Glazed Maple Shortbread Cookies

Mid-March and the daytime temperatures finally cracked into the high thirties at midweek, the kind of break that allows a small confidence to enter the body — not certainty, never certainty, but a permission to begin to behave as if spring is a real future and not a rumor. The snow began to consolidate, that first stage of a Vermont thaw where the surface crusts and the underneath softens and the whole pack settles by an inch or two without a drop falling. The ground at the south side of the house, where Helen's garden is, showed its first dark patches at the base of the foundation, the perennials still under their winter mulch but the bare earth beginning to register the change. I have learned over many years not to celebrate this stage. The deepest snowstorm of the year often falls in the second week of March in Vermont. But I have also learned to notice it, to log it, to tell myself: it is starting.

Tapped the first taps Wednesday. Forty buckets in the lower sugarbush, twenty in the upper, the rest to follow when the temperatures behave more reliably. The first day of tapping is always a long day for me — drilling, tapping in the spiles, hanging the buckets, the cold seeping into the gloves and the back beginning its old familiar protest by mid-afternoon — and I came in at five with the kind of tired that means the work has been honest. The dog had stayed home for most of the tapping, walking out to check on me twice and otherwise sleeping by the woodstove. He is too old now to follow me through the sugarbush all afternoon, and I am too old to ask him to.

The sap began running Thursday — slow, the first reluctant drips that mean the trees are still deciding whether to commit to the season — and I emptied the buckets into the gathering tank Friday afternoon. About six gallons total, which is not enough to boil but is enough to confirm the start. The boiling will come next week, if the weather cooperates and the run picks up. The sugarhouse is ready. The wood is split and stacked and waiting. The evaporator pan was cleaned in November and is ready for the first batch. The whole apparatus is wound and waiting for the season to release the spring.

Made the first batch of pancakes of the season Saturday morning — the buttermilk batter Helen wrote down in 1979, the cast iron griddle on medium-low, the maple syrup from last year's final boil. I ate four pancakes and the dog watched and got nothing because pancakes are not for dogs, and after I had finished I sat at the table with the second cup of coffee and looked at the bare patches on the south lawn and the buckets I could see hanging on the maples at the edge of the yard, and I thought: another spring. Another tapping. Another year that I am still here, still drilling holes in trees my grandfather knew, still boiling sap in his sugarhouse, still standing at the same kitchen counter Helen stood at, still doing the work of being a man who lives in this house in this town in this season. I poured a third cup of coffee. The day was just beginning. I had nothing to do except the rest of it.

That first Saturday — the cast iron griddle, the buttermilk batter, the syrup from last year’s final boil — reminded me that maple doesn’t need much company to be extraordinary. After the tapping was done and the sugarhouse was wound and waiting, I wanted something that let the syrup speak the same way it does on a plain stack of pancakes: plainly, without distraction. These glazed maple shortbread cookies are that same idea in a different form — butter and maple and not much else, the kind of thing you make when the season is just starting and you want to mark it without making a fuss.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 14 min | Total Time: 34 min (plus chilling) | Servings: 24 cookies

Ingredients

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
1/2 cup powdered sugar, sifted
3 tablespoons pure maple syrup (medium or dark amber preferred)
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
For the maple glaze:
1 cup powdered sugar, sifted
3 tablespoons pure maple syrup
1–2 tablespoons whole milk or cream
Pinch of fine sea salt

Instructions

Cream the butter. Beat the softened butter and powdered sugar together with a hand mixer or stand mixer on medium speed until pale and fluffy, about 2–3 minutes. Scrape down the sides of the bowl as needed.
Add wet ingredients. Mix in the maple syrup and vanilla extract until fully incorporated.
Add flour and salt. Reduce mixer to low and add the flour and salt. Mix just until the dough comes together and no dry streaks remain. Do not overwork.
Chill the dough. Turn the dough out onto a sheet of plastic wrap, shape into a flat disk, wrap tightly, and refrigerate for at least 45 minutes or up to overnight. Cold dough holds its shape better when sliced or stamped.
Preheat and prepare. When ready to bake, heat the oven to 325°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.
Roll and cut. On a lightly floured surface, roll the dough to about 1/4-inch thickness. Cut into rounds or shapes with a 2-inch cutter and transfer to the prepared baking sheets, spacing about 1 inch apart.
Bake. Bake for 12–15 minutes, until the edges are just barely golden and the centers look set but not browned. Shortbread should stay pale. Cool on the pan for 5 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely before glazing.
Make the glaze. Whisk together the powdered sugar, maple syrup, and 1 tablespoon milk in a small bowl until smooth. Add a second tablespoon of milk if needed to reach a pourable but not runny consistency. Add a pinch of salt.
Glaze the cookies. Spoon or drizzle the glaze over the cooled cookies. Allow the glaze to set at room temperature for 20–30 minutes before stacking or storing.

Nutrition (per serving)

Glazed Maple Shortbread Cookies — The First Sweetness of a Season Still Finding Its Footing