Collecting Syrup

I like to collect stuff. Fortunately, I usually grow tired of one thing and want to move on to the next thing, so my collections are never extensive, but they can also become clutter quickly.

To properly store a collection requires garage, floor or shelf space, depending, of course, upon the items coveted. Once I even purchased some wine racks in anticipation of starting a wine collection. That was before it became apparent that the only kind of wine I like (white zinfandel) isn’t even considered wine by high-browed wine snobs (I say that using the most affectionate meaning – really).

Currently, I am toying with the idea of acquiring various bottles of maple syrup. My private stock would be stored in the cool of the cellar (syrup cellar?) provided my wife would allow it. I’m not sure if others are doing this or if there are syrup tastings offered in quaint villages situated near maple forests.

I know I’m not alone in my fondness for the boiled down tree nectar, because like Buddy the Elf, I believe the addition of it can improve just about anything. But unlike Buddy, I don’t have a bottle with me at all times – although recently I did purchase a small plastic jug of it that could be easily transported and hidden from hyper-sensitive dinner hosts. In the meantime, it makes a great sipping bottle – kind of like a small flask.

I have been stuck on sugary sweetness for most of my life.  As a kid, I would come into the house and grab sugar cubes, or a spoonful of brown sugar (I still will partake of that goodness from time to time). I was putting sugar on spaghettiOs forty years before an elf applied syrup to spaghetti.

I spooned sugar liberally on cottage cheese, pancakes (on top of the syrup), cold cereal (Cap’n Crunch, Super Sugar Crisp, Frosted Flakes, etc.) and hot cereal (oatmeal, malt-o-meal, coco wheats). I also made cinnamon-sugar toast and sugar sandwiches (two slices of bread, butter and sprinkle sugar to taste – serves one). It wasn’t until I was married when I learned most everyone else was missing out on the sweet side of life.

But now, as an adult, my tastes are more refined and sophisticated – I add pure maple syrup to my cup of tea. Up until recently I was using tablespoons (3-4 per cup) to ladle the natural sweetener, but I was forced to change to teaspoons and cut back the application (2-3), as the bottles were being emptied rather quickly.

Through exhaustive research, I have learned that most of the maple syrup comes from Canada, while Vermont is the largest producer in the United States.  This has led me on a quest to find the finest maple syrup available. Having previously detested grocery shopping, I now like to go and see what maple label they have on their shelves.

Genuine maple syrup is available in bottles and jugs with fancy designs (maple leaf, log cabin, covered bridge, etc). It makes a great gift.

Like any fine wine, maple syrup has its own characteristics and quality, depending upon the region where the maple sap is drawn and boiled. For example, I found the Canadian syrup pleasant without being over-powering. It had a rich, robust flavor that whispered of clear, cool nights found north of the border. 

The bottle from Vermont had a good nose with a back-east bouquet. Its dark amber color was born from the deep Vermont snows that insulate the trunks of the maple trees.  The syrup has an old-fashioned vigor that makes no apologies for its flavor.

Two weeks ago I was given some that had been bottled just outside Belle Plaine. As I let the syrup gather on my tongue, I could taste the rustic river wood with notes of clover and honey. It was heavy, yet its texture had a smooth edge; the finish was surprising and the warmth lingered like a favorite flannel shirt.

I don’t pretend to know all there is about how maple syrup is made – I’m just glad someone goes through the work to collect the sap.