When I married in early 2002, my husband and I chose a cruise to Cozumel as our honeymoon trip. While we spent most days eating pizza on the deck, we did make sure to have at least one meal a day in the dining room where feasts of epic proportion were served every evening. It was in those chandelier-lit tiers that I developed a love of fine dining and an appreciation of the art that is food plating. It is also where I had one of the most disturbing parts of my trip.
The evening began with cocktails with the captain. Jody and I, dressed in our finery, arrived at the theater with hundreds of other guests. Formally-jacketed waiters weaved through the crowd offering hors d’oeuvres and drinks on large silver platters while couples laughed and danced the hour away.
Once the captain had enough time to speak to nearly everyone, dinner was announced and we made our way to a dining room overflowing with flowers and candlelight. As our waiter took drink orders, we perused the menu offering a wide variety of appetizers: wild mushroom soup, risotto, salads, savory tarts. The sheer variety was mind-boggling.
As I eagerly awaited my turn to order – a bowl of mushroom soup served with crusty artisan bread and herbed butter – I heard something that stopped me in my tracks. Not wanting to seem rude, I waited until the staff had left the table and then whispered, “WHAT did you just order?”
Jody, it seemed, had ordered a bowl of escargot. For those not versed in French, escargot is snails. The man ordered a plate of SNAILS!
I am not sure about you, dear reader, but snails are not something I have ever aspired to try. As Jody sat there, happily munching away, the remaining rubber balls merrily bobbing in their butter-filled sauna, all I could think was, “Who on earth looked at those squiggling balls of snot and thought, ‘Wonder what that tastes like?’” After many offers to try a bite, and a great deal more laughter at my expense by our tablemates, we did move on to less questionable fare. Though I did not realize it at the time, the effects of that evening would linger throughout my life as I find myself looking at every ingredient and questioning what made our ancestors decide it was good for food.
This week, while we are looking at all things maple, my mind turned to the origins of this sweet, sticky delight. There are a few legends of how maple syrup was discovered. Early settlers learned about maple, as with many other plants, from the indigenous people of the continent. As to how the Native Americans discovered that the sap was edible, that differs from tribe to tribe. Vermont Pure Maple Syrup has quite a few of these legends documented (https://vermontpuremaplesyrup.com/history-of-maple/).
My favorite is the tale of the youth watching a squirrel gnawing on a maple twig and, when he did the same, discovered the sap was sweet. I’m not sure about you, but I can absolutely see one of my sons deciding if it’s good enough for a squirrel, it’s good enough for him.
Another legend says that a granddaughter of the land felt men would be lazy if they ate the sap, so she filled the tree with water and diluted it so that more work was necessary. Yet another story says the wife of a great chief used the water from the tree to boil the meat for their supper and was delighted by the flavor.
Regardless of exactly how maple was discovered, it is a major industry in North America. Forbes has a wonderful article on the upcoming Maple season and how the sap is harvested and transformed into syrup, sugar, and all of the other wonderful treats we associate with maple (https://www.forbes.com).
Maple is one of those ingredients that lends itself to more than just breakfast foods. Take a few minutes to check out the links above and then try a few maple-based recipes. There are some on this site. You may be surprised at just how versatile this ingredient can be!
