There are a million things that can go wrong in the world, and many of them occur at brunch.  Long lines, small tables, and non-perfect food.  No one eats breakfast/lunch food out if it’s not going to be perfect, guys.  We can all make pancakes and sandwiches, can’t we?  If we wanted non-perfect food, we’d stay home.  We go out to brunch for the awesome.  For the amazing.  For the they-really-put-all-those-things-in-one-thing? turning out to be the BEST FOODSTUFF EVER.  Or maybe we just go out for really good eggs in the company of hipsters and kitsch.

Regardless, as a New Englander I feel strongly that the worst brunch faux pass is not having real maple syrup.

High fructose corn syrup with “maple flavoring” is NOT maple syrup people.  For some, it is a travesty because corn subsidies and it makes you fat or whatever else.  This is not my point.  Mine is that maple syrup is the nectar of the breakfast gods and I refuse to eat your dry-ass pancakes without some liquid nirvana making them palatable.  Real syrup upgrades BACON.  I come to brunch for many things, but first among them is the boiled-down blood of the sugar maple.  If I am not one step away from being a tree vampire, it is not brunch time.  That makes it lunch time, because at least with a grilled cheese sandwich I do not feel inherently betrayed by the lack of syrup.  I am also not a fan of paying extra for real syrup, but as long as it’s not five bucks I’ll do it because I know the good stuff costs.

Also: Grade B is the best grade and we other New England states have let Vermonters pull the maple wool over our eyes for too long.  And they know their syrup.  They want fake syrup passed off as the real thing to be a prosecutable offense.