To me, there is nothing better than a taste of real Vermont maple syrup. It is part of many Vermonters identity, daily lives, and general happiness. In my life, maple syrup has always been directly related to place, a place I proudly call my home. Though, after considering Amy Trubek’s understanding of Terroir, my understanding of the connection between maple syrup and place feels lost, or confused at least.
My first experience with the sugaring process was with a class field trip to Shelburne Farms early in my elementary school years. In the crisp spring air we walked around and learned all about the equipment, the process and the history of sugaring. The best part of course was the taste test at the end. We all had the opportunity to try a few grades as well as samples of fake maple syrup to differentiate them. When I tested the many varieties it made me proud to associate the best, most delicious syrup with Vermont. From an early age, it was clear to me that maple syrup is key part of the identity of the Vermont landscape.
Maple syrup is wild and has literal roots in Vermont earth. Every year it gifts sugar makers with a flow of sap from the heart of the maple tree. The land and soil are its nutrients, the only factors that can affect the quality and flavors of the thick, golden goodness. I suppose it is just another product in our grocery store that you could compare to farmed beef. Though, beef are often labeled “grass fed”, or “grain fed”, and sometimes even include “pasture raised” to give insight into their living conditions. Clearly the food given to the beef and the environment the animals are raised in affect their flavor and it can’t be any different with maple syrup. So why don’t we differentiate environment and process in maple syrup labeling? Trubek brought up a good point when wondering, “are producers of Vermont maple syrup missing an opportunity to valorize the taste of place more thoroughly, to examine closely the variation in flavors of maple syrup made in the state, and ultimately link the tastes of maple syrup to process and place?” (223)
As I consider maple syrup as it relates to place, my mind immediately flips to fond memories of staring out the window in the morning after a sleepover at my friend Lydia’s house in the mountains of Ripton. In the windowsill tall jars hold her families latest batch of maple syrup. I gaze beyond the jars glowing in the sun, to see a thick forest reminding me of the earth and trees that created this sweet and powerful liquid. Lydia’s property is rich with character with ponds, streams, forests, fields, livestock, and tomato plants. Of course, it always made sense to me that the best maple syrup is born out of the beautiful diverse landscapes of Vermont. Now as I imagine the view from Lydia’s kitchen window I find myself wondering, and wanting to know more about the soil and the earth that lies below the surface.
Trubeks article made me reconsider Vermont culture and our relationship to the earth, something many pride themselves on. Do we lose a piece of Vermont culture when we associate all maple syrup with the same flavors and environment? Vermonters a great amount of state pride, I wonder how we managed to be brainwashed into giving up our unique and varied farming practices and earth to succumb to the generic, uniform food system. Have we lost the strong tie to the land that we pride ourselves on to become simply another farming state?
I don’t think Vermont has ever been or will be ‘simply another farming state’. What makes Vermont unique are its citizens’ love of land and ties to place as evidenced by your beautiful descriptions of the state you call home. You, like other Vermonters, care passionately about your syrup, consider it a source of pride, and learned from an early age how the sugary sap was made. The taste of syrup ties you to distinct memories, like Lydia’s house. This is much different than what the average customer thinks of farmed beef or any other typical product in the grocery store. I am hopeful that with the Vermont pride exemplified in your piece, the state can improve its grading system and work harder to protect the valuable sap. What if maple syrup became like wine tasting? What if maple sommeliers swished the sticky sweetness in their mouths, inhaled the scents, analyzed the golden hues and proclaimed, “This must be a Grade A Shelbourne” or “Definitely, a grade b Arlington.”