“Meaning they’re new.”
“Suggesting a more recent operation.”
Rodas nodded, his expression grim. But something else. Excited? Eager?
“By whom?” Ryan asked.
“I’m working on that.”
“What’s in the barrel?” Not trying very hard to hide my impatience.
“We’d best wait for Doc Karras.”
“Where do you buy sugaring equipment?” Ryan asked.
“Anywhere. The barrels are widely used for food storage. The tubing’s multipurpose.”
“The taps and bags?”
“Sugaring supply companies. The capture bags aren’t expensive, maybe forty cents each. Most small producers now prefer them to buckets. Slip the bag over a collar, run the tubing straight in from the tap, empty the sap into a collecting point, toss the bag, repeat until the tree runs dry. Bags are also better at keeping out bugs and debris.”
“Can’t be that many sold.”
“More than you’d think.”
“Can you purchase them online?”
Rodas nodded. “Got someone making calls.”
Karras was still on her phone.
I wrapped my arms around my torso, hands tucked under my armpits for warmth. Cold was rising through the soles of my boots and spreading through my bones. The chill coming from more than the weather.
“That an evaporator?” Ryan chin-cocked the fire pit.
“Yeah. Better than the cauldrons, but still takes a lot of fuel.”
“Seriously?” I snapped. “We’re discussing advances in the art of syrup production?”
“The woodshed’s beside this one.” Rodas ignored my outburst. “Not much left. I suspect the neighbors helped themselves over the years.” Turning to me. “You know much about maple syrup?”
“We’re wasting time here.” Rude, but I was freezing. And anxious. And fed up with the male-bonding routine.
“Then let’s use it to learn something.” Rodas took my nonresponse as invitation to continue. “During the growing season, starch accumulates in the roots and trunks of maples. Enzymes transform the starch into sugar, then water absorbed through the roots turns it into sap.
“In the spring, alternating freezes and thaws force the sap up. Most folks tap once daytime highs hit the forties. Around here, that’s usually late April.
“The sap then has to be processed to evaporate out the water and leave just the concentrated syrup. That means boiling between five and thirteen gallons of sap down to a quarter of a gallon of syrup. You can do that entirely over one heat source.” Rodas gestured at the fire pit. “Or you can draw off smaller batches as you go, and boil them in pots.” Pointing at the pots.
“Is this really relevant?”
Rodas grinned at me. “You need some coffee? I have a thermos.”
“I’m good.” Curt.
“The bottom line is, maple syrup is roughly sixty-six percent sugar. Just sucrose and water, with small amounts of glucose and fructose created during the boiling process. Some organic acids, malic, for example. A relatively low mineral content, mostly potassium and calcium, some zinc and manganese. A variety of volatile organic compounds, vanillin, hydroxybutanone, propionaldehyde.”
“Hallelujah. A chemistry lesson.” I wasn’t believing this.
“Sucrose, glucose, and fructose. Gooey and sweet. That bring anything to mind?”
Holy shit. I got it.
Before I could respond, Rodas’s eyes went past me toward the open doors. As I turned, Karras stepped into the light. Droplets glistened on her shoulders and hat.
“Good to go, Doc?” Rodas asked.
“Bring on the show.”
Rodas inserted gloved fingers under the metal lever securing the lid. Flipped it outward.
The lid lifted easily. But nicks and gouges on its periphery and on the barrel’s rim suggested much more effort had been needed the first time around.
Rodas stepped back, lid held up and away from his body.
Ryan and I moved in.
CHAPTER 22
SLEET HISSED ON the tin overhead.
The generator hummed.