Seasonal Pantry: Maple syrup beyond the breakfast table

Even the sound of the words “maple syrup” offers a cozy sort of comfort, memories of pancakes and waffles slathered with melting butter and warm syrup, of sizzling bacon, of the feel of new pajamas and the sound of winter rain.

I did not grow up with maple syrup. My mother was extremely cost-conscious and so purchased imitation maple syrup, which is less expensive. But every now and then, someone gave me a piece of maple candy, one of those little maple-leaf-shaped morsels that melt in your mouth like nothing else I’ve ever tasted. I didn’t put the two together - that taste and true syrup - until I was an adult. Now I always keep a small bottle of maple syrup on hand.

I’ve developed a special fondness for maple syrup the past couple of weeks, as it has helped ease the symptoms of the nasty virus I’m battling. I poured some into a heavy cup, added a jigger or so of aged single malt Scotch, the juice of a lemon, the juice of an orange and hot water and sipped it, snuggled in a blanket on the couch, until my coughing subsided and I began to feel sleepy. I did this nightly for nearly a week, until both the syrup and the Scotch were gone.

Did it help? I think so, as I slept though the nights without coughing.

Maple syrup is a found food, a lovely gift of nature that simply needs a bit of gentle handling by humans. In the United States, we typically think of it as a New England specialty and, more specifically, a gift of Vermont, though most of the world’s maple syrup, about 90 percent of it, comes from Canada.

There also are scores of producers in Massachusetts, New Hampshire, New York, Maine and Rhode Island.

Native Americans discovered it long ago and learned how to process the sweet sap that flowed naturally in early spring from several varieties of maple trees, including the sugar maple, black maple and red maple. According to the New England Maple Museum, the first immigrant to make maple syrup was a French missionary around 1690.

For centuries, families in the region simply made it for their own use, not for sale.

What is maple syrup, exactly? It begins as sap, a clear liquid that is just slightly sweet, with somewhere between 1 and 4 percent sugar.

As winter begins to give way to spring, with freezing nights and mild days, the sap within the trees begins to flow, rising with the warmth, falling with the chill.

Farmers watch for seasonal changes - creeks thawing, icicles dripping, birds singing and other signs of spring - to signal the time to tap their trees.

Trees must be at least 10 inches in diameter before they can be tapped. After a metal or plastic tap is fitted snugly into a tree, a bucket is attached or a line is connected to a gathering system.

Sap drips at the rate of about two drops per heartbeat, I’ve read, yielding about 10 gallons during the four- to six-week sugaring season.

The 10 gallons of sap will, once processed, make about a quart of maple syrup. Processing is simply evaporation, accomplished long ago with wood fire and eventually with gas to boil off the water.

A tree is generally about 40 years old before it is tapped, a process that causes the tree no harm as long as it is done properly, without leaving the tree vulnerable to insect damage or disease.

A healthy tree will produce sap year after year for decades. The sap it gives up each year is just a small portion of what it contains.

If you are from the South or Northeast, you are probably familiar with the various ways, other than as a breakfast condiment, that maple syrup is used. A splash transforms collard greens and ham hocks; it makes a delicious vinaigrette; and it is used in barbecue sauces and marinades.

Maple syrup gives regional flavor to baked beans, apple pie, coffee cake, hot apple cider and dozens of other dishes. Trendy bartenders are crafting cocktails with it.

I find maple syrup particularly delicious when paired with apple cider vinegar, black pepper and mustard, either together or separately, and as soon as I’m on the mend, I’ll be experimenting with new recipes. So, if you love maple syrup, stay tuned.

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When I’m recovering from a cold or other virus, I find that as my appetite returns, I have brief but unusual cravings.

Today I’m longing for popcorn with maple syrup, butter and, in all honesty, crumbled bacon, which I would include if I had any on hand.

Popcorn with Butter and Maple Syrup

Makes about 1 quart

1 tablespoon olive oil or corn oil

¼ cup unpopped popcorn

- Kosher salt

2 tablespoons butter

2 tablespoons pure maple syrup

- Black pepper in a mill, optional

Heat the oil in a small deep saucepan set over medium heat. Add the popcorn, agitate the pan and, when the first kernel pops, cover the pot, leaving the lid slightly off center to allow steam, but not popcorn, to escape.

Agitate pan frequently and remove from the heat when the sound of popping has stopped for 20 to 30 seconds.

Turn the popcorn into a wide bowl, season with salt, and return the pan to the heat. Add the butter and syrup, stir, and when the butter is melted, pour the mixture over the popcorn, using a rubber spatula to scrape out all the butter and syrup.

Taste, correct for salt, season with pepper if you like, and enjoy right away.

This is a lovely winter salad, perfect as a light lunch or as a side dish at dinner. It is especially good with roasted chicken or pork alongside.

I’ve made so many versions of this dish over the years; if memory serves, the original version came from my pal chef John Ash.

Warm Cabbage Salad with Goat Cheese, Spicy Toasted Pecans and Maple-Mustard Dressing

Serves 4

1 small red cabbage, cored and very thinly sliced

8 ounces bacon, cooked until crisp and drained

½ cup extra virgin olive oil

2 cloves garlic, minced

2 tablespoons Dijon mustard powder

1 tablespoon maple syrup, plus more to taste

3 tablespoons apple cider vinegar

- Kosher salt

- Black pepper in a mill

5 ounces chabis or other young, fresh chèvre cheese

2/3 cup shelled pecans, lightly toasted

Core and finely shred the cabbage and set it aside.

Cook the bacon until crisp and transfer it to absorbent paper to cool; reserve the drippings.

Meanwhile, whisk together the olive oil, 2 tablespoons of the pan drippings, the garlic, the mustard, the maple syrup, and the vinegar. Taste, season with salt and pepper and correct for sweetness, adding a bit more maple syrup if you like.

Pour about half the dressing into a sauté pan set over medium heat, add the cabbage and toss to warm it through. Transfer the cabbage to a serving platter or individual plates.

Crumble the goat cheese and the bacon over the cabbage. Spoon the remaining dressing over the top and sprinkle with the pecans. Serve right away.

Michele Anna Jordan has written 18 books to date, including the new “More Than Meatballs.” Email Jordan at michele@saladdresser.com. You’ll find her blog, “Eat This Now,” at pantry.blogs.pressdemocrat.com.

Michele Anna Jordan has written 18 books to date, including the new “More Than Meatballs.” Email Jordan at michele@saladdresser.com. You’ll find her blog, “Eat This Now,” at pantry.blogs.pressdemocrat.com.