
Most of us buy maple syrup once a year, pour it over pancakes, then push the bottle to the back of the cupboard until Shrove Tuesday comes round again. That is a shame, because maple is one of the most useful things you can keep in a British kitchen. It brings moisture, a soft caramel edge and a natural affinity with apples, oats, ginger, chocolate and roast pork. But the bottle you choose changes the result far more than most recipes admit.
Two bottles of the same brand, both labelled "maple syrup", can taste wildly different. One is pale, delicate and faintly buttery; another is dark, almost treacly, with a whiff of coffee. Use the wrong one in a delicate sponge and you will taste it from across the room. Use the wrong one in a gingerbread and your bake will seem flat and thin. The good news is that picking correctly takes about ten seconds once you know what the labels mean.
Almost all maple syrup sold in the UK follows the Canadian grading system, which was simplified a few years ago. The word Grade A appears on nearly everything and tells you almost nothing — it is a quality marker, not a flavour guide. The colour descriptor beside it is the part that matters.
Colour deepens as the sap is harvested later in the season, and the flavour deepens with it. None of these grades is better than another; they simply do different jobs.
One more label check: the ingredients list should say maple syrup and nothing else. Anything listing glucose-fructose syrup, caramel colour or "maple flavouring" is a blended syrup, and it will behave differently in the oven — and taste thin and cloying.
As a working rule, the lighter the bake, the lighter the grade.
If you only keep one bottle, make it amber. It is flexible enough for a sponge and gutsy enough for a ginger cake.
Maple syrup is roughly two-thirds sugar and one-third water, so it cannot be swapped spoon for spoon with caster sugar. It is also slightly acidic, which is useful once you know about it.
These are starting points, not laws. Cakes made entirely with maple will always be more moist and slightly denser than their sugar-made cousins, which is often exactly what you want in a loaf cake or a traybake.
Maple sits beautifully alongside the things we actually cook here. In October, drizzle amber maple over roasted apples and blackberries, or stir a spoonful into porridge with toasted hazelnuts. For Bonfire Night, dark maple is superb in parkin and in a glaze for sausages. Through December, brush a mixture of dark maple, mustard and cider vinegar over a gammon joint, and toss parsnips and carrots in the same before roasting. In January it lifts a plain sponge or a bowl of yoghurt and toasted oats. Come Shrove Tuesday, warm amber maple with a knob of butter and a pinch of sea salt for the best pancake sauce there is.
Real maple syrup keeps well but not indefinitely at room temperature. Once opened, store it in the fridge; it will last many months there. If a little mould appears on the surface, skim it off, then bring the syrup to a gentle boil and decant into a clean bottle — it is fine to use. Never leave an opened bottle in a warm cupboard for a year and expect it to taste of anything.
To judge quality quickly, taste a teaspoon neat. Good maple has a clean, lingering finish and a flavour that shifts as it sits on your tongue. Blended syrups taste of one flat note of sweetness. A 250ml bottle is a sensible size for baking; larger cans work out cheaper per 100ml if you get through it. Buy a bottle you enjoy neat, and your baking will follow.
Hi, my name is Anthony kuber. I am artist and fashion designer.
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