps the sap to run well. The year 2012 may very well be known as "the year that the sap stayed put."

Hence, some of the commentary on this fascinating art and the photos you will see if you purchase the final book, are from my 2011 sugaring experience. To give you a little taste, picture yourself in an 8x10 foot sap boiling shack, full of steam, about 110 degrees hot, participating in a ritual that predates the arrival of Europeans in North America, and one that continues with almost every pancake, waffle or French toast breakfast!