Maple syrup sweetens more than just pancakes

Here are the things I learned from the hippies I lived with in Vermont during college: 1. Life is best lived with a frisbee nearby. 2. Nothing wakes you up quite like a whiff of an unkempt compost pile shimmying through your window. 3. Maple syrup is delicious in just about everything.

Growing up in Chicago, my mom was a big advocate of using pure maple syrup instead of Mrs. Butterworth's, Log Cabin or any other cloying imitation. But we poured it in only the most conventional ways: pancakes, waffles, maybe oatmeal. In the liberal arts wilds of Vermont (as America's top-producing maple syrup state - Vermont produced 750,000 gallons in 2012), led by my wise, unshaven housemates, I learned how to start my day with a strong cup of coffee sweetened with a glug of maple, and toast slathered with silky maple butter - syrup that is heated to 235 degrees, quickly cooled and stirred until it reaches a rich, spreadable consistency. I followed their lead in drizzling the sticky, caramel-scented syrup into pad Thai and pots of chili, and whisking it's concentrated sweetness into marinades, sauces and salad dressings. My blood sugar was likely at an all-time high, but I was happy.

This March, with maple tapping season underway throughout Vermont, and also in my current home state of New York (among many other places), I figured it was the perfect time to rekindle my love-affair with maple. Saveur's recipes archives capture the all-purpose power of maple in both sweet and savory dishes. Meanwhile, award-winning chefs across the country rely on maple as a staple sweetener, from Gabrielle Hamilton to Dan Barber and Grant Achatz (who prefers his syrup aged in bourbon barrels).

While developing a recipe for this column, I considered asking one of these chefs for their take on this early-spring elixir. But instead, I decided to go back to my roots. After dinner, my housemates and I used to spoon vanilla ice cream drizzled with dark, Grade B syrup out of ceramic mugs. Simple and bracingly cold, with overlapping layers of sweetness, I found this dessert every bit as enchanting as a blinged out hot fudge sundae. This time around, with the aid of a blender (a gadget our frugal household did not posses), I combined the ice cream and maple syrup with a little milk and whirred it into a creamy milkshake. It's a little bit higher tech, but that did not stop me from drinking it out of my favorite mug.