Empire State Syrup

This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

The New York Sun

Just around this time of year in 2000, I was driving on a dirt road through Superior National Forest in northern Minnesota and saw an arrow-shaped wooden sign with a hand-painted message: “MAPLE SYRUP.”

A few miles and one very large moose later, I came upon the mapling operation — not the backyard amateur enterprise that the crude sign had led me to expect, but Wild Country Maple Syrup, a full-time commercial operation whose 10,000-tree sugarbush covered 320 acres. And their syrup, as I soon discovered, was spectacularly good.

If the idea of maple syrup from Minnesota — or from anywhere other than Vermont — strikes you as odd, think again. Virtually all of the Great Lakes states have significant maple industries. That includes New York, where our official state tree, after all, is the sugar maple. The state ranks second in the nation in maple syrup production volume (behind Vermont) and third in sales revenue (behind Vermont and Maine).

“And we can catch Maine easily,” the executive director of the New York State Maple Producers Association, Mary Jeanne Packer, said.”I mean, their state tree is the pine!”

Such good-natured jabs aside, Ms. Packer said the biggest challenge facing New York’s maple industry is consumer misperceptions. “We had an exhibit back in July at the International Fancy Foods Show at the Javits Center, and the number one comment we got from people was,‘I didn’t know maple syrup was made in New York,'” she said. “That’s because New York’s image is industrial, manufacturing, ‘the Empire State,’ whereas maple trees with buckets hanging off of them is pretty much all Vermont has for its image.” Indeed, this is precisely the scene depicted on Vermont’s state quarter.

Maple syrup, wherever it’s made, is produced pretty much the same way: Sap is collected from the trees (it’s clear and surprisingly watery at this stage) and is boiled down until it’s thickened and concentrated, with impurities skimmed off along the way. The sap starts out with only about a 2% sugar content and can’t be called maple syrup until this figure exceeds 67%, which gives you an idea of how much evaporation is involved.

Mapling is essentially a type of farming, with the syrup’s flavor profile shaped by things like soil composition, the trees’ genetic makeup, and weather. So is there a difference between the various states’ syrups? Vermont has slightly different grading standards for density, which essentially means Vermont syrup is a teeny bit thicker, although I found that distinction virtually impossible to discern over the course of several recent taste tests.

But what about taste? Can a professional tell one state’s syrup from another’s?

The president of the Minnesota Maple Syrup Producers Association, Jerry Jacobson, tried to stake out some defining flavor turf for their product. “Minnesota syrup is particularly smooth,” he insisted. But the president of the Michigan Maple Syrup Association, Tom Cook, expressed the consensus view among representatives from several state trade organizations: “Maple syrups are pretty much all alike,” he said. “I’ve had a few people say that ours tastes kind of buttery, but I can’t even detect that myself. In a blind test, I wouldn’t be able to tell them apart.”

Ms. Packer, the New York state mapling magnate, agreed.”Our biggest competitor is not Vermont or Maine or Quebec,” she said. “It’s Mrs. Butterworth and Aunt Jemima. So we’re more concerned with getting pure maple syrup considered the food of choice, instead of the processed brands.”

That’s an uphill climb, at least for now. Ms. Packer said maple syrup currently constitutes only about 1% of the table syrup market, in large part because it’s so much more expensive than the synthetic stuff.

But as we head into this year’s cool-weather pancake and waffle season, the pendulum may be swinging. People throughout the mapling industry are optimistic that Americans’ increased demand for natural, organic, and artisanal foods can only bode well for maple syrup.

“And we’ve got something Mrs. Butterworth doesn’t have: tourism,” Ms. Packer said. “Once people visit a sugarhouse and see maple syrup being made, they’re usually converted for life. There’s a powerful connection when people associate a product with a specific place on the land.” Even if that land isn’t in Vermont.

SYRUP BY THE LETTER | A GUIDE TO THE GRADES

Most maple syrup bottles feature terminology like “Grade A Medium Amber,” which reflects the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s grading standards. But what do these terms actually mean in terms of flavor and quality? Here’s a quick rundown:

GRADE A LIGHT AMBER A very light-colored syrup with a mild, delicate maple flavor. This is essentially maple syrup for people who don’t really like maple syrup.
GRADE A MEDIUM AMBER A medium-golden color with moderate maple flavor. This grade is the most popular nationwide, although it doesn’t show up very often on New York City grocery shelves.
GRADE A DARK AMBER A darker, richer color with the strongest maple flavor of the table grades. This is the maple syrup most commonly found in New York, and is as good to cook with as it is over pancakes.
GRADE B A very dark color and a very strong maple flavor that some may find gamey or offputting. Ideal for cooking.


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