Several years ago I learned the difference between several varieties of maple trees. Disappointingly, and more to whit, I learned that the kind of maple trees I had on my property were Norway maples, not sugar maples. Dave and Stuart McLean of The Vinyl Café had already taught me that it takes a LOT of tree sap to make even a small amount of syrup, and with the wrong type of tree the romance of boiling our own syrup seemed unattainable.
Norway maples, if you don’t know, are essentially a weed. They’re “hardy” and “resistant” trees, and they are voracious seed spreaders. They aren’t native to where I live (not surprising; I’m nowhere near Norway). They are invasive, taking the space that might otherwise be occupied by more tender local trees and plants. And, as stated above, they aren’t used to collect maple syrup. As far as I was concerned, they were unwelcome eco-system disturber trees with little to redeem them – and, as they were technically on the city’s portion of my lawn, I couldn’t even replace them.
But, this year I felt a bit more optimistic. Social media and socialization indicate that the sap is flowing well this year, and I do have a history of using “unusable” plants. Highbush cranberry, did you know, besides not being a true cranberry, comes in American and European varieties. While the American version can be harvested and used in much the same way as true cranberries, the European variety is generally considered inedible due to bitterness. The European, inedible berries are what the previous owners had been growing, and they are what I turned into cranberry jelly for our first Thanksgiving at our new house. Although inferior to real cranberry sauce, with enough sugar and tweaking the jelly was edible after all. Maybe I could make lemonade out of Norway maples.
So, tree tapping kit in hand, a few days ago I stuck three spiles into two Norway maple trees. And here’s the wisdom I’ve since amassed!
To start the tap, at about chest height I drilled 1.5 inches into the tree, cheating slightly upward and picking a relatively flat and sheltered portion. The drill bit I used was 5/16″, and then I gently tapped the spile into place.
Whoa, yes, the sap was flowing well! https://youtube.com/shorts/Mh9Qstv9Qyk
A mere 16 hours later I had two large pots full of sap, and I started boiling it down. Because of the lower sugar content compared to maple trees, instead of 40:1 the ratio of sap to syrup was going to be 60:1. I read that the other way I would be able to tell that the syrup was done is that it would reach 219 farenheit. Water boils at 212 Farenheit, but as the ratio of water to sugar would change, so too would the boiling point. I remember enough high school chemistry that this made sense to me, but I don’t have a great thermometer and I have been known to skip steps, so I decided to just wing it and not worry about the temperature.
After boiling for about 4 hours, very slowly, it all of a sudden very quickly began to resemble caramel sponge candy! If you haven’t made it, essentially you boil sugar and water until it reaches a certain temperature, and then you add baking soda to make the whole thing froth up. The candy is delicious, but the maple syrup doing the same thing was alarming! I guessed that we’d passed the 219 target. But, once the bubbles settled down, it looked perfect for maple candy (and it was https://youtube.com/shorts/kulKd9KQEeg?feature=share).
Lessons from this attempt:
- You’re supposed to scrape off the foam as the sap boils.
- The temperature target is probably a bit important.
- It didn’t get TOO steamy inside, although the humidity certainly went up a bit.
- It worked!
This morning I had collected another 3 pots-worth of sap and started attempt number two, this time with a thermometer and with scraping off the stiff foam that collected at the surface. Turns out, the change from 212 to 215 takes about 5 hours, the change from 215 to 218 takes about 10 minutes, and the change from 218 to 230 takes about 5 seconds.
Lessons from this attempt:
- My thermometer is awful, I need a new thermometer.
- Even with scraping the foam away, the syrup was cloudy – I might need to try filtering the sugar sand sediments out, if I’d like to get a more clear syrup.
- Pouring the cooled syrup through a coffee filter does NOT work.
I think that this can settle into a not-very-labour-intensive aspect of my little urban homestead. Collecting the sap is easy. Starting the boil is easy. I really only had to scrap the foam off the surface of the boiling sap twice, it wasn’t an ongoing issue. I’ll test out filtering the syrup, try to get a little quicker to the draw at that magic 219 temperature, and see if I can get prettier syrup – but if not, or if it’s becoming finicky, I’m sure my family will happily eat cloudy, sugar sandy syrup if it’s an excuse for more pancakes.
While I still would prefer a nice sugar maple or even a red maple, I’ve learned that it’s pretty fun to gather and boil your own maple syrup. The Norway maple is perhaps better than no maple at all.
