SCOTT DETROW, HOST:
Whether it is on pancakes, waffles, bacon, or even - I don't know about this, but some people do it - your morning coffee, maple syrup has a completely distinctive flavor. And every year at this time, maple farmers in Maine throw open the doors to their sugarhouses to show the public how it's done. Maine Public Radio's Molly Enking reports, for one family of eighth-generation maple producers, this year has been a long time coming.
MOLLY ENKING, BYLINE: It's a gray, rainy March day outside, but inside the Greene family sugar shack, it's nice and warm. Three generations of Greenes are gathered in their sugarhouse, prepping for one of their biggest events of the year. So far, they've boiled down 187 gallons of maple syrup, Zoe Greene tells me, and it's only 10 in the morning.
ZOE GREENE: It's fun. It's kind of one of those things where you're amped up, ready to go.
ENKING: The wood stove is blazing, and above us, the ceiling is completely obscured by sweet-smelling steam, billowing from the bubbling tanks of sap that are slowly, but surely boiling down into syrup. Alan Greene is a sixth-generation maple producer. To say he's got it down to a science would be an understatement. To hear him talk, he may as well be a sommelier.
ALAN GREENE: Every batch that comes off that evaporator is different. Every batch has a different nuance to it. It has a different flavor.
ENKING: Soon, this syrup will be bottled and ready for the thousands of people who descend on sugarhouses for the fourth weekend of March for Maple Syrup Sunday, the height of what is known as sugar season here in Maine.
A GREENE: We want it to be fresh, so we make it the night before, and by noon tomorrow, it'll be gone.
ENKING: But it won't just be in liquid form. Valerie Greene has been hard at work whipping up maple cookies, maple whoopie pies, a local Maine dessert, and even spicy maple salsa. Mainers have been celebrating Maple Syrup Sunday for 42 years, and Alan Greene's father, Ted, was one of the founders. As the years have gone on, each maple farm gives it their own spin, from live fiddle music to maple cotton candy to tree-tapping demos and, of course, pancake breakfasts. I get a little preview of what visitors in this sugar shack will be tasting, a tiny cup of syrup straight from the hot stove.
Oh, my God (laughter). What? That's insanely good.
It has a flavor all its own - buttery, rich, with notes of vanilla. When I was a kid, we'd drizzle the hot syrup over a fresh cup of snow straight from outside. These days, Mainers carry on the tradition over ice cream.
For the Greene family, this year is the culmination of years of work. They opened their new sugar shack just in time for the season. It's about four times as big as the old one. Brothers Jason and Alan Greene say, their dad poured the concrete foundation for this building over 25 years ago, but he never got to finish it.
It seems like it makes you feel a little emotional.
A GREENE: Oh, yeah. Yeah.
ENKING: Is that 'cause of your dad?
A GREENE: Oh, definitely. This building was his dream.
ENKING: When his dad passed away several years ago, Alan Greene carried on that dream, finally finishing the new sugarhouse. The wooden cart his dad used to haul wood in is still in use, right next to the wood stove. Greene says it was his father's vision to have a warm, insulated place to work during winter weather.
A GREENE: Oh, it was miserable. I mean, there was nights where we were huddled against the evaporator to stay warm. The wind was howling. We don't have to deal with that now.
ENKING: Making syrup for a living is no joke. It takes roughly 40 gallons of sap from a maple tree to make one gallon of syrup. After all the hard work, Maine Maple Sunday is a celebration.
A GREENE: Sugar season is a rite of spring. It always has been. You know, the old times would come up to my father and say, I see you tapped, and they'd see the buckets on the trees. And they were - it was like a relief for them that - I made it till spring, I survived another winter.
ENKING: For NPR 瓜神app, I'm Molly Enking reporting from Sebago, Maine.
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