By Two weeks to maple season and the freeze-thaw pattern is starting. I can see it in the sugarhouse thermometer: below thirty-two at night, above thirty-two by noon. This is the condition. The trees are beginning their preparation and so am I. I drilled a test hole in the big maple by the sugarhouse Saturday and put a tap in and held a jar under it for ten minutes. Clear sap dripped into the jar at the rate of maybe a tablespoon per minute. Too early for the real run. But it is there. The season is coming.
The virus is in Europe in force now — Italy in particular, which is troubling to read about. The Secretary of State has said Americans should avoid travel. Vermont has had no confirmed cases. I do not know what this means yet for the maple season, for the visitors from away who sometimes come to watch the boiling, for the world generally. I notice I am thinking about it more than I thought I would be thinking about it in February. I am not a worrier. I am not an alarmist. I am a man who has been in situations that required clear thinking and quick action and I know the sensation of something that warrants preparation.
I told Helen. I said: the virus is getting closer and I think we should plan to have what we need in the house for a month or two in case we need to limit our trips to Burlington. She said she was already thinking the same thing. She said she had been thinking about it for two weeks. I said why didn't you say anything? She said she was waiting to see if I would notice. I said I noticed. She said she knows. This is how forty years of marriage works: you monitor the same things independently and compare notes when the evidence is complete.
When the sap is running slow and the real season has not yet started, you have mornings to fill before the work demands everything. Helen has been making breakfast apples since before our children were grown, and I have been eating them without thinking much about it — but this February, with the thermometer doing what it is doing and the world doing what it is doing, I found myself paying attention. It is a good thing to know how to make: nothing in it that spoils, nothing in it that requires a trip to Burlington, and it is warm, which is what a sugarhouse morning asks for.
Breakfast Apples
Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 20 minutes | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 4 medium apples (such as Cortland or McIntosh), peeled, cored, and sliced 1/4 inch thick
- 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
- 3 tablespoons pure maple syrup
- 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
- 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
- 1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
- 1 tablespoon brown sugar
- 1/4 cup water or apple cider
- Pinch of salt
Instructions
- Melt the butter. In a medium skillet over medium heat, melt the butter until it foams and the foam begins to subside. Do not let it brown.
- Add the apples. Add the sliced apples to the skillet in a single layer as best you can. Let them sit undisturbed for 2 minutes to begin to soften and pick up a little color on the bottom.
- Season and sweeten. Sprinkle the cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, brown sugar, and salt evenly over the apples. Pour in the maple syrup and the water or cider. Stir gently to coat all the slices.
- Simmer until tender. Reduce heat to medium-low and cook, stirring occasionally, for 10 to 12 minutes until the apples are tender when pierced with a fork and the liquid has reduced to a light glaze. If the pan dries out before the apples are tender, add a splash more water.
- Serve warm. Spoon directly from the skillet into bowls. Serve alongside toast, oatmeal, or eggs, or eat them plain with a spoon the way a sugarman would on a cold morning before the work starts.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 165 | Protein: 0g | Fat: 6g | Carbs: 30g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 40mg