Stirring the Cauldron

New Moon Newsletters from Jessica Prentice

New Sap Moon

February moondark kitchen notes
from Jessica Prentice

The moon is new! We have entered the lunar cycle known as the Sap Moon in old Farmers Almanacs and among many indigenous peoples throughout the north and northeast of this continent. While the world might still be covered in snow and the winter might seem like it will go on and on, the trees know when spring is coming and the sap begins to run up from the roots and out to the branches to begin the process of making leaves.

My partner just spent a day pruning back our apple trees -- a thing to do before the sap begins to run and form leaves on the trees. My plan is to take the time to thin out and then harvest the apples this year, and maybe get a big cauldron of apple butter stirring over an open fire come fall. We'll see what all the best intentions leads to!

In the northern parts of this continent, the Sap Moon long meant an annual opportunity to collect your buckets and taps and head for your 'sugar bush' -- the grove of maple trees that you would tap for sap that you would boil down into syrup. Maple syrup is still one of those quintessentially seasonal and regional products. The sugar maple only grows in a particular climate, and the sap only runs once a year. The vast majority of the world's maple syrup is produced in Canada, followed by the New England states, especially Vermont. And while much of what America thinks of as 'maple syrup' is now corn syrup with maple flavoring added, enough people know the difference that good quality maple syrup is still readily available and widely used and appreciated, and this age-old industry still thrives in the north and northeast woodlands.

But the sugar maple isn't the only tree humans have tapped for sap.

The native peoples of the northeast tapped not only all six species of maple trees, but six species of birch trees as well, and also butternut and hickory trees. When European settlers arrived, they began tapping the sugar maple and also the black birch. The birch sap ran at the same time as the maple, but for slightly longer; and so it was not unusual to collect maple sap for a period of weeks and then move the whole operation from the sugar bush to a grove of birch trees and tap those. Tapping birch was not a new discovery in the 'new world' -- birch trees had been tapped for centuries in northern Europe. Birch was an ancient sacred tree in the 'old world,' traditionally planted on the grave of a relative so that as the tree grew the deceased could climb toward heaven. Siberian shamans would climb birch trees as part of ceremonial rites, feeling birch to offer access to the realms of the sacred. Russian villagers used birch sap with mint leaves to make a traditional kvass, considered a spring tonic.

While maple sap is extremely sweet and lends itself to boiling down for syrup and sugar, birch sap is not nearly as sweet and was primarily used among Europeans and European-Americans for a slightly different purpose: it was fermented into beer or wine. It is not even quite sweet enough to ferment on its own (to boil maple sap into syrup, 40 gallons of sap are needed to produce 1 gallon of syrup; for birch, 150 gallons of sap are needed to produce 1 gallon of syrup). But with an active constituent called methyl salicylate, birch sap was delicious, having the flavor we have come to know as "wintergreen." It was also nourishing and medicinal and valued for its analgesic (pain-killing) and anti-inflammatory properties.

In order to make a beer, sugar, honey, or maple syrup would be added to the sap to make is sweet enough to ferment. Here is a recipe from around 1600, printed in Martha Washington's Booke of Cookery:

I take note that this recipe was written during the height of the Atlantic slave trade, and remember that the Washingtons themselves were slave owners. It strikes me as especially poignant since one of the other stories I found about the fermentation of tree sap is from the Fante people of what is now Ghana -- in an area of Africa that was heavily exploited by slave traders. While the sap being fermented by the Washingtons was from the birch tree, the sap being fermented by the Fante people was from the palm tree, and this is the story they told of its discovery:

A number of varieties of palm trees are tapped for their sweet sap throughout Africa and Asia, as well as in the Americas. The sap is fermented into countless variations of alcohol, being sweet enough to ferment without adding any other sweetener. It is also sweet enough to be boiled down into sugar that ranges from soft and sticky to dry and crumbly and is used extensively as a sweetener in countries where the palm is prodigious. It is the source of the well-known jaggery or gur used in India, and the palm sugar used in Southeast Asia as an indispensable part of the cuisine. The Thai food writer Kasma Loha-Unchit describes one scene of making sugar from the sap of the coconut palm in her beautiful book, It Rains Fishes:

I have been using palm sugar as an ingredient in Thai curries for years, but was surprised to find how similar the process used to make it is to that of maple syrup. While it is hard to imagine a tree more quintessentially 'northern woodlands' than the maple and one more perfectly tropical than the palm, they are both prodigious producers of a sweet sap ideally suited to being turned into healthful, local sugar. Both maple syrup and palm sugar are steeped in history and both are still in extensive use today. My respect for the palm has deepened greatly.

Another sap surprise I had while researching this piece was prompted by my recent interest in the Maya. I've been reading the wonderful work of Martín Prechtel, a shaman who received his training in the Guatemalan highlands among the Tzutujil Maya. He mentions in one of his books coming across chicle trees slashed by chicleros. Like many students of Spanish and travelers to Latin America, I knew "chicle" as chewing gum sold by street venders throughout Mexico. But I didn't know about the chicle tree -- Manilkara zapota -- which is tapped by chicleros who slash the tree in a criss-cross pattern and then catch the milky liquid in large bags. This liquid is cooked down in huge cauldrons that must be constantly stirred. When the chicle is thick enough, it is cooled into blocks called marquetas and sold. This chicle was used as the primary ingredient in gum during the height of the American chewing gum industry, which peaked during World War II.

Unfortunately, M. zapota was over-harvested. It takes 3-8 years for a chicle tree to recover from a tapping, and the wild trees ran dry after too many repeated tappings. The chewing gum industry developed petroleum-based substitutes at the same time that the natural resource was depleted. So while the Mayan communities that depended on income from chicle were hurt hard, the American chewing gum industry continued to prosper.

I was excited to see that a new, small company has started producing, selling and promoting natural chicle gum made from sustainably harvested, fairly-traded chicle. Their website has a wealth of fascinating information about the history and ecology of M. zapota and chicle production. For a photo tour of the tapping of the sap, go to: junglegum.com. I would have ordered some of this gum, but it seems to be out of stock. Which seems strange since as our Sap Moon is just beginning here in the North, in the jungles of the Yucatan chicle tapping season has just ended. I hope the company is able to keep producing this alternative gum made from this sap of a wild jungle tree and supporting the communities that depend on it for income. Partly because I want to try some!

I can't help but being struck by the vision of all these different peoples at different places in the world at different points in time, tapping trees for sap and then stirring their cauldrons over open air fires... Birch sap being cooked into a mash for beer at the Washingtons' home at Mount Vernon... A Thai orchardist with his cauldrons of coconut sap, cooking it down into sugar... Mayan chicleros constantly stirring their chicle to get it to be just the right texture... Russian villagers with their cauldron of birch sap, making their traditional kvass. A Fante village, brewing nsa and giving thanks for the palm tree... The Potawatomi people collecting hickory sap for use as medicine... A time when cauldrons of maple sap would be boiled down into syrup in indigenous and European communities throughout the northern woodlands, just at this time of year...

Human beings collecting sap from trees. Human beings stirring their cauldrons. Human beings transforming sap into sugar, syrup, beer, wine, ale, gum, medicine... Humans being nourished by the trees of the forests, the landscape where they live. May the sap of the living earth flow this moon, and for many, many, many moons to come... And may we always be grateful, and in awe of all that we've been given.

Following you will find a Sap Moon recipe from this hopelessly Sappy Cook.

Coconut Milk and Palm Sugar Semifreddi

Those of you who know me as a passionate advocate for local foods might find yourselves shocked to see me offering a recipe based on such tropical foods! But while I don't believe we should be importing apples when we can grow them right here, I think the ingredients in this recipe are exactly the kinds of foods it makes sense to import: healthy, traditional, naturally preserved foods that can't be grown or produced locally -- eaten as a special treat. The point is to be wise, not rigid. (And if you happen to have access to a black birch tree, try making the Washington's beer... Then we've just got to figure out a way for me to try it!)

This custard-like dessert is delicious and easy to make, and a great way to try using and tasting palm sugar if you haven't before.

Ingredients:

• One can whole organic coconut milk
• approximately 1/2 cup palm sugar, available at Asian grocery stores and large natural food stores (I buy it in hard cakes which you can cut into chunks and measure)
• a couple pieces of star anise, or other exotic sweet spice (optional)
• 1 Tablespoon best quality gelatin -- I love Bernard Jensen's, available from Radiant Life
• a pinch of salt

Procedure:

Heat coconut milk gently over medium low heat. Add palm sugar and star anise or other spice. Stir gently with a whisk or wooden spoon and break up sugar. When the liquid is hot, stir gelatin into mixture and add a pinch of salt. When the sugar has dissolved, pour the liquid through a strainer into 3-4 wine glasses, ice cream dishes, or little parfait cups. Allow to cool for a few minutes before placing in freezer for about 1/2 an hour or until just gelled. Transfer to the fridge if not ready to eat. The dessert will separate into two layers, one with coconut cream on top and a coconut gelee on the bottom. Eat with a spoon and remember that man with his wokful of palm sap, cooking it down to sugar...

The research in this piece relied heavily on the book, Sacred and Herbal Healing Beers by Stephen Harrod Buhner -- an absolute gem of culinary traditions.

For past Sap Moon articles, travel back with me to March 2003 & March 2002.