A maple leaf is mounted on a pole in Plessisville, one of two Quebec cities that have styled themselves as the world's top provider of maple syrup.Renaud Philippe/The Globe and Mail
Inside a bottling plant in a small city in central Quebec stands a life-size statue of the Virgin Mary holding the baby Jesus. In one tiny hand, the infant bears a maple leaf, held aloft to summon the faithful.
If maple syrup is not quite a religion in these parts, it certainly inspires fervour. Families in Plessisville have tapped the same trees for generations, harvesting sap to be transformed into liquid gold and shipped around the globe.
For 50 years, this place has called itself the Capitale mondiale de l’Érable – the maple capital of the world. It was made official in 1993, when the city registered the title as a trademark.
So it was with great irritation that Marc Morin, the mayor of Plessisville, learned earlier this year that another city not even 200 kilometres away had registered its own trademark. The Montreal suburb of Mirabel is now, officially, the Capitale internationale de l’Érable – the international maple capital.
The depth of Mr. Morin’s displeasure is not easy to translate. “J’étais en tabarnak,” he said.
Plessisville Mayor Marc Morin walks in the woods near the sugar bush of Pierre Fortier, a fifth-generation owner of the family-run operation.Renaud Philippe/The Globe and Mail
Last month, Plessisville sent a strongly worded letter to Mirabel demanding that it give up its “virtually identical” trademark. Mirabel says it won’t.
For a community that helped turn Quebec into the world’s dominant maple syrup producer, Mirabel’s new title is a slap in the face. It’s not that anything concrete is at stake – Mirabel is quick to say it’s not trying to compete. But to Plessisville, this is akin to a case of stolen identity.
“I feel like I’ve been robbed,” said Pierre Fortier, fifth-generation owner of a family sugar bush near Plessisville. “We’re the ones who did it all.”
With 9,500 residents, Plessisville might seem like a small town with a small-town quibble. But in truth, it has a strong claim to being the maple capital of the world.
The plant where the statue of Notre-Dame des Érables stands watch is Citadelle, a producers’ cooperative formed a century ago to improve the quality of maple sugar and syrup and to boost prices. Today, Citadelle exports syrup to more than 45 countries.
A view of the historic Citadelle syrup producers' cooperative, which exports the good to more than 45 countries.Renaud Philippe/The Globe and Mail
Pope Pius XII sanctioned the Notre-Dame des Érables as an object of devotion in 1957, when a Quebec cardinal travelled to Rome to make the request on behalf of syrup producers. Five thousand replicas were then distributed to sugar shacks.
Plessisville is also home to one of three warehouses that make up the world’s only maple syrup reserve. It can hold up to 95,000 barrels of the stuff – or about 52 million pounds.
The city hosts an annual maple festival, which celebrated its 68th year this spring. And when Canadian astronaut Jeremy Hansen flew around the moon earlier this year, he had with him a supply of maple syrup from – well, you get the picture.
“We could have called ourselves the interstellar capital,” Mr. Morin said.
A couple shares maple taffy at a gathering in Plessisville in 1940.Supplied
Mirabel and its 68,000 residents have their own bragging rights, of course. The city’s tourism agency, which registered the offending trademark in January, advertises around 30 sugar shacks and syrup boutiques. They include the renowned Au pied de cochon, where the menu is heavy on foie gras and reservations are near-impossible to nab.
But that’s just it, according to Mr. Morin. Mirabel may have its flashy hotspots, but the hardworking folks of Plessisville have maple syrup running through their veins. “It’s disrespectful,” he said.
For anyone swayed only by cold, hard numbers, those also work in Plessisville’s favour. According to the industry group representing Quebec maple syrup producers, the central Quebec region that includes Plessisville produces 23.7 million pounds of syrup annually, compared to a piddling 8.8 million pounds coming out of the western region that includes Mirabel. So there’s that.
Meanwhile, Mirabel has met Plessisville’s ire with a sort of bemused shrug. In an interview, Mayor Roxanne Therrien responded to the conflict with the air of a weary parent dealing with a petulant child.
“I have other fish to fry,” she said.
One of three warehouses that make up the world’s only maple syrup reserve is located in Plessisville.Renaud Philippe/The Globe and Mail
Mirabel doesn’t dispute Plessisville’s heritage, and Ms. Therrien said she was taken aback by Mr. Morin’s two-and-a-half-page letter. The two mayors had met twice earlier in the year – once at Au pied de cochon, no less. Ms. Therrien said her counterpart mentioned the new title was an “irritant,” but didn’t make more of it than that.
Stéphane Michaud, founding president of Mirabel’s tourism agency, said both cities had planned to work together to showcase Quebec’s maple industry before everything went sideways. He said he doesn’t understand what happened. “This is by no means meant to overshadow anyone – not at all.”
Still, Mirabel won’t back down. The tourism agency has already spent a bunch of money on new branding, Ms. Therrien said. And anyway, why should they?
“It doesn’t take anything away from a city’s history, heritage or identity if another city decides to highlight maple as well,” she said.
Despite Plessisville’s swagger, its options are limited. Mr. Morin doesn’t plan to take further action if Mirabel stands its ground. He just hopes the rival city will see the light.
If it doesn’t, probably nothing material will change. “It’s a tempest in a sap pot,” said Peter Kuitenbrouwer, a journalist and forester who published a recent book on the history of maple syrup.
But called on to take sides, he didn’t hesitate. Plessisville is the “nerve centre” of the maple syrup industry, Mr. Kuitenbrouwer said, calling Mirabel’s claim “absurd.” His book includes a map of maple syrup country, stretching from Michigan to Nova Scotia. Plessisville is featured. Mirabel is not.
Mr. Morin said he tried to avoid conflict with Mirabel. He even suggested alternate titles, such as the Perle de l’Érable – the maple pearl. But now, the mayor who carries around maple candies in his pocket can’t avoid a hint of bitterness. “It’s just a marketing ploy. There’s nothing international about them,” he said.
“Maple is in our genes.”