Zoar Tapatree's Paul Haldeman
It's a cool late April day in upstate New York. Among a forest of maples, Paul Haldeman, drill in hand, is still, intently, putting in hundreds of taps.
Tapping? April? Every producer pulled their taps weeks, if not months ago.
He carries on among the forest of trees. Many of them over a hundred years old. Paul won't sell them for timber.
He's careful about how he taps. That way the trees can heal using minimal energy. This is a forest that will outlast him. That thought produces a smile, as he deftly moves to the next tree.
"We're putting holes in our friends," he says to me during a Zoom chat.
Those hundreds of late taps. The few small batches of sap that no one in his line of work thinks are worthwhile. The curious and funny looks he gets when he is in town gathering supplies. He's used to it by now.
What does matter are the trees. They are sharing their essence and Paul wants to honor and thank them. It's exactly what you would do for a friend.
Every drop of sap is a moment of time in the life of his friends. It's a gift. His craft as a syrup maker was honed around this principle. His duty is to capture this essence in a bottle, as a true representation of the wondrous complexities of Nature.
And that's the maple syrup in my kitchen. The story of "real" maple syrup.