Every North American knows what to do with maple syrup, which is cooking up right now in Vermont sugar shacks from St. Johnsbury to Bennington. Who can imagine eating pancakes or French toast without drenching it in the sweet stuff? Italians. For the people of il bel paese, it’s a tough sell. I know this because I spent a week in Milan in the early 1990s, trying to talk up Vermont maple syrup to grocers and high-end retailers. I was assisting my ex-husband, then one of Vermont’s deputy commissioners of agriculture, in opening new markets for the state’s signature product. Because I speak the language, I was the designated pitchwoman for Vermont-made sciroppo d’acero. Communication was not the biggest problem. I majored in Italian at Middlebury College and was still pretty conversant at the time — though reading Dante’s Inferno did nothing to prepare me for the practical challenge of making cold calls from a hotel room in a foreign tongue. The fundamental dilemma was: To sell Italians syrup, first they had to buy into breakfast. They don’t eat much in the morning — usually a small espresso or cappuccino with a roll or pastry, often consumed while standing at a café counter. Our goal was nothing less than the disruption of a centuries-old culinary tradition in a country with very strong feelings about how and what to eat. Simply put, the Italians were baffled. I perfected my spiel and tried another angle: maple syrup as a substitute for sugar. At the time, some Italians were starting to get interested in “health food.” Explaining how the sap is made into syrup took all the language training I had, and I’m sure I botched it; the process is hard enough to describe in English. A few retailers wanted to know more, and my ex and I made some in-person sales calls. Did I mention we were woefully underdressed in one of Europe’s most fashionable cities — no doubt the only souls sporting Johnson Woolen Mills jackets on the glamorous Via Montenapoleone? Weirdly, most of those who had heard of maple syrup associated it with the opposite of eating. Mixed with lemon juice, water and cayenne paper, apparently, it was a key ingredient in what is still known as the Lemonade Diet or Master Cleanse. When someone first mentioned the word digiuno — meaning “fast” — I had to look it up. Meanwhile, a few countries over, Vermont was having better luck selling syrup to the Brits. Harrods of London had agreed to carry it. A tiny crew of ag development folks from the state department had been working on Europe for years. Some Vermont products don’t translate beyond our borders — and probably never will. But when they do, it’s the difference between Mr. Creemee and Ben Jerry’s. This week’s cover story is about Republic of Vermont, a small ag operation in Goshen that has grown beyond Green Mountain-branded maple syrup and honey to build a successful export business of candles, soaps, hats and home goods. The products are gaining traction across the country. There’s no telling how far they’ll go. The original print version of this article was headlined “Maple Milanese” The post From the Publisher: Maple Milanese appeared first on Seven Days. ...read more read less