Nebraskaland

54 Nebraskaland • January-February 2021 Over the years, I've been lucky enough to have friends in the Northeast — Vermont, Connecticut or one of the other curiously shaped little states up that way that I probably wouldn't be able to identify on a map. And sometimes in the late spring, I get a heavy package from one or two of them and know this is a friendship I need to keep in good order because it's sugaring time. There are plenty of substitutes for maple syrup, but there is nothing like real maple syrup. One spring, about 20 years ago, I got to thinking (a process Linda has learned to dread) and recalled reading that the Native Americans of the upper Missouri Valley used to gather maple sap and boil it down to syrup, candy or sugar — except they were tapping box elders, a member of the maple (Acer) family. Sugar maples carry a relatively high content of sugar in their sap when it rises in the early spring, but there is nonetheless sugar content in the sap of other members of the maple family, too. And I thought to myself, "Self, around 1980 you planted a lot of silver maples down in the old slough by the river. I wonder ...". So I bought a couple of spiles (the little pipes needed for tapping trees for sap), a hand drill, some gallon jugs and headed down through the woods where I found that my maples had done quite well over the years. About 50 of them were still growing strong and sturdy in the moist bottom ground and following helpful directions from my friends in the "Mysterious East," I set five taps. The next morning, I went down again into the woods to see if maybe I had a cup or two of sap in my jugs, whereupon I learned of the generosity of the genus Acer. The jugs were filled to overflowing. So I replaced them, and brought the five full ones up to the house. Later that day I went back down, still uncertain of how productive those trees would be and, oh boy, the jugs were full again. So, for four or five days I was like a bee in springtime, making hourly trips to check my taps and the rest of the day trying to locate more plastic jugs. I knew that it took a lot of sap to boil down to syrup because I had visited sugaring operations in the East as a tourist, but of course, those operations were professional; they knew what they were doing, and they had the right kind of equipment to do the job. I, on the other hand, was bumbling my way, boiling down sap on the kitchen stove and trying to learn what heat worked best and finding, to my chagrin, that it's a good idea to keep your eye on the product because one moment it is watery sap, then for a brief moment lovely amber syrup, and then suddenly a sticky taffy that so far as I can tell bonds with metals like a good weld. Over the next few days, I also learned that when cooking down maple sap, there is apparently a fog of maple sap that spreads and settles on everything within 500 yards. Pots and pans coated with maple lacquer piled up in the sink. A dark gloom was cast over the distaff side of the marriage. When my first and only sugaring season ended, I had several quarts of superb maple syrup from my own maple trees, a few cups of gooey taffy (absolutely delicious) and a direct order from the Queen of Our Kitchen that if ever again I sugared maples, the cooking would be done outside, well removed from the house. And downwind. I've decided instead to tenderly foster my friendship with friends in the Northeast and leave my maples to themselves. But if you are unmarried, or want to be, I recommend that you try making your own maple syrup during the spring thaw. Information about silver maples: https://bit.ly/2WsxtGR Tapping sap trees: https://bit.ly/3nlBSaB Making syrup: https://bit.ly/3nD5GPW Equipment for tapping trees for sap is simple and inexpensive, but difficult to find in Nebraska where mapling is not a common practice. However, hobbyist kits can be found easily online for $25-50. Roger Welsch is an author, humorist, folklorist and a former essayist for CBS News Sunday Morning. He has been contributing to Nebraskaland Magazine since 1977. IT'S SUGARING TIME By Roger Welsch MIXED BAG

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