Erin E. Moulton

The week I made Mrs. Grimm Fox’s Maple Cream it felt like spring. The earth was thawing and we stepped out of our houses and ran barefoot alongside snowbanks just for the feel of grass between our toes. Besides water rushing down gutters and driveways, sap had also begun to move, and those heaven-sent people who make maple syrup had fired up their evaporators. In other words, sugaring season had begun.

As a native Vermonter my love for maple syrup is perhaps a little in the extreme. I still remember field trips to sugar shacks as a kid. The smell of sap and the warmth coming off the evaporator is both nostalgic and sublime to me. When Maple Weekend rolls around, to each her own, I say. Maple cream? Yes. Maple candy? Definitely. Maple mustard and pretzels? Uh-huh.

So obviously, when you all picked Mrs. Grimm Fox’s Maple Cream as the next recipe. Oh, baby, I could get behind that. Especially since I already had several quarts of maple syrup lying around the house thanks to PopPop. Every spring, that man will fill any type of glass jar with the stuff and stick a lid on so tight you need nothing short of a pipe wrench to yank it off. Nevertheless, I’m always happy to see the various jars arrive in my kitchen.  

Eyeing our supply, I grabbed the Out of Vermont Kitchens cookbook and began to examine Mrs. Grimm Fox’s instructions.

The Maple Cream

Transcription: Maple Cream Two cups of Maple Sugar One half cup of Cream. Boil until it threads then stir in one cup of butternuts. Pour into buttered tins and when nearly cold cut in squares.

To be honest, the first thing I noticed about this recipe was the handwriting. Look at the weight of the pen and the size of the letters. Look at the and artfully placed on the second to last line. It’s not shy. It doesn’t shrink away.

The second thing I noticed was the name. Mrs. Nella Grimm Fox. Anyone with the last name Grimm Fox has my attention for exactly two reasons. One, the fairy tale image it conjures. Two, they both looked like surnames and I wondered about the woman in 1940 keeping her surname.

Would the surnames and the bold lines amount to anything at all or were they merely coincidental? What can be made of such details? I wanted desperately to find out, but first, I had to cook this maple cream and there were a few immediate issues.

1. It called for butternuts. I’ve literally never had a butternut, much less bought butternuts.
2. It called for maple sugar, not maple syrup. I’ve never bought maple sugar unless it was in the shape of a leaf. And I wasn’t about to start boiling down maple syrup to make sugar…to dissolve it to make candy. You follow?
3. It said to let cool then cut into squares. I’m used to maple cream being something you put on a bread. Or eat with a spoon. Either way, it’s spreadable. And yet, cutting it into squares would indicate a candy.

Problems aside, I was more than willing to give it try. Because, butternuts are part of the walnut family. Because syrup can turn into a square candy as easily as sugar. And because cream is not hard to find.

On the first try, I boiled to the thread stage, as instructed, only to realize it wasn’t going to set. The thread stage is technically still a syrup as far as I understand. But who really cares when maple steam is filling the kitchen? Stand near the pot and take a deep open-mouthed inhale and you can taste the sugar on your tongue. Besides, failed maple candy attempts make for sticky spreadable goodness and a sugar spa for your face. No harm, no foul.

Before take two, my husband and I debated if threading might have been a looser term back then, or if Nella had been doing it by eye and was referring to the threads found at the hard candy stage. Either way, candy is easy enough. You want it more firm…you keep on boiling. So the next time I went in, I followed her directions exactly, but this time I brought the temperature to 266F. Right between the hard ball stage and the soft crack stage. In other words: Chewy maple goodness.

I let it sit until nearly cool and then bathed a knife in some cooking oil and started slicing. And testing. And slicing. And wrapping. And testing.

And it was…divine.

The minimal ingredients gave the maple little to no competition. The walnuts were just enough to add a pleasant crunch. Was it the perfect caramel texture? I literally have no idea. Was it perfect? Yes, yes it was.

Three ingredients. 30 minutes. An absolutely fabulous candy in your own kitchen.

My thought, as I dove into the archives was….this woman really understands me , I mean, maple. And I found out I was right. Not only did Nella win awards for her maple creams, but she knew maple syrup intimately, having run G.H. Grimm’s manufacturing business for much of her adult life.

Mrs. Nella Grimm Fox

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Nella Grimm Fox was born Nella Marie Grimm, 23 August 1874, in Hudson, Ohio.[i] She was a first generation American. Her mother, Esther Logan hailed from Scotland and her father Gustavus Grimm, known as Gus to some, was born in Germany.[ii]

Gustavus was an inventor who created and manufactured maple syrup evaporators.[iii] He grew up, got married and had kids in Ohio, but soon after, they had all up and moved to Vermont. Why? If you’re in the business of maple syrup, is there a better place to be?

Nella was a middle child with an older brother, Henry, and a younger sister, Helen.[iv]  She may have been born in Ohio, but it looks like she had no problem jumping right into the Vermont way of life. At the time, Rutland was a budding metropolis compared to its rural counterparts and was well known for being industrious particularly in agriculture and marble.[v] It was a busy city with plenty to do. By the early 1890s Nella was winning prizes for her maple candy at competitions put on by the Sugar Makers Association and was entering her Golden Chestnut, Prince, in the local horse show.[vi] She also was in charge of the church’s candy and vegetable booth at the Rutland County Fair.[vii] Can you imagine her crossing a bustling midway to do her part in hocking local candy and carrots? I wonder what agricultural fair entertainment was her favorite?

In 1900, Nella was living with her parents on Grove Street. She was 26 years old and was listed as musician in the U.S. Federal Census.[viii] She was written up in the Rutland papers for recitations, plays and solos, but I wasn’t able to identify her favored instrument. Her musical aspirations and public performances seemed to drop off as she aged.

One interesting thing was that both Helen and Nella lived with their parents, and were single, well into their twenties and beyond.[ix] How very against expectations of the time! In 1907, when Nella was 33, she even went abroad on a trip to Rome. Her reflections were published in the Rutland Daily Herald. Read on for her own words on the “Eternal city.”

Living in a well-to-do home, owning her own horse, taking trips abroad–Nella seemed to live the charmed life of a modern single woman of considerable privilege. Of course, no one’s life is unsullied by some tragedy or another and Nella had her fair share. Less than one year after her trip abroad, her sister committed suicide, in their family home, after a scandalous rumor had surfaced. This article is detailed, so skip as necessary.

A private funeral service of close friends and family was held. Among the attendees was one John Fox of Stamford, CT. A familiar surname! This would indicate that John may have been a close family friend or youthful acquaintance.

Despite the loss of her sister, Nella carried on. She kept busy and curious, she was part of the Hospital Aid Society and attended lectures that the Women’s League organized.[x] She likely worked or consulted in the family business, for when it came time for her to run it, she seemed to take it on.

Just before Christmas in 1914, her father died suddenly, of paralysis.[xi] It must have been at that time, or just after, that Nella took over the business. As you can see in this report of a fire at the company in 1916, she is referenced as the person in charge. She would have been a single woman of 42 at the time.

We know that Nella and John Crary Fox were old acquaintances based on his attendance at Helen’s funeral. Story goes that Nella and John perhaps dated for a time in high school.[xii] Both then went their own ways, John attending Phillips Andover Academy, Brooklyn Latin School and Columbia, while Nella stayed in Rutland and eventually ran G.H. Grimm company.[xiii]  But in June of 1923, Nella married John in New York. They returned to Rutland and John, reportedly, took over the company as business manager.[xiv] I wonder if the partnership was romantic or practical? I wonder if Nella wanted to hand off the business or not? I wonder if John was the business manager mostly on paper or also in duty? I don’t know the answer to any of those questions.

Just a few years later, in 1927, Nella’s mother, Esther, passed away from a diabetic coma and then John passed away of a heart attack just 5 years after that.[xv]

It seemed like more often than not Nella was alone.

She stayed busy with social clubs and community as is evidenced by the fact that she has her name in this Out of Vermont Kitchens cookbook, 1947. She seemed to still have a hand in the G.H. Grimm business, loved to travel, and also was clearly fond of gardening and the outdoors. Her regal lily was so famous it ended up in the Boston Globe.

Nella lived to be 95 years of age and is buried in Evergreen Cemetery in Rutland, Vermont.[xvi] When she passed away she bequeathed large amounts of money to the Rutland Community. [xvii] Part of that money went to the Rutland Free Library. I took a few minutes on Monday afternoon to chat with the director at the library, Randal Smathers, who explained that Nella had left funds to the tune of about 2 million dollars in 1969. Funds are released annually and can only be spent on materials and programs. She also bequeathed some fancy furnishings and Persian rugs which hang in the Nella Grimm Fox Room.[xviii] Isn’t that funny to think you could walk into a library program and find yourself staring at a rug that Nella toted home from one of her travels? A rug that likely spent time in her house on Grove Street. A rug that perhaps also knew the ethereal scent of boiled sugar.

A little bit of the past always sticks around, whether it comes in the form of old furnishings, or an elegant handwriting scrawled in a weathered cookbook…imploring you to get some syrup and make a candy. In this case, Nella Grimm was a well-recorded woman who left many clues about a seemingly long and incredible life. She certainly left something sweet behind, both in charity and, here, in the kitchen.

When I look back at the recipe, the handwriting will always be the first thing I notice. Bold and elegant. Discerning. I wonder if Nella was born that way or grew to be that way, as one might when they outlast everyone around them. Either way, there it is, unfaded and clear. Easily communicating to us over the decades.

If this spring finds you in an abundance of maple syrup, I hope you give this old-fashioned recipe a try. And of course, think of Nella.

If you do try it, I’d love to see a picture! On Instagram tag @erinemoulton and #soulspunkitchen. And if you enjoyed this story, please like, leave a comment and share. Subscribe to be the first to know when new content arrives.

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