THE sugarhouse, at the top of a muddy road in Vermont, looked plenty familiar — a tin-roofed, ramshackle barn of sorts.
It looked like all the sugarhouses I remember from my Hudson Valley childhood, where early spring days were filled with the kind of excitement and fulfillment that only sap collection can bring.
Nearly twenty years later, the memories of maple syrup-making come flooding back — the rusted fuel tank that served as a boiler, a rectangular hole cut out of the side into which you plopped the boiling pan. There was that slightly ill feeling that came from getting high on our own supply when nobody was looking. Suddenly, also, I am remembering the point in time where it was decided that it would be my job to restart the boiler fire each morning.
Times have changed. At least here in Vermont’s Mad River Valley, just about 45 minutes southeast of Burlington.
Inside, I find David Hartshorn and his father Paul, hard at work. When the sap isn’t running (and it isn’t the dead of winter), David farms. His father, who just had knee surgery and really shouldn’t be kneeling on the ground, is a local fixture, the assistant chief of the fire department and a selectman in the town.
It’s a busy morning, but the men are only too happy to show me how their setup works. First of all, as I’ve noticed driving around the valley, nobody who’s anybody uses buckets anymore. These days, it is all plastic lines, which are draped all through the trees like cheap party decorations, different colors all patched together, all bringing the raw product down to a central holding tank.
This way, instead of unhooking buckets and walking them over to the tractor (or whatever you’ve got the tank on the back of), all you have to do is go pick up the tank.
What’s really changed the game, however, is the process of reverse osmosis. Invented to purify water,
it is now used to process the sap, eliminating 70 percent of the water before you put it on to boil. Gone are the days when you have to wake up early to restart the fire under the burner. Except that they don’t use wood anymore, either. Now, it’s all oil.
Usually, Paul tells me, they’ve got a better boiling operation, complete with a hood that sits on top to pull even more of the water out, pushing the yield up even further and faster, to around 30 gallons an hour. They’ve currently jury-rigged a setup together in the absence of the old contraption, which is sitting out by the side of the road after a repair job gone awry. Either way, that’s a lot of syrup in a very, very short time.
I’m thinking that reverse osmosis is a relatively new arrival to the industry — turns out, it’s been around since the 1970’s, which means that the way we did things in the 1980’s was not necessarily in keeping with the times.
I suspect this was because the annual sugaring season for us was more about yet another way to “build character” — you know, that ideal country folk used to be so fond of. Still, I feel slightly nostalgic for the old ways. The Hartshorn’s aren’t, and rightly so — they’re trying to make a living here.
Over a festive lunch of smoked pork tenderloin and butternut squash soup at the nearby Round Barn Farm inn — David tends the four acres of garden that supply the kitchen with much of its produce in the warmer months — we’re talking about the old days.
“I was a baby in a sugarhouse,” Hartshorn says. “We sugared by lantern light.”
He remembers when they had oxen pulling the collection cart. Remembers sleeping in an empty cardboard box (the one the syrup canisters came in) in the loft above the boiler, falling asleep soaked in steam, to the sounds of someone stirring the pan.
“It’s in the blood around here,” he goes on. “My dad was running a sugarhouse at sixteen.”hey operate a 15-acre Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) farm, which takes up all the time White doesn’t work as a Nurse Practitioner, a job she does to keep the incomereverse osmosis (or “RO,” as it’s known around here), no oil power; just like old times. It’s good to see someone’s carrying the torch, even with such an uncertain future.
The future. I remember something David Hartshorn had said earlier: This year, he’s thinking of planting grapes, on the slope below the sugarhouse.
I don’t know if I’m ready to see vineyards popping up in the Mad River Valley, but Hartshorn wouldn’t be the first — there are about twenty wineries in the state, some of them doing cider, others honey mead, but some of them, straight up wine. While the die-hards who ski Mad River Glen every year will probably have my head for saying it, this really is the perfect place for a wine region to take root. Providing the temperatures really go up. The morning I leave, it’s near freezing again. The sap will probably be running. Cancel the funeral.
THE LOWDOWN
The Mad River Valley is known mostly to outsiders as a ski destination. While Mad River Glen and Sugarbush are just winding down for spring, warmer weather clears the way for outdoor activity of a different sort: canoeing and kayaking the fierce waters of the river that gave the region its name. In summer, fishing hiking and biking take over. Farming is a big deal here at all times; check out the scene every Saturday at the Waitsfield Farmers Market during the summer.
Go: For best results, fly JetBlue to Burlington, less than an hour’s drive away (jetblue.com). Otherwise, it’s about a six hour drive from Manhattan.
Stay: In Waitsfield, the only sensible choice is the Inn at Round Barn Farm, one of the most welcoming places to stay in the state (From $165 with breakfast; www.theroundbarn.com). While Round Barn feels like the home in Vermont you wish you had, design-conscious visitors should at least drop by the Pitcher Inn, a Relais & Chateaux member in nearby Warren that feels like a home in Vermont you saw in a magazine once (From $425 including breakfast and more; http://www.pitcherinn.com).
More info: www.madrivervalley.com
5 MORE WAYS TO GET SUGAR HIGH IN VERMONT
Maple Open House
Now in its 8th go-round, this weekend’s event is when sugarhouses throughout the state invite the public to witness what Vermonters do best. Some six dozen farms are participating, offering everything from sugarbush tours to DIY tree tappings (vermontmaple.org).
Maple Festival
After you’ve recovered from the sugar crash above, about a month later comes the main event: The Fed’s 43rd annual shindig in St. Albans, April 24-26. It’s more French than Mardi Gras, and arguably has better food and drink (vtmaplefestival.org).
New England Maple Museum
Animatronics are way less creepy when they chat you up about the sugaring process, like this museum’s host droid, Dr. Doolittle. Located in Rutland at the steps of the Green Mountains, there’s also plenty of exhibits, artifacts, interactivity and 100 feet of murals to keep the kids awake. Only $2 admission for adults, $0.75 for children (www.maplemuseum.com).
Sweet Maple Alpacas
Don’t call it a camel; Alpacas are generally smaller and bred for their coats (er, “fiber”) instead of carrying around languid humans. Here in Westminster, they also happen to live on a maple farm two decades in the syruping racket, giving visitors two thrills for one. Call or email ahead to set up a visit: (802) 722-9846; sweetmaplealpacas.com.
Couture’s Maple Shop and B&B
Jacques Couture isn’t just the president of the Vermont Maple Association, but he’s also a sugarer extraordinaire. Couture’s Maple Shop and B&B, in Westfield, sells their wares on site, and invite you to come on out to help milk the cows or pet the cats sleeping behind the barn. A night’s stay with breakfast (of course) and free WiFi (not so of course) is only $90 per couple (maplesyrupvermont.com).