FOOD | Julianne Glatz

Drip, drip, drip . . . It was late February. After a long, cold winter, it was first day that hinted spring was on the way.

Drip, drip, drip . . . It had been below freezing overnight, but by noon the sun was warm. I took my then-4-year-old daughter, Ashley, outside to enjoy the beautiful sunny day, the most extended outdoor excursion we’d had since we’d built a snowman a few weeks before.

Drip, drip, drip . . . We could hear drips all around us, but where were they coming from? It hadn’t rained the night before. The blue sky was completely cloudless.

Then drops began landing on our arms, and Ashley touched her tongue to one. “It’s kind of sweet!” she said. Of course – the sap was flowing. When we moved into our old farmhouse, there were 22 sugar maples on our 2.5 acres. The trees weren’t an unalloyed pleasure; there was little space on our wooded lot for the garden we wanted. Even so, in spring when their lacy strands of pale-green flowers dangled above the wildflower-carpeted ground, when their shade in summer provided a respite on even the hottest days, in fall when they formed a canopy of shimmering gold, and in winter, when more cardinals than we could count perched on their snow-covered branches, we weren’t complaining.

Always eager to expose my children to new experiences, I said to Ashley, “Remember when we went to Lincoln Memorial Garden and saw them making syrup? We can do the same thing with our own trees. They have taps there for sale; let’s go get some, and we’ll make our own syrup.”

Little did I know what I’d let myself in for.

On that sunny day we purchased about three dozen taps (large trees can support multiple taps) and set out to make our own syrup. We tapped the trees, cleaned plastic gallon jugs to hang on the taps, and watched as the sap dripped steadily into them. The next morning, all the jugs were overflowing. “This is great!” I thought. I knew that it takes about 40 gallons of sap to make one gallon of syrup. “We’ll have enough syrup to last us all year.” We dumped the slightly sweet watery liquid into big pots, put the jugs back on the taps, and brought the pots into the kitchen to boil down. By mid-afternoon, the sap was nowhere near becoming syrup, and when I looked outside I could see that the jugs were once again overflowing.

I’d opened a Pandora’s box. Ashley and our two older children were initially thrilled to help bring in the sap, but their enthusiasm quickly faded as day after day they had to lug in jug after jug. Our old farmhouse kitchen wasn’t up to the task, either. There wasn’t an exhaust fan over the stove, and the syrup literally boiled the finish off the kitchen cabinets.

We didn’t have any problems with lack of humidity, though.

We ended up with about five gallons of syrup that first year. All of our friends – and even some folks we didn’t know all that well – benefited. Though some years we tap a few trees, we’ve never again made maple syrup on that scale, even though I now have a commercial-grade exhaust hood in my remodeled kitchen. Partly it’s because over the years age and disease have decimated some of our sugar maples, but mostly it’s because of the time and effort involved. But whether or not I’m planning on making maple syrup, I start listening for that drip, drip, drip in mid- February each year. It’s how I know for sure that spring is on its way.

Even if you don’t have sugar maples and/or don’t have the time or interest to collect sap and make syrup yourself, you can participate in the experience during Maple Syrup Time at Lincoln Memorial Garden. For four weekends, from Feb. 16 to March 11, the Garden’s staff and volunteers will demonstrate the process of making maple syrup each Saturday and Sunday at 1 p.m. 2 p.m., and 3 p.m. There’s a five-to-ten-minute orientation at the Nature Center, then participants head into the woods to identify a suitable tree for tapping. The tree is tapped, and if conditions are right (sap flows best if it’s been below freezing overnight, then warms to above freezing in the daytime), the sap immediately begins flowing. Visitors can taste the sap water and, after taking the sap to the evaporation shed, taste the syrup produced after hours of boiling.

It’s great fun for both adults and children. LMG recommends warm clothing and footwear suitable for muddy and/or slippery ground.

Contact Julianne Glatz at realcuisine.jg@gmail.com.