The Great Maple Syrup Swapperoo

What’s on my mind? Icky sticky licky maple syrup.

I once had exotic dreams that Himself and I might visit Quebec or New England to participate in the maple syrup harvest. Wearing the mandatory black-and-red plaid shirts as befits the occasion, we wouldn’t care that we looked more like saps than what oozed from the trees. 

Huddled around camp fires between the maples, we’d sing French songs about coureurs de bois, slapping spoons against our thighs to make lively, toe-tapping music before drifting to sleep with the sap and our noses plugged.

Himself is a maple syrup aficionado. I’m content with Aunt Jemima. Himself loves the stuff Costco peddles as Grade A maple syrup. I don’t doubt that it is, but to me, it tastes cheap and thin. I prefer the darker, thicker Grade B maple syrup, which I find richer than Grade A. 

No marriage is perfect, so we’ve agreed to disagree. Which is how we come to The Great Maple Syrup Swapperoo.

Believing Himself couldn’t tell the difference between maple syrup and Aunt Jemima, I began diluting the real stuff with the imitation, always asking: “How’s the maple syrup?” 

“Great!” he said. So I diluted it further. Once again, he said: “Great!”

Things got to the point where I couldn’t stand it any longer. “Ha-ha, fooled you!” I said. He wasn’t happy. Can’t say I blame him. He immediately complained about the fake stuff, saying he’d known all along something wasn’t right. 

The last time I made pancakes, I served them with pure maple syrup. “How’s the syrup?” I asked, pretending to smirk. “Fake,” Himself said.  When I told him it was the real thing, he was even more unhappy that I’d fooled him again. 

I’ve concluded it’s the very idea of maple syrup and its romantic production that Himself and so many other people love.

Maple syrup festivals have even sprung up on the West Coast island I call home. Can you imagine? Here? Maple syrup is being tapped in backwoods places considered the salt of the earth. Who cares if salt and maple syrup production don’t always go together? It’s happening and it’s happening here! 

I know so little about maple syrup that I didn’t even know what kind of tree was tapped for its syrup. Wow! Maples? Who knew? Excited to join the romance of the harvest, I read that: “Most maples will give sap if tapped during the right season and the right weather conditions.” 

This is the right season. These are the right weather conditions. It’s snowing like a house on fire! (Let’s just kick that unfortunate cliché aside.)

I can see it now! Taps in the trees ... the drip and flow! Here it comes, gurgling out … All the Aunt Jemima I could possibly want, and all the maple syrup for Himself!  Compromise is the foundation of any happy marriage. Note to self: Buy plaid shirt.

© Nicole Parton 2019