At this late-winter-early springtime of the year, I find myself reminiscing about my maple sugaring experience right here Cook County.
Following our year on Tucker Lake, Dick and I lived in a rented house on Maple Hill. The house was old and rickety, sitting halfway up Maple Hill, but the view was stunning. One early March day, my eyes lit on the maple trees that grew below. Why couldn’t I tap some trees and make syrup?
I checked out a “back to the land’ book from the library, read all about tapping sap and making maple syrup. When the late March days reached temps of 40 degrees F and night temps still dropped below freezing, the weather was perfect for collecting sap.
I was ready. I managed to drill holes in as many trees as seemed workable. Next, I hung an assortment of plastic containers under the holes to collect the sap.
It was all very makeshift. Every morning, I slogged through alternating piles of slush and snow. The amount of watery sap varied, but every day felt like a treasure hunt, and I wasn’t alone. Nooky, my Malamute was an enthusiastic companion.
After approximately ten days, the sap stopped flowing, and now the fun began, turning sap into syrup. I was proud of the four gallons I’d collected, and with great satisfaction poured them into a large enamel pan, bringing the liquid to a slow boil.
I carefully tended the stuff all day. watching like a hawk to make certain nothing burned. As I watched and stirred and watched and stirred, I wondered about the watery quality of the sap.
How much syrup would really come of this?
Slowly, ever so slowly, the watery liquid thickened. And kept thickening. I turned the heat down… down…down. No way was I going to burn my treasured maple syrup.
Suddenly, it was time get the enamel pot off the stove and immediately! The remaining boiled-down sap, though very small in volume, was a magnificent golden-brown. Quickly, I poured what was now syrup into another container. There wasn’t as much as I’d hoped, so I measured it.
All my work had resulted in a mere eight ounces. I was disappointed until my first taste of the golden-brown maple syrup. It told me all I wanted to know. My homemade syrup was delicious.
It wasn’t enough for a hearty breakfast of pancakes or French toast, but it was the perfect amount to pour in small doses over vanilla ice cream, which is what I did.
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