I LOVE real maple syrup. Readers who know what I’m talking about, know what I’m talking about. But this love changed, in a way, many years ago. I was young and at a wonderful sugaring-off event that had a large container of fresh first-draw syrup warm over a small fire. There was an area of clean fresh snow, and a ladle. And this wonderful event was sparsely attended. I LOVED it. And when I had consumed my fill, I looked at all that syrup that remained and ladled more onto fresh snow. When I thought I could eat no more, I noticed that container of pickles (I’m not normally a pickle eater), and I looked at all that wonderful syrup and took just enough pickle to not take much space but to enable me to go for more of that wonderful (sort of, at this point) syrup. I did this one more time and still felt pretty good.
I did not enjoy it all so much later. Hmmm….I have wonderful memories of that syrup. And some not quite so wonderful. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…” I still LOVE real maple syrup, but I have a different sense of it.