by Michael Farrell
Chelsea Green Publishing, 2013
Maple sugarmaking, as an endeavor, has not suffered from a lack of literary coverage. If you make syrup, chances are you already own Helen and Scott Nearing’s The Maple Sugar Book, which is a remarkably thorough, albeit a bit dated, look at the history and process. You probably also own the scientific North American Maple Syrup Producers Manual – this one’s the kind of book you consult when someone asks you what, specifically, the sugar sand on the bottom of your pans is. Besides these two pillars, there are dozens of first-person meditations on the pursuit, some decent, some awful.
We’re currently experiencing a maple boom in the Northeast, where everybody and her brother is becoming a sugarmaker, so we can expect another wave of books to hit the marketplace as publishers try to capitalize on this zeal. I’ll admit that when Michael Farrell’s The Sugarmaker’s Companion hit my desk I was a little skeptical, but I found it interesting and useful. It’s not going to replace either the Nearing book or the producers manual as my go-to resource, but it’s found a place on the bookshelf nestled somewhere in between the two.
Farrell manages Cornell University’s Sugar Maple Research Station, where he works on applied research and extension projects and oversees a 5,000-tap sugaring operation. The book is written in simple, straightforward prose, but the author’s academic background is evident in the scale and tenor of what he covers and how he covers it. Most of the time, this is what makes the book good. He introduces us to sugarmaking around the world. (In Korea they tap Gorosoe (Acer mono) trees for the sap; in the Midwest some people tap black walnuts.) He devotes a chapter to progressive marketing techniques, like adopt-a-tree programs, and nonsyrup maple products. One of the most welcome sections was a chapter on climate change, where he debunks the simplistic but oft-repeated idea that maples are going to disappear in the next 100 years and be replaced by oaks and hickories. We learn that, in fact, there are a lot of factors besides climate that dictate species abundance and distribution.
At times, the author’s academic background can be a hindrance, especially when the information drifts away from the practical. He’s a relentless cheerleader for all things sugaring, but things sometimes get a little la-la; for example, when we’re told how we might start a butternut sugaring operation. I guess you could apply for and receive a grant to establish a butternut bush in academia, but no one in the real world will ever do this on a commercial scale (or, one could argue, ever should in light of butternut canker). Still, the little tonal problems in the book are ultimately overwhelmed by the interesting information. I didn’t even know you could tap butternuts.
Overall, the book delivers. It’s full of sidebars and designed to be easily skimmable, almost a magazine format. It covers a lot of ground, so even if a section drags, you’re soon on to something else. If you’re new to sugaring, it’s going to help you get up and running. And if you’re an established sugarmaker, it’s going to help you think outside the box when it comes to what’s possible with your operation. Farrell’s optimism is infectious – so infectious, that I’m going to have to end this review here and go out and work on my tubing system.