It is clear – even months before the annual sugaring season in February and March – that maple syrup pulses through the veins of Vermonters. It is the life blood of the state, blanketing every hill and valley with a glossy coating of sweet amber sap, even when the sugarhouses have gone dark and the steam has dissipated.
In October, the maple leaves turn an incendiary crimson red and the maple lover can find sugary maple leaf candies, maple dessert wine, maple ice cream, maple-flavored mustard, maple pumpkin butter, maple fudge, and shelf-upon-shelf of bottles and rectangular tin jugs of traditional maple syrup labeled Grade A Fancy, Medium Amber, and Dark Amber. Fancy is the color of golden honey, Medium Amber resembles a wheat-colored pilsner and Dark Amber is the color of English stout.
In Vermont, maple syrup is magic. Native American’s called the sugar maple “Sweet Bud.” For the true enthusiast, a single word on a license plate declares a life-long devotion.
Nearly every farm seems to have a sugarhouse out back. We spot shiny tanks and miles of tubing in the woods, a sign of the annual sugaring season.
It will be several months before maple sugar production begins, but the family is on duty at Sprague and Son Sugarhouse on Route 100 in Jacksonville, Vermont, even during the fall foliage season. Sprague and Son is a sturdy wooden structure, trimmed in honey-colored wood panels, with shiny chimney pipes emerging from the roof. Cords of firewood are neatly stacked out back.
Karen Sprague greets us as we enter the sugarhouse. The day is warm, her hair is pulled back and she wears a sleeveless top. She is full of energy and bursting with information about the production of maple syrup.
“I married into the business,” she explains. The Sprague family has been collecting maple syrup in Vermont for six generations, and practices traditional methods of producing maple syrup. On the average, the Sprague family produces about one quart of syrup per tree each season, working from about 4,800 maple trees. Karen explains that the product of each sugarhouse is distinct and original.
“There are no two batches of syrup that taste the same, and no two sugarhouses that taste the same. We are all completely different.”
It was a commitment to sharing their craft with the public that inspired the Sprague family to build their sugarhouse on a main road. They liked the idea of inviting the public in, but the first weekend they were so busy with visitors, it proved a distraction.
“We actually scorched the pans,” laughs Karen.
Small glass vials filled with syrup line the window sill, showing the variation in color from the previous year’s batch. In the center of the room is a long metal pan, which sits atop a rectangular enclosed wood burning stove. The sap is stored by tanks at the side of the road, piped into this evaporator and then heated until it reaches the critical temperature that turns the mixture to syrup. The evaporator can hold up to 1,000 gallons of sap.
I learn that there is an instinctive feel to producing quality maple syrup. “My husband and father-in-law can determine when it’s syrup just by looking at it,” explains Karen.
I ask how she would describe the flavor of their syrup, and she gives her answer some thought. “Woody, because we burn with wood, so it does pick up a natural woody flavor.”
The finished product is stored hot in metal drums and eventually packaged in smaller batches.
Karen takes some syrup that has been heating in a metal box with a spout and pours it into Dixie cups for us to sample. We sip the silky liquid. It is a wild toboggan ride – clean, molten flavors of caramel, toasted nuts, sweet smoke and honey. We purchase several jugs of Vermont Grade A Medium Amber. The containers are still warm in our hands as the batch has just been bottled hours earlier.
I ask Karen about her favorite methods for using maple syrup in the kitchen. “I’m a vegetarian,” she replies. “I steam most of my vegetables and sprinkle them with maple sugar or syrup.” She drizzles sweet potatoes with maple syrup before baking, and her son is an advocate for using maple syrup as a glaze for pork or veal.
“You could get rid of every sweetener in your house for cooking or baking and use maple syrup,” Karen explains.
One gets a sense of the sheer excitement the Spragues experience each season as they produce a completely natural food product. “It’s the most amazing thing to take something from the tree that looks like water and see that liquid turn to syrup,” says Karen with a broad smile.
During the sugaring season, results are dependent on nature and what the trees offer. The Spragues have worked as briefly as four hours, or as long as 72 continuous hours done in shifts. The maple trees set the schedule.
“When the sap flows, you boil,” Karen smiles.
What better way to make use of my supply of Pure Vermont Maple Syrup from Sprague and Son than by mixing up a batch of hearty muffins for autumn, bursting with the flavors of New England?
Cranberry Maple Walnut Muffins
Karen Sprague greets us as we enter the sugarhouse. The day is warm, her hair is pulled back and she wears a sleeveless top. She is full of energy and bursting with information about the production of maple syrup.
“I married into the business,” she explains. The Sprague family has been collecting maple syrup in Vermont for six generations, and practices traditional methods of producing maple syrup. On the average, the Sprague family produces about one quart of syrup per tree each season, working from about 4,800 maple trees. Karen explains that the product of each sugarhouse is distinct and original.
“There are no two batches of syrup that taste the same, and no two sugarhouses that taste the same. We are all completely different.”
It was a commitment to sharing their craft with the public that inspired the Sprague family to build their sugarhouse on a main road. They liked the idea of inviting the public in, but the first weekend they were so busy with visitors, it proved a distraction.
“We actually scorched the pans,” laughs Karen.
Small glass vials filled with syrup line the window sill, showing the variation in color from the previous year’s batch. In the center of the room is a long metal pan, which sits atop a rectangular enclosed wood burning stove. The sap is stored by tanks at the side of the road, piped into this evaporator and then heated until it reaches the critical temperature that turns the mixture to syrup. The evaporator can hold up to 1,000 gallons of sap.
I learn that there is an instinctive feel to producing quality maple syrup. “My husband and father-in-law can determine when it’s syrup just by looking at it,” explains Karen.
I ask how she would describe the flavor of their syrup, and she gives her answer some thought. “Woody, because we burn with wood, so it does pick up a natural woody flavor.”
The finished product is stored hot in metal drums and eventually packaged in smaller batches.
Karen takes some syrup that has been heating in a metal box with a spout and pours it into Dixie cups for us to sample. We sip the silky liquid. It is a wild toboggan ride – clean, molten flavors of caramel, toasted nuts, sweet smoke and honey. We purchase several jugs of Vermont Grade A Medium Amber. The containers are still warm in our hands as the batch has just been bottled hours earlier.
I ask Karen about her favorite methods for using maple syrup in the kitchen. “I’m a vegetarian,” she replies. “I steam most of my vegetables and sprinkle them with maple sugar or syrup.” She drizzles sweet potatoes with maple syrup before baking, and her son is an advocate for using maple syrup as a glaze for pork or veal.
“You could get rid of every sweetener in your house for cooking or baking and use maple syrup,” Karen explains.
One gets a sense of the sheer excitement the Spragues experience each season as they produce a completely natural food product. “It’s the most amazing thing to take something from the tree that looks like water and see that liquid turn to syrup,” says Karen with a broad smile.
During the sugaring season, results are dependent on nature and what the trees offer. The Spragues have worked as briefly as four hours, or as long as 72 continuous hours done in shifts. The maple trees set the schedule.
“When the sap flows, you boil,” Karen smiles.
What better way to make use of my supply of Pure Vermont Maple Syrup from Sprague and Son than by mixing up a batch of hearty muffins for autumn, bursting with the flavors of New England?
Cranberry Maple Walnut Muffins
(Adapted from "The Official Vermont Maple Cookbook, Third Edition, Published by the Vermont Maple Foundation)
2 cups sifted flour
¼ cup butter
¼ cup sugar
3 tsp baking powder
½ tsp salt
½ cup chopped fresh cranberries
½ cup chopped walnuts, toasted and cooled
1 egg
½ cup milk
½ cup Vermont maple syrup
Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Combine flour, sugar, baking powder and salt in a large bowl. Cut butter into small cubes and cut in with your fingers until blended well. Add cranberries and walnuts. Beat together egg, milk and maple syrup and fold into dry ingredients until just blended. Fill paper-lined muffin tins 2/3 full and bake at 400 degrees for 20 minutes. Yield: 12 muffins.
Click here for more information on the history of Vermont’s maple sugaring industry. Click here for more recipes using Vermont maple syrup.
©2007 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved
2 cups sifted flour
¼ cup butter
¼ cup sugar
3 tsp baking powder
½ tsp salt
½ cup chopped fresh cranberries
½ cup chopped walnuts, toasted and cooled
1 egg
½ cup milk
½ cup Vermont maple syrup
Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Combine flour, sugar, baking powder and salt in a large bowl. Cut butter into small cubes and cut in with your fingers until blended well. Add cranberries and walnuts. Beat together egg, milk and maple syrup and fold into dry ingredients until just blended. Fill paper-lined muffin tins 2/3 full and bake at 400 degrees for 20 minutes. Yield: 12 muffins.
Click here for more information on the history of Vermont’s maple sugaring industry. Click here for more recipes using Vermont maple syrup.
©2007 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved
