There’s no doubt that I was a lucky child.
Why? Because I never had to eat “fake” maple syrup. In fact, I didn’t even know that there was any other kind of maple syrup in the world until I was a teenager.
My Grandfather and Uncle supplied us with a fresh gallon of maple syrup at Christmas every year that they had made themselves through the hard process of tapping trees, collecting and boiling sap, sugaring off, and sealing the bottle. When I was little, the heavenly stuff came in a tin can with pictures of snow covered trees on it and a log cabin. Quaint Vermont maple syrup at it’s finest.
Every time my Mom made pancakes, we’d pour some of the thick syrup into a measuring cup and heat it in the microwave. It would come out fast onto your pancakes, and before you knew it – you’d be having pancakes with your maple syrup, instead of the other way around.
But maple syrup? Not limited to the breakfast arena in my household. Anything is fair game – pork, ham, even a maple glaze for steak. What can we say? It’s an addiction.
So for my last meal on Earth? I’m not sure, but I know that it would include some maple syrup- the delicious taste wrapped up in the memories of the smell of boiling sap, the sugar shack, cold winter mornings, and my Grandfather.
This post was inspired by the writing prompt for NaBloPoMo, which we are participating in. Click the link to the right for more information! The prompt was “If you knew that whatever you ate next would be your last meal, what would you want it to be?”
