Today the practice of connecting particular foods with geographic places seems to require little explanation, for we have been conditioned by hundreds of years of advertising and marketing that makes local products seem like a simple product of nature. But as Michael Lange shows in this accessible monograph, it takes time, cultural work, political and social mobilization, and the right confluence of economic circumstances and ecology to make a place synonymous with a commodity. Though Vermont as a state produces a relatively small proportion of the total amount of North American maple syrup, the sugar derived from the sap of maple trees has become iconic, essential to the geographic identity of the state, and part of the way people understand the relationship with nature.
Tracing the origin and cultural implications of a single foodstuff has become a cliché in food studies, with entire book series now devoted to the biographies of everything from maraschino cherries to the English breakfast. This book stands out from the pack in having an unusual depth of ethnography, a strong command of contemporary social theory, and close attention to the actual labor and mechanical processes involved in production and marketing, the materiality of the stuff. Lange has clearly spent a good chunk of his life in Vermont sugarhouses, at trade association meetings and conferences, and tramping through the late winter forest to unwind the miles of plastic tubing which now connect trees with the houses where reverse osmosis and evaporators reduce the thin sap to thick syrup.
Perhaps the most innovative part of the book is the close attention Lange gives to the process of judging quality and taste, as he depicts a changing market where the dark syrup which was once the lowest grade has now become the most desirable to many because its more intense flavor seems more earthy and natural. Lange’s discussion of how producers adopt new technology while maintaining connections with the natural environment and the past is also thoughtful and worthwhile. He sheds a clear light on the construction of authenticity in modern craft markets, on the anxiety about large corporations destroying the local systems that keep rural economies alive, and the way new forms of local identification and branding manage to sustain people in a market that favors efficiency and price competition. He answers the question of how the “local” and “traditional” can survive in late capitalism.
Given the importance of history and memory in creating the association between syrup and state, the book is actually very light on regional cultural and economic history, and I would have liked to hear more about the way people in Vermont imagine and give meaning to place and draw social boundaries, particularly related to class and urban/rural differences. The book would also be improved by a more critical engagement with the burgeoning literature on terroir and PDO (protected designation of origin) systems that give legal protection to products based on location and craft. These minor issues are far outweighed by Lange’s clear writing, command of the literature, and knowledge of the subject. These would make it a very useful monograph for a course on food and culture, and in any classroom where the connection between commodities and places is being discussed. The book manages to imbue what is really a minor part of our food system with much broader meaning. At the end of the book this reader found that he had learned far more about maple syrup and sugar than he ever wanted to know, but in the process had acquired a clearer sense of how food and place come to share a common identity. Readers in New England will probably find that many of the details resonate with their own experience and open important issues about an area going through dramatic post-industrial changes.
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[Review length: 632 words • Review posted on October 11, 2018]