Since 1890: A Cummings Family Tradition
When my husband and I bought our modest bungalow in 2011, we were also happy to see our purchase also included everything one needed for the production of 'liquid gold' , or more commonly known as Maple Syrup. Our new property boasted of once acre of sugar maples that had been tapped since the late 1890's.
Sitting in the middle of the bush sits a sturdy little sugar shack. Originally a cottage, it was purchased for $12.00 in the 1940's from the Town of Wasaga Beach when it was making its transition to a Provincial Park. The cottage was retrofitted to include an open shaft at the top of the structure to let out steam and smoke. A fire pit was built in to the floor to rest pans on cinder block for boiling.
Every year, as the winter season starts to move through its awkward and messy transition into spring, we prepare. Wood cut up, split and piled into neat stacks in and around the shack will provide the fuel required for endless hours of sap boiling. Buckets are taken down, tree spiles counted and jugs, filters and labels purchased for the packaging of the final product. And then we wait. Wait for the weather forcasts that predict the precise conditions required for the sap to run: +5 during the day and -5 at night for consecutive days in a row.
As soon as we know the weather will be on our side we begin with the first step of a two to three week process. Drilling holes in the trees, tapping in the spiles and hanging the buckets that will collect the sap. Once we have collected about two large barrels of sap or 60 gallons, we begin the boiling process by starting a fire and pouring the sap into the metal pans that sit over top of the fire. In this fashion, we boil down for anywhere from 12- 20 hours or until the sap reaches the creamy, syrupy consistency we all love. The syrup is removed from the heat source, filtered two or three times and then bottled while still hot.
I feel lucky that my family can carry on this tradition as it was my grandfather's property we bought. As a child I loved tromping through the snow in the little bush, going from tree to tree checking to see which trees were running with buckets filled to the top. We would scream in excitement, hollering to anyone who was within ear shot - "We're rich! We're RICHHH!!!!" alerting the adults of our find. I remember sitting on the bench in the shack with my Grampa, not speaking, just breathing in the warm, sticky sweet fog that enveloped us in the tiny old cottage. My Grampa would poke and prod at the glowing coals, add wood, scooping foam off the top as the hot liquid rolled around itself in the stainless steel pans.
If anyone is in need of a million dollar idea, the smell of Maple Syrup boiling over a fire on a clean crisp early spring afternoon would do well as a health tonic. It is aromatherapy in the truest sense of the word. I also like to drink the sap straight from the tree just like the Japanese do in their own Springtime Rituals.
So now it is my own children toddling, running and shouting through the bush while checking buckets and mysterious holes in the trunks of trees, watching the sap boil, taste testing as frequently as allowed. And it's my husband who I sit quietly beside watching the steam billowing and curling its way up into the clean open sky where a flock of geese pass overhead, making their way back north after a long winter.
