Even though I’ve lived in Europe for over thirty years now, there are still some American childhood tastes and flavours that stay with me. It’s like they are engraved in my tastebud DNA. One of these is maple syrup.
My partner, Irish to his marrow, cannot understand my fondness for sweet potato. (When I have Thanksgiving with other American-born friends he will pass on any sort of squash too, including pumpkin pie – my favourite.)
But, having a sweet tooth, he does understand my fondness for maple syrup, which to me is a sort of superior honey.
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