31. Another First on the Farm: Tapping for Maple Syrup
One of the main missions of Unvarnished Farm is diversity of life (for a healthier ecosystem here). And while I am known as the “Chicken Lady” at market, and I’m working on a more robust market garden in 2021, I am also committed to diversity of product using the other natural resources of our farm. In this case, I’m referring to maple syrup.
[Above: one of the maple trees, my supplies, the running sap, and Lenny, who has somehow morphed into a bathmat.]
Now, this is kind of laughable, since we have about five mature maples on the property (but I did plant a BUNCH of sugar and red maples last year on the property—only have to wait a generation or two for those puppies to get big…) and the ratio of sap to syrup on maples is less-than-ideal: 40 to 1. So, if I tap forty gallons of tree sap, then I get around one gallon of maple syrup.
Why such a terrible ratio? Well, maple sap (or “maple water” as some call it) is almost entirely H2O. The process of making syrup is as simple as boiling off the water to leave the delicious, sweet, slightly cooked syrup that’s left over. Kind of like making candy, except the sugar comes from the sap, not the sack.
So last Sunday, I tapped all of the trees I could tap and hoped for the best.
The process is really simple: drill into the tree about two inches at a slightly upward angle (to encourage the sap to drip out), hammer in the spiles (the little metal or plastic “taps”), and collect whatever comes out in a bucket. Really, anyone can do it, which is why it’s such a great activity for kids: something fun and easy to do together (even kids can drill into the tree or place the buckets) while also educational in that you can teach them about how energy flows through tree, using the sun and water for food.
Sap runs through the tree when the temperature swings from below freezing to around forty or fifty degrees. When someone taps a tree, they are essentially bleeding the tree. But don’t worry, the tree can’t get sapped to death—it can produce its whole life once it gets to be ten inches in diameter. Usually, the sap-run will last a couple of months, generally in the late winter or early spring (depending on the climate in that location), and stops once the trees begin to bud (since it will give the sap a funky taste as the tree’s production of sap changes to begin to grow and fruit, rather than store energy for the duration of the colder months).
Once the sap is collected, since it does have sugar content, it can spoil, so must be kept below 45 degrees for up to two weeks (though the shorter the better) before the boil. The boil is when the magic happens and is quite literally just that: boiling for hours.
Those who harvest large amounts of sap probably have invested in specialized boiling equipment (it’s called an “evaporator”), though the boil can be done on the stove at home (for hours and hours, emitting lots and lots of condensation—which is why most people boil their sap outside over a fire or use propane). Anyone who has brewed beer at home can attest to the time and attention placed on the boil.
I will be making my own evaporator out of cinder blocks and chafing dishes rather than pots, as the larger the surface area of the boil, the faster the process will go (hooray for Chemistry!).
So how did the whole process go? Well, I haven’t boiled yet—that will be a project for this weekend after I get home from the farmers market. But I have collected almost ten gallons of sap so far. Go me! Go trees! My goal is of course to get that coveted forty gallons so that I can have one gallon of syrup for myself, and any additional can go to selling at the market, but I can only wait and see if the weather cooperates.
In other good news, our oldest dog, Mr. Wiggles, has forgone all of his previous behavior and befriended our newest cat, Midge. She is responsible for turning our previous cat-chasing (and in one horrific incident years ago, cat-eviscerating) dog into a cat-buddy.
She began this herculean feat by playing hide-and-seek with him under my truck, popping out from behind the tires or in the wheel wells to sniff Wigs or bat him with her little paws. Since he’s an elder-bull (an eleven-year-old Staffordshire Terrier mix) with creaky joints, he’s technically not a threat to the quick and young cats, but he does have jaws that bite.
Somehow, Midge knew that he wasn’t really a threat, and just decided to no longer run away, which resulted in a playful and thoroughly adorable relationship. I am so happy that Mr. Wiggles has a friend—he deserves a little four-legged affection in his golden years.
[Pay no attention to the collection of goose and poultry poo on the porch—they have made it their unofficial job to scatter feces where we walk, and I hadn’t swept it yet. Gross, right?]
Well, that’s about it for the time being. Tune in next time for a post about boiling down sap into syrup, and another new undertaking to improve the farm. Hint: there’s a pic of what’s to come below. Can you guess what it is?
