Maple Syrup

The Syrup Maker

His gloves were stiff and tough, the canvas stretched and stained after a year’s worth of hard work. They hung knowingly from a hook on the wall near the door and they stared at him awaiting their morning routine. When he chopped wood they were there, keeping the blisters off of his palms. When he bridled the horses they were there, guarding his knuckles from the coarse hair and weathered reins. When he milked the cows they waited patiently, peeking out from his back pocket. They were his routine. This morning, however, they saw their own betrayal, as his wife handed him a soft, flexible, bright new pair of gloves as he reached for the door knob. He’d waited in anticipation for this day all year, as he did every year. Today he was more than the wood chopper, the buggy driver, the milkman and the farmer he was always supposed to be. Today he was the syrup maker.

The time for making syrup is always cold. It is not cold like the heart of January or even the raging beginnings of February. It is the cold of March. This is the type of cold that chills you on the surface, but it doesn’t reach into your bones. There is a breath of spring in the air, you can smell it. The wind doesn’t burn your nostrils. Instead now when it blows you can breathe it in and smell the tiniest whiff of mustiness, the quaint pungency of fall’s composting leaves that are waking up beneath the drifts of snow. When he could smell the air this way, he knew it was time. He knew that now, he was not the only thing that wasn’t frozen to its core anymore. Now the trees are waking, they are shaking off their winter sleep and are breathing deeply again. Their insides are alive, their hearts are pumping and it is not blood that runs within their veins, but a sweet and sticky sap. Like a doctor may have bled his patient, he hoists his bucket full of homemade wooden taps into the wagon and begins pricking the trees.

As his boots grazed through the drifts of late winter snow, he drove a tap into every sugar maple of proper age on his property, and positioned a metal bucket precariously under to collect the slow dripping spring time harvest. He relishes the time alone in the woods with the chilly air and the softly falling snow. He is a faithful man. Every year for the past ten years he has worshiped God, loved his wife, provided for his children, and poured every ounce of himself into working his farm and raising his animals. He is a devout man, he has followed God’s laws and he reaps the full benefits of living. And while he knows he should not crave for more, every winter he yearns for the days when he can venture out into the forest alone.

He is the syrup maker. In a week he will thrust open the dust covered shutters of the tiny sugar house on the back of his property. Intense clouds of steam will funnel out of the chimney, and pour into the cold, gray sky as he cooks and stirs the earthy brown brew into an ultra sweet, thin, runny syrup. His wife will trek back to the tiny wooden structure once or twice a day with a small wagon to collect what he has made and haul it up to the kitchen to preserve it. Other than those moments, he is alone. He is the syrup maker. His neighbors and friends will all be so grateful for his annual efforts. His community will thank him and though this expectation of praise makes him feel ashamed and he will repent for it, he cannot stir down the pride that bubbles within him. For two weeks a year, on the snow covered expanse of his rural Ohio property, beyond where his family can see him, and totally outside of the routine of his everyday existence, he is the syrup maker.


It is that time of year again. While I, among others, anticipate the arrival of spring and summer and the ensuing flood of fresh, seasonal produce, we are treated to the arrival of the first harvest of the year, an appetizer for seasonal eatings. Maple syrup is big here in Northeast Ohio, really big. On April 22, the 84th annual Geauga County Maple Festival will open in Chardon Square. And while probably most people who live in this area open up a bottle of Mrs. Butterworth or Log Cabin for their pancakes and waffles (let's be honest, I enjoy that on my Eggos too), if you pair the real thing with the right flavors, you are bound for a love affair with pure, local, Maple Syrup.

While I know that pure, local maple syrup can be tough on a girl with a tight budget, if you can afford it, use it. It is a thousand times better for you to consume than the flavored corn syrup variety of "maple syrup," and buying it locally produced is good for the local economy. I bought my bottle at Eddy's Fruit Farm in Chesterland, Ohio. You can find it many, many places, now even including your local grocery stores. Just make sure that if you're going to shell out the cash for pure maple syrup, that you pick up a bottle that was made in Ohio, as close to where you live as possible (nothing against Vermont or Maine).

These were so tasty, try them once, you'll fall in love. And for anyone who is interested, there is no enriched flour and no refined sugar in this recipe. It is also made with lowfat butter milk and only whole grains.


Multi-Grain Griddle Cakes
with Orange Butter and Geauga County Maple Syrup

1/2 cup (8 TBS. or 1 stick) of softened, salted butter
Grated zest of one whole orange
2 eggs, beaten
2 1/2 cups of lowfat 1% milk fat buttermilk
1/4 cup local, pure maple syrup
1/2 cup (8 TBS. or 1 stick) of melted, salted butter
1/2 tsp. vanilla
2/3 cup locally milled stone ground cornmeal
1 1/3 cup white, unbleached whole wheat flour (King Arthur brand is what I used)
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking soda
2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
3 TBS. quick cooking rolled oats
Oil for griddle
1 cup local, pure maple syrup

1. The night before you plan to eat or serve the griddle cakes, cream together the grated orange zest and the softened butter until the two are well incorporated. Store in an airtight container overnight.

2. In a medium size bowl, combine the eggs, buttermilk, maple syrup, melted butter and vanilla. Set aside.

3. In a large bowl, combine the cornmeal, flour, salt, baking soda, baking powder, cinnamon and rolled oats. Pour the wet mixture all at once into the dry mixture and stir until just combined and the batter is still lumpy. Let sit at room temperature for 30 minutes.

4. In the meantime, in a small saucepan, heat the 1 cup of maple syrup over low heat until just warmed.

5. Oil a griddle pan or frying pan and heat over medium high heat until water droplets bubble and sizzle when they are dropped onto it. Using a 1/2 cup measuring cup, pour batter onto hot griddle. Cook on one side until bubbles form evenly across the top of the griddle cake and the edges just begin to dry out. Flip and cook until the bottoms are golden brown. The griddle cakes will cook faster after being flipped so keep a close eye on them. Remove and keep warm, while you finish cooking all of the batter.

6. Serve hot with the premade orange butter, and the warm maple syrup.

Makes about 12 - 5 in. griddle cakes.