The Sapranos

Allow me to introduce you to the most unapologetically Canadian thing that Canadians have ever done: The Global Strategic Maple Syrup Reserve.

This is not a joke.

Somewhere in Quebec is a reserve of maple syrup, protected the way other countries stockpile oil or wheat or weapons-grade uranium.

And frankly, I’ve never felt prouder.

Here’s how it works. Since 2000, the Québec association of syrup producers has run what is essentially the OPEC of maple syrup. They set quotas. They stabilize prices. They make sure that one bad sugaring season doesn’t tank the whole industry. And to do that, they built a reserve.

It is a literal warehouse of syrup (three warehouses, in fact). Rows and rows of shiny steel barrels filled with liquid gold, stored in secret facilities. At one point, more than 100 million pounds of syrup sat inside these barrels. That’s enough to glaze every Timbit in the country and still have leftovers for the Americans.

And then, because this is Canada and we can’t have nice things without someone going full Trailer Park Boys, it got robbed.

In 2012, thieves pulled off what became known as the Great Canadian Maple Syrup Heist. Over the course of months, they siphoned off 9,500 barrels of syrup — nearly 3,000 tonnes, worth about $19 million at the time. They’d rent warehouse space, move the barrels around like musical chairs, and quietly replace the real stuff with water.

It took a team of RCMP, provincial police, and, I assume, a few outraged breakfast chefs to crack the case. Eventually, 26 people were arrested (!), and the syrup was tracked across Quebec, Ontario, New Brunswick, and even into the U.S.

The courts threw the book at them. The ringleader was sentenced to eight years in prison and a $9 million fine.

All joking aside, this reserve is not a gimmick. Maple syrup is a $1.5 billion industry in Canada, employing over 10,000 people and producing more than 70% of the world’s supply, almost all from Québec.

It’s part of our cultural identity. It’s in our history. Indigenous peoples were boiling sap long before Jacques Cartier figured out which end of a canoe to sit in. And when the trees run sweet in the spring, it still feels like a little miracle — like the land itself decided to reward us for surviving another godforsaken winter.

So yes — we built a syrup reserve. And if that sounds quaint, good.

Let other countries flex with tanks and billionaires.

We’ll be over here, hoarding sap and running the world’s most passive-aggressive cartel.