I remember the bundle scarf knit wrapped kid stumbling out of the warm wood doors into knee deep powder and thick forests, searching for the trees tapping syrup. Sticky sweet, boiled slow over fire until reduced to golden brown.
Today, a wild ocean away, scanning supermarket shelf, fingers run over familiar jar, recalling familiar sweetness of home. Back at the flat, old flavour is baked new as breakfast.
Pour it slow into oats, chopped fruit and nut crunch. Mix the olive oil and salt, and bake dry.