I was just thinking about recipes, maple and Thanksgiving. These three thoughts combined and produced an old memory, although what Thanksgiving had to do with it, I’m really not sure. When we were kids, mama would let us take syrup outside and drizzle it on the snow. We’d then scoop up the frozen liquid and enjoy our sophisticated home cooking. I would even check my Laura Ingalls Wilder Cookbook (I was very pleased with this book as a child) and read that she had her own version of the recipe. If I remember correctly, she’d put the syrup and snow in a bowl and then add milk. We tried her recipe, too, slopping everything together in a mixing bowl.
I thought everyone did this when they were kids. But, lo and behold, when I was stabbing at my taco salad during lunch and sharing my musings aloud, my husband looked at me quietly, as if he found it strange that I’d once nibbled on my front yard. What?! If Laura ate syrupy snow on the frontier, hasn’t everyone?! Apparently not. And now you know how.