edible seattle | Summer 2025 23 Devin recalls that the Canlis kitchen asked, “How much can you get?” Around 2015, the hobby transitioned into a small-batch business. Neil traded his propane burner for a commercial evaporator and invested in a reverse osmosis machine—a crucial piece of equipment that streamlines the sap concentration process by separating water molecules from sugars, vitamins and minerals. The machine leaves less water that needs to be boiled out of the final syrup. The team of three began to get serious about the science of sap collection, refining their techniques, deepening their understanding of the bigleaf maple and obtaining a commercial license. In the trees Leaving Neil to his work, Devin and I venture into a quintessential dripping day of the Pacific Northwest. Just a week prior, snow blanketed these fields, but now, the temperatures climbed into the low 40s. This is perfect weather to the McLeods’, since a good freeze followed by thawing temperatures translates into one thing: a bountiful sap run. With its expansive canopy, the bigleaf maple is native to the West Coast, thriving from San Diego to Vancouver Island. For years, the prevailing belief was that these trees weren’t a reasonable choice for sap production, since the sap has a lower sugar content than the sugar maples (Acer saccharum) popular in the Northeast. Unlike the East Coast, where the syrup season hinges on a single freeze-thaw cycle, the West Coast’s more variable climate allows for multiple runs throughout the season. Devin estimates they might get seven or eight runs, starting early in November and continuing through March. Devin toured me through a grove of maples, where we met with a network of bluish tubing, a complex system that crisscrosses from tree to tree. These tap lines feed into an extractor, eventually leading to large vats awaiting Neil’s ministrations. The trees surrounding us, standing sentinel along the marshy banks of the Nooksack River’s southern tributary, are truly magnificent. Some are old-growth giants, their trunks reaching 3 to 4 feet in diameter. The McLeods, mindful of the trees’ health, typically tap once per foot of circumference, meaning some of these ancient trees might have three or four lines drawing sap. Tapping maple trees for syrup is a sustainable, noninvasive practice that does not harm the trees if done mindfully. The McLeods are deeply aware of this symbiotic relationship, treating their trees respectfully and ensuring their longevity for future generations. The transformation from sap to syrup feels alchemical. To produce just one gallon of finished syrup to the optimal 66.5 percent sugar content, Neil must cook down an astonishing 60 to 100 gallons of tree sap. It’s a labor-intensive process that demands patience and a keen understanding of the trees. A bottle of Neil’s Bigleaf Maple Syrup. Since sap flows after a freeze-thaw cycle, the quality of the sap will change with the overall conditions: lighter earlier in the season, darker later on. Image courtesy of Neil’s Bigleaf Maple Syrup
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