Upstate winters are relentless, especially for a Midwestern transplant, but even New York natives grow weary of single digit temperatures by February. My southerly relations often ask “Why on earth do you live there?” My answer, with a fair amount of sincerity: real maple syrup.
It’s as compelling a reason as any to endure months of New York snow, ice, freezing fog, blustery winds, and ashen skies. The promise of the sweet bestowal and the spring that follows is a touchstone of sanity during bleak winter days, when even generous amounts of brown liquor have no mood altering ability. I am ever in awe of the intriguing transformation from plain tree sap to spectacular condiment, and the considerable skill and physical labor of sugar producers. The unique result is unparalleled in flavor and versatility.
Genuine maple syrup cannot be outsourced. These production facilities won’t pull up stakes and move to far-flung places. The glorious amber flow is produced in only one corner of the world and Upstate New York is within it. Sugar maples are necessary, obviously, but it’s the North Country late winter freeze-thaw cycle that results in maple syrup while it ushers in the achingly pined-for spring.
We almost take the March tapping for granted Upstate. Real maple syrup is served at every firehouse, elementary school, and church pancake breakfast on any given Sunday in March. Sap houses dot rural roads, indicated by small signs illustrated with a bucket or maple leaf. Miles of blue tubing link hundreds of sugar maples in a sugar bush. Production ranges from people tapping a few trees on their property and boiling the sap on the stove, to multi-acre maple stands and sophisticated reverse osmosis machines and evaporators.
During the warming days of March the maple sap runs like water from the tree, and looks like it, too. It’s said that Native Americans would drink the slightly sweet liquid, accounting for about 12% of their daily calorie. Sap is collected, sometimes still in buckets, but more likely these days through vacuum tubing that transports the liquid to a collection tank. There is, at best, a six-week window for tapping. Once the maple tree buds, the sap turns bitter and we have to wait another year. About 50 gallons of sap are reduced to a single precious gallon of maple syrup.
There is that brown sticky stuff sold as “pancake topping.” It’s corn syrup with caramel color and artificial flavor and is generally disgusting. In Quebec, where 80% of the world’s maple syrup is produced, it is sarcastically called “sirop de poteau”- syrup tapped from telephone poles.
Spend the bucks on the the real stuff. You and your pancakes (and marinades, salad dressings, drinks, desserts, etc.) deserve it. Use it wisely and savor every drop.
There are, literally, a million hits for “maple recipes” on Google. Visit www.savor-ny.com for some of our favorites, and visit www.nysmaple.com for New York maple producers.
