The author taps one of the many maple trees at his North Londondery Township home. As a first-time syrup maker, he found the process laborious yet
The author taps one of the many maple trees at his North Londondery Township home. As a first-time syrup maker, he found the process laborious yet fulfilling. (Submitted)

Here's an interesting fact: On average, it takes approximately 40 gallons of raw sap from a maple tree to produce one gallon of maple syrup. Another interesting detail is that the window for tapping trees and collecting sap only lasts about one month of the year - and only when temperatures are ideal.

Combine these two simple truths, and one can easily understand why pure maple syrup costs so much for such a small amount of the sweet stuff. Now rivaling the price-per-barrel of crude oil, pure maple syrup has become such a prized commodity that it even spurred a large-scale Canadian syrup heist from a Quebec warehouse in 2012.

If you've ever tried pure maple syrup, you already know it tastes incredible, but it's really the rigorous process of collecting and sugaring that makes syrup so expensive.

That's why when my wife Erin and I bought our new home in Annville last summer, one of the many glowing perks included in our purchase was the dozen or so maple trees that lined our backyard.

As soon as I saw them, I began dreaming of harvesting my own liquid gold to pour generously over waffles, scrapple and pancakes. For the cost of a little hard work, I could tap our trees and create enough of the sugary breakfast treat to last us all throughout the year.

The problem was, I knew little to nothing about harvesting or processing maple syrup from scratch so I had to do my research.


During the fall and wintertime, I read as much as possible about maple sugaring. I visited blogs and websites, watched how-to videos on Youtube and I joined a Facebook group called "PA Maple Syrup Hobby Producers," which provided a wealth of information and instant feedback from fellow maple junkies.

I even visited a large-scale sugar shack operation in Tioga County, where I picked the brain of a gentleman who produces 600 gallons of maple syrup annually. In short, I became a man on a mission, and through all of my research, I acquired the knowledge and confidence I needed to successfully accomplish my goal.

The things I picked up along the way were fascinating - such as sugar maples are best for making syrup. Silvers and reds will also do the trick though, which was great news for me since all my maples are of the color-themed varieties.

Ideal tapping weather is when temperatures dip below freezing overnight and rise above freezing during daylight hours. Find a long string of these days in late February or early March and you're in business for steady flow.

I tapped 10 trees using 12 spiles, which I purchased online for less than $20. To attach the taps, I drilled a one-and-a-half-inch hole using a 5/16th-inch bit on a slightly upward angle on the south side of the tree. Then, I gently tamped in the spiles with a hammer, connected a small plastic tube and ran it down to a gallon jug for sap collection.

On days when sap flow was productive, I went around with a five-gallon bucket and poured the contents of the jugs into my bucket for cold storage. Ideally, it is best to boil off the sap within a day or two to prevent bacteria from breaking down the sugar content, but with my work schedule it just wasn't feasible.

I opted to keep the collection bucket in my spare refrigerator for a few days until I was ready to sugar down the sap on my homemade evaporator, and that worked just fine.

The sugaring process involves boiling the sap over some sort of steady outdoor heat source to evaporate out the majority of the water, leaving natural sugars behind. I stress "outdoor" because the amount of steam produced will chip paint off a kitchen ceiling.

Sugaring takes several hours, so I built a dry-stack evaporator box out of extra brick I had lying around the property. I laid an old oven grate across the top of my makeshift firebox and used beat-up pots and pans to house the boiling sap.

Fuel came in the form of downed branches from this winter's ice storms. Ironically, much of the tinder that stoked the fire came from the same trees that provided the sap. It was a great way to clean up the yard in a waste-free manner.

Water boils at roughly 212 degrees Fahrenheit depending on location and altitude. Sap turns to syrup at seven degrees above boiling point (219 for me). The trick is to keep boiling the sap until it gets close to conversion.

Each time my thermometer reached 215, I pulled the sap from the evaporator and transferred it to a stockpot for finishing off inside later, where I could more closely monitor temperature over the kitchen stove.

After my first evaporator session, which included one brick firebox collapse, a burnt pot handle causing a moderate spill of nearly finished sap and a frustrated rant of choice words that can't be repeated in print, I finally figured things out.

From there, everything went smoothly. My determined efforts yielded several glass mason jars filled with beautiful, amber-hued syrup, a clean yard, a stiff back and some dirty clothes that smell like a chimney.

All in all though, everything was worth it. I put in the time, tried something new and found success. Best of all, it gave me another opportunity to spend more time enjoying the great outdoors.

Nature always shares its bounty, and it sure is delicious.