It’s no secret: Vermonters are fanatic about maple syrup. Wedrizzle it over our pancakes and smoked bacon, have it in our creemees andcandy, brew it with our beer; we flavor our lives with this sweet, stickysubstance. 

 The Vermont Agencyof Agriculture, Food and Markets, in partnership with the Vermont SugarmakersAssociation and UVM Extension, will hold three public meetings seeking comments on the proposed changes to the maple grading system.

Currently, the U.S.and Canada are the largest maple-producing countries in the world, and have completely different grading systems. In Vermont, an entirely separate gradingsystem is in place. For example,“Fancy,” “Grade A Dark Amber” and “Grade B” syrup only exist in the GreenMountain State’s markets.

The proposedchanges aim to streamline a variety of grading jargon into a new set ofconsistent international standards. “Vermont fancy” would be replaced with“Grade A Golden Delicate Taste.” The other grades would undergo a transformationas well: 

"It's going to be 16 degrees tomorrow night," I overheard a woman tell a couple who had just arrived from Florida, and who had just been seated in the tavern of the Kedron Valley Inn. If they'd be outside, she added, they should bundle up.

Sometimes Vermonters take a quiet glee in delivering deadpan news of impending "weather," and the tourists blinked back for a moment, digesting the news. For the moment, though, they were toastily ensconced near the fire here, pints in hand.

When the prospect of the first freeze is only a night away, our thoughts turn to places such as this. I'm constantly taking mental notes of inns with fires, but can still draw a blank when pressed to find easygoing spots where you can kick back with decent food and some flames. I'd driven by this South Woodstock inn on Route 106 dozens of times, but always thought this brick, Federal-style building looked too formal to be welcoming.

Bo Muller-Moore wears a lot of hats: He's a prolific T-shirt artist; a folk hero of local agriculture and the fight against corporate bullying; a thorn in Chick-fil-A's side; and a devoted family man and caregiver.

To judges at the American Mustache Insititute, Muller-More also combines a notable mustache with service in such a way that he emerged from 900 nominees as a finalist for the Goulet Award, an honor that annually recognizes a mustachioed gentleman who "best represents or contributes to the Mustached American community during the prior year."

The award, named for blustery actor Robert Goulet, honors the singer's "voice, trademark mustache, sense of humor, and black leather jackets, a quadruple-threat of talent the American Mustache Institute is proud to salute." 

With his signature black tophat and oodles of personality, Muller-Moore seems like a shoo-in for the award, but he faces some stiff competition: a U.S. Senate sergeant-at-arms; an auto-parts tycoon and NFL team owner; the former CEO of a San Antonio homeless rehab center; and an MIT biology professor who works to decode the human genome.

Muller-Moore was slightly surprised to be nominated. "I don't want to split hairs, but I wear a beard. I would argue that mustaches and beards are two very different critters," he says — but if the insitute isn't worried, neither is he.

1. Acquire some goats. (Remember: The cuter the animal, the tastier the meat.)

Meet Winston and Walter, our protagonists today. My husband Colin and I procured these lovely little fellows in May. We live on a small farm in Shoreham, just down the road from Twig Farm in West Cornwall. Cheesemaker Michael Lee makes a mean tomme, and it turns out that one of the biological imperatives of milking goats is ... baby goats. Most cheesemakers face a glut every spring of young male goats, called bucklings. 

We approached the business of raising goats not unlike the way we approached the business of raising cows, and raising a puppy: Acquire the animal, then figure it out. Our delightful friends Lucas Farrell and Louisa Conrad (of Townshend-based Big Picture Farm, purveyors of award-winning goat-milk caramels) convinced us that goats were a piece of cake and no trouble at all and super cute (admittedly, my words, not theirs — although if that blog isn't goat propaganda, I don't know what is). 

So we paid Lee $25 apiece of two mostly weaned wethers (castrated males) and piled Walter and Winston into a large dog crate for the short drive home. 

3 Taft Corners Shopping Center, Williston, 878-2850

I love Chinese food of every region, the more down and dirty the better. I spent Saturday slowly eating my way through the New World Mall Food Court in Flushing, N.Y. Knife-cut noodle soup, pork-belly buns, Xinjiang-style lamb skewers and the made-to-order soup bao at right were just part of it. I did it all.

But you know the joke about being hungry again in an hour — when I got home, I was still craving Chinese. I've heard for years from people I trust, including 7 Nights commenters, that while Americanized, Men at Wok in Williston was one of the best places around to get a great, quick Chinese fix...

Last week, The Splendid Table's Lynne Rossetto Kasper visited Brattleboro to take part in Vermont Public Radio's annual Listener Picnic. In between admitting that okra is her no-go and signing dozens of books, Kasper playfully indulged the audience for a few rounds of "Stump the Cook," during which listeners try to stymie her with five usually odd and disparate ingredients in their refrigerator or pantry.

For sheer strangeness, those from Charlotte's Jacob Edgar were unmatched: A bag of cacao nibs from his father-in-law; a block of cumin cheese, a favorite during the year Edgar and his family lived in Amsterdam; a mysterious, unlabeled spice mix picked up during a recent trip to Turkey; kohlrabi from their CSA share at Charlotte's Stoneyloam Farm; and a jar of Vegemite brought back from Australia several years ago. ("It doesn't appear to go bad," wrote Deirdre Holmes, Edgar's wife, in an email).

As is her way, Kasper plunged in with imagination and verve. She advised Edgar to rub the kohlrabi with the spice paste and then roast it to get “a lovely crustiness." Then, she instructed, make a broth for the cous cous with the Vegemite ("but just a teaspoon, thank you very much"). Into this, Kasper suggested, he could load cacao nibs, raisins, cubed cumin cheese, some cinnamon and paprika, fresh coriander, olive oil, salt and “a ton of black pepper.”

Our alt-weekly comrades at Portland, Ore.'s Willamette Week got into the election-season spirit by rounding up the "flagship" craft beer from each state and ranking each to determine the "President of Beers." (A blind taste test of 50 beers? Tough gig, eh?) The project began with this rousing mission statement:

Beer is liquid culture, and America’s tapestry of wildly varied laws creates very different visions of what’s popular or possible.

...beer birthed civilization. If, as many anthropologists believe, early human clans settled into cities to ferment grains, isn’t the beer ... a fair benchmark of its peoples’ progress? Why even bother with civilization—entering a social contract, punching ballots and paying taxes—if we can’t get better beer out of it?

Naturally, this Vermont beer geek paid close attention to the list — we've still got the most breweries of any state per capita, after all. Willamette Week's team picked Magic Hat #9 to represent our fair state, and it came in 13th on the list. Not a bad showing, but not great, either.

Local crêperie the Skinny Pancake will expand to the Burlington International Airport by this winter, according to a source at the airport and an article written by co-owner Benjy Adler in a local magazine.

The eateries, slated to open in mid-December, will include a Chubby Muffin kiosk across from the check-in counters and a full-service Skinny Pancake café in each of the two concourses, says Ryan Betcher, who handles marketing, leases and contracts for the airport.

Skinny Pancake owners Benjy and Jonny Adler began their business with a mobile cart in 2003. Their mini-chain has grown to include two restaurants — one each in Burlington and Montpelier — and a café in the Old North End, the Chubby Muffin. 

203 North Winooski Avenue, Burlington, 863-8278

Panadero Bakery is known for its tarts by day, but since August, it has been moonlighting as a pizza joint.

Perhaps joint isn't the right word. With low lighting and white Christmas lights dotting the space like stars, a near-magical hush overtakes the bakery on Thursday, Friday and Saturday evenings.

I was there last Friday, a little after 8 p.m., and all six tables were full. However, I was seated after a less-than-10-minute wait.

Let's do some word association. If I say "boy," you might say "girl." If I say "sun," you might say "moon." And if I say, "creme de menthe," you say... "blech."

Who the hell uses creme de menthe anymore? Well, at the now-demolished Harbor Hideaway in Shelburne, it was a signature spirit behind the bar, and formed the basis for one of two drink "concoctions" listed at the top of the menu, at least in 1957: the Green Mountain Boy.

The ingredients of the Green Mountain Boy are few but wince inducing: "Heavy Dark Rum," creme de menthe and lime. "This One Is Masculine!" proclaims the menu. (The other drink, the Harbor Cocktail, calls for New England rum, maple syrup and lemon — a more palatable but less interesting drink).

Intrigued, I set out to re-create the Green Mountain Boy. I assumed the cocktail drew its name in part from green creme de menthe, which is a nature-defying neon. Unfortunately, I only had clear creme de menthe on my bar, a bottle that had been bestowed on me by a neighbor cleaning out his liquor cabinet. I've had it for three years and haven't used it until now.

At first, I tried a light, aged local rum. The result was truly disgusting. The bartender who created this was on to something: dark, chocolate-colored rum — such as the Cruzan Black Strap Rum I eventually used — is necessary to stand up to the minty force of creme de menthe.

With dark rum and a generous spritz of lime — and no modern bells or whistles — this drink is actually decent, wisps of caramel flavors from the rum jostling against the vibrating menthol of the liqueur. And once you whip up one of these, you might pair it with one of the other Harbor Hideaway specials, such as "Consommé Madrilene" (.35) or Barbecued Chicken with Exotic Sauce ($2.25).

Green Mountain Boy
Makes one drink

Ice
2 ounces black-strap rum
1 ounce creme de menthe
Juice from half a lime 

Combine ingredients in a cocktail shaker and shake until blended. Strain into a cocktail glass, garnish with lime wedge (not shown) and serve.