Maple Syrup

As Buddy in the movie Elf, I think maybe Will Ferrell was onto something when he opted for maple syrup over milk on his morning bowl of cereal. Maple syrup, he explained to his non-elf family, was one of an elf’s four main food groups. As many in this region make their annual pilgrimage to the Elmira Maple Syrup Festival today, we can be reminded that there’s a little bit of Buddy in all of us.

Maple syrup gets me all excited. It’s like eating vegetables straight from the garden. It’s eating close to home. Geographically, we’re blessed that way. Not everyone is. Several years ago, I was vacationing with friends in a wee village on the northeastern coast of Ireland when, one morning, we decided to do up a pancake feast. Without thought, one of us ran down to the grocer to fetch some maple syrup and was laughed right out of the shop. The news soon found its way around town to great hilarity that the Canadians wanted to buy maple syrup – and thought they could get it.

Indeed, Canada produces 83 per cent of the world’s supply of maple syrup, Ontario produces about four per cent of that and Waterloo-Wellington is one of the province’s highest producing areas. So when I buy my syrup, I get a thrill from the idea that someone who lives not too far from me is going out in their yard, extracting all that sap from their trees, turning it into a gooey elixir, and pouring it in a jug to sell to me directly. We all have far too little idea where most of our food comes from. So when the opportunity arises to get it right from the farmer’s hands, I’ll take it every time.

Which is why I have recently, and rather greedily, been giving thought to buying a four litre jug of maple syrup – straight from the source that tapped the trees and at a great price. People I’ve mentioned this to are of one of two minds – they think I’m nuts, or they think this is completely reasonable. A couple of my colleagues claim to go through three or four of these jugs every year. Granted, they have houses full of children and a big feed of pancakes every Saturday morning. I don’t. But then another girlfriend, whose syrup supply is merely for herself and her husband, thought four litres was perfectly reasonable for the two of them – her husband uses it to make his famous granola.

Perhaps I needed a reminder, then, to think more like Buddy. Syrup is not just for pancakes. It’s for baked beans. Oatmeal with toasted walnuts. Maple-chipotle vinaigrette. Homemade breakfast sausage.

I think I’ve just sold myself on the four litre jug. And hopefully you, too. If you’re not heading up to the festival today, do drive up those country roads and pay a farmer a visit sometime soon, while the syrup is still blissfully fresh.
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