Cider Archives - Neil Sowerby

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After a heavenly Hereford cider trail a true taste of terroir at The Riverside

As a hardened traveller there’s nothing I like better than a detour. On a recent road trip around West Cork I couldn’t resist motoring a few miles off-piste to check out eerie Coppinger Court, a ruin almost since it was built in Tudor times. Let’s call such a diversion ‘The Single Track Road Quest of the Tractor Perilous’.

Down in Herefordshire the roads to the (unruined) St John at Shobdon were an easier prospect. Six miles north west of Leominster we turned left at at sleepy Mortimer’s Cross, in 1491 site of a particularly bloody Roses battle, won by the Yorkists. Quite soon we were driving down an avenue of limes to what from the outside looked the plainest of country churches.

Inside, though, you’ll discover England’s most complete rococo ecclesiastical experience, fashioned by one of the architects of Horace Walpole’s Strawberry Hill around 1800. White wedding cake meets Countess’s boudoir. Simon Jenkins in his England’s 1,000 Best Churches gives it 4 stars. We loved it, too.

But not as much as we loved our evening’s destination, The Riverside, 15 miles up the Lugg valley at Aymestrey. It’s a 16th century sheep drovers’ inn set in a river loop, its hillside veg terraces steepling into wooded hills, for all the world like some English equivalent of the Dordogne. And the food self-taught chef/patron Andy Link is turning out is deeply rooted in his own Herefordshire terroir.

We dined on local snails, faggots, rare breed Hereford beef, a sweet cicely parfait, finishing with nettle cake with lemon and thyme syrup, matched with ice cider. All this and it still felt like a proper pub where you could prop up the bar with a pint of Wye Valley Brewery’s Butty Bach.

You can understand how in 2002 it was voted Great British Pub Awards ‘Best Sustainable Pub’. Andy took us up to their organic growing plots, hewn out of the hillside during lockdown by himself and manager George Parkes. Between here and the half-timbered pub proper is the row of three quirky timber lodges, in one of which, Beechenbrook, we stayed, relishing the combination of under-stated luxury, such as underfloor heating, and rustic seclusion.

The main buildings house further, more traditional (and dog-friendly) bedrooms. The bar areas are solidly cosy with garlands of hops and a wood-burner. There’s a wealth of walks all around. We chose along the river, promised the possibility of otters and kingfishers. Alas, no sightings. As a base the location is brilliant, foodie Ludlow 10miles to the north, Hereford 20 miles to the south … and a wealth of traditional cider producers to visit.

The apple of our eye in the midst of the Mappa Mundi

It seems fitting to begin our Cider Pilgrimage in the heart of Hereford Cathedral. Let’s call it a windfall moment as we strain to decipher a medieval Christian world view drawn across a stretched sheet of calf skin… and discover apples. So apt in a county of orchards.

This is the Mappa Mundi, created around 1300 by one Richard Oldingham. It is the only complete world map of its time to have survived and its 1.59 x 1.34m canvas is teeming with illustrated wonders representing geography and history, hell, heaven and the path to salvation. Quite disorienting. Nothing is in our ‘right’ order. Jerusalem is at the centre, the British Isles in the bottom left hand corner and at the top is the East – home to Eden and expected site of Christ’s second coming. Hereabouts, in ‘India’, are sketched two robed figures attending to an apple tree, one shaking a bough with a stick, the other sniffing and gathering fruit. Are they harvesting?

These are the Gangenes, described on the Mappa as a people who lived near the River Ganges and survived only on the scent of apples. Indeed, so the myth goes, should they smell anything offensive they immediately perish. Would that include Strongbow, one of those commercial ciders that have devalued a great traditional tipple?

*A traditional orchard. Image: Fred Friggens*

In search of cider with the artisan masters

We are in Herefordshire in search of the real deal. If the immaculately mounted Mappa Mundi takes our breath away, so too do the remarkable craft ciders and perries we encounter in their heartland. Sorry, Somerset.

The likes of Oliver’s, Littler Pomona, Ross-on-Wye, Gregg’s Pit, Artistraw and Newton Court are all small producer standard bearers, well worth a visit. There’s a true local pride in their achievements. The tourist board even promote Herefordshire Cider Circuits, recommending orchards along three cycling routes. Our visits are by car and we are circumspect sippers with narrow lanes to negotiate.

Just to stand in an orchard is to feel at one with nature and a unique heritage. All a bit farm gate yet, but cider tourism is taking off. Ross have their own on-site pub, the Yew Tree, while Newton Court have launched a purpose-built visitor centre, featuring a restaurant, cafe, farm shop and tour hub. This bright, airy space is a major investment for the Stephens family, who have run this 157 acre regenerative farm since 1991. I’d recommend ordering the locally sourced pork, apple and leek pie and sharing a bottle of Panting Partridge, their flagship perry (aka ‘pear cider’), or their acclaimed sparkling cider, Black Mountain.

After which joining one of their cider tours might be hard to resist. We wandered into the organic orchards with Paul Stephens, who took over the day-to-day running of Newton Court from his father Tom. Sheep graze among the pear trees, while he tells us of the impact on perry’s taste of terroir and individual pear varieties – with delightful names such as Flakey Bark, Betty Prosser, Hendre Huffcap, Butt and Thorn. He also raises the perils of fireblight, a bacteria that can wipe out trees that have taken decades to mature. Sudden attacks, no known protection.

*Tom Oliver imparts his apple-driven wisdom*

The same grim prognosis is repeated seven miles away at Oliver’s Cider and Perry, near the delightfully bucolic sounding hamlet of Ocle Pychard. Here we are granted an audience with ‘cider royalty’ Tom Oliver, not that you’d guess his global renown from the rustic surroundings and his understated manner. This man is a legend across the United States. Not in his long-running role as tour manager/sound engineer for The Proclaimers but as an ambassador for cider and perry, a mentor for so many aspiring cider makers. Nearing retirement age, he shows no sign of slowing down.

His is a working farm, the shop only open for three hours on Saturdays, but what a wealth of options to buy. Inside the former hop barn that is now his barrel store he treats us to one of his treasures. 20 years ago a single Coppy pear tree remained on the planet, tracked down in a remote spot by Oliver. Grafts have created young siblings but they are under threatened from the dreaded fireblight. So when we taste a work in progress sample of single varietal Coppy, a sherberty work in progress, from the ancient tree that produced barely half a barrel last harvest, we are tapping into something fragile and magical.

Another amazing cider destination In the rolling hills beyond Bromsyard is cutting edge Little Pomona. It was set up by James Forbes and his wife Susanna, who sadly died last September after a long cancer battle.

Hops, cherries and quince are all incorporated into ciders that push the boundaries. If you’re biking or ensuring you drive responsibly try their Hard Rain Hot Pink. Just 3.4ABV, it’s a ciderkin, made from the second pressing of apples with the addition of water, hops and blackcurrant. Check ahead for opening times.

Hereford Cathedral – an intimate voyage of discovery

Pomona was the Roman goddess of fruitful abundance, with gardens and orchards in her remit. The 18th century diarist and gardener John Evelyn published an appendix to his great book on trees under that name – “concerning fruit-trees in relation to cider the making and several ways of ordering it.” 150 years later The Herefordshire Pomona was one of the first attempts to fully catalogue the existing varieties of English fruit. Many of the apples and pears illustrated can be found precariously today.

There’s a rare copy in the Chained Library of Hereford Cathedral, the largest such library left in the world, containing some 1,500 books, dating from around the year 800 to the early 19th century, including 227 medieval manuscripts. In the early 17th century, when the bookcases you see today were made, chained libraries were commonplace, protecting the precious word. It is a fitting lead-up to the Mappa Mundi (adults £7.50) in its special annexe, but the surprisingly intimate Cathedral is packed with other delights.

A more whimsical fixture is the ‘extra leg’ of the 14th century knight Sir Richard Pembridge (died 1375), a veteran of the battles of Crecy and Poitiers. When his alabaster tomb was constructed, the effigy correctly showed him wearing the Garter insignia only on his left leg. The right leg was damaged during the Civil War. A replacement wooden leg wrongly included a garter, so a new alabaster leg, without a garter, was commissioned in the 19th century. The wooden leg has since been reunited with his tomb thanks to a benefactor.

Downtown– what lies beyond the Mappa Mundi?

IF you can’t get out to the orchard hinterland there are great places in Hereford city to sample. Our favourite is undoubtedly The Hereford Beer House. We went in search of a West Coast IPA but there was a choice of four ciders in tap, including Oliver and Little Pomona, and a general feel of cider country bonhomie.

You can buy a goodly selection of bottles to take away at the Museum of Cider, just across the river in Pomona Place (what else?). A Trust took over the former Bulmer’s cider factory and it opened in 1981. The family portraits remain in the old boardroom but it’s the ‘champagne’ cellars dating back to 1889 that evoke the legacy. Descend and you’ll find the racks where employees turned the heavy bottles of sparkling cider – what the French call degorgement.

On the main floor you can trace the worldwide history of cider. There’s a 300-year-old French Beam Press and a collection of watercolours depicting the different types of apples and pears, but the star attraction is a rare collection of English lead crystal cider glasses dating from 1730, when cider went head to head with wine as the toffs’ drink of choice.

An inspiration for Elgar’s Enigma Variations

The celebrated composer Sir Edward Elgar lived in Hereford between1904 and 1911 and there’s a statue of him and his bicycle in the Cathedral Close. If you cross the River Wye from here you’ll encounter another, tinier statue with the Cathedral as a backdrop. It’s of Dan, a bulldog belonging to its organist, a friend of Elgar’s. The story goes that they were walking along the riverbank one day when the dog fell in down the steep bank.

He paddled to a place where he could pull himself out, and shook himself vigorously. “I bet you can’t make a tune out of that!” was the organist’s challenge. Elgar took it up and the melody he wrote became part of the Enigma Variations. Let’s call it a Soggy Dog Story.

It’s all down in black and white

There’s wooden heritage aplenty in the rolling countryside of Herefordshire, notably in the timber-framed ‘Black and White Villages’. Devotees can even indulge in a 40 mile circular trail (above), kicking off in Leominster, an ancient market town whose Priory Church of St Peter and St Paul is another four star for Simon Jenkins. The edifice with its imposing Norman tower is actually the remains of a monastic settlement set on the edge of town. Don’t miss one oddball object in the north aisle – the last ducking stool to be used in England. In 1809 Jenny Pipes was ducked in the local River Lugg. Alas, her crime remains a mystery.

Fact file

Neil stayed at The Riverside Inn Aymestrey, Herefordshire. HR6 9ST. 01568 708440.

Full tourist information from Visit Herefordshire.

Check with individual cider makers for visiting times. If you want to explore further the delicious world of cider and perry CAMRA have published a brace of books I heartily recommend: Modern British Cider by Gabe ‘The Ciderologist’ Cook (£15.99) and Perry – A Drinker’s Guide by Adam Wells (£17.99).

21 July 2025/by Neil Sowerby

Drink, Travel

Blossoming Perry – ‘the best examples are the match of anything ever fermented’

Hellens, a Tudor manor house outside Much Marcle, has much to offer. One day I plan to take in its annual spring music festival, perhaps mooching around the knot and cloister gardens or the yew labyrinth on this verdant private estate. But most of all it’s their pear trees that top my bucket list. Imagine – in full bloom – an avenue of them, some dating back to 1706, planted to celebrate the coronation of Queen Anne. A stone mill and two large presses survive in the barn. In those days the perry from such saplings was as esteemed as fine wine.

Time has since taken its toll on this Herefordshire heartland (and the neighbouring counties of Gloucesterhire and Worcestershire). Perry sank out of mainstream fashion. Changing agricultural priorities saw orchards and hedgerows ripped out. Now when artisanal fermented pear juice is enjoying a critical resurgence, fireblight threatens to ravage the trees of this unique terroir. There appears to be no protection against this deadly bacteria.

Bittersweet musings then as I neck a bottle of Newton Court Black Mountain Sparkling Perry while I digest Adam Wells’ Perry: A Drinker’s Guide (CAMRA Books £17.99) – a hugely evocative beacon of hope that manages to be more celebration than elegy. It’s a wonderful, revelatory read.

I accompanied it with a digital peek at the Herefordshire Pomona, a 19th century illustrated compendium of apple and pears. Very rare, just 600 copies. Buy one and it might set you back £5,000. So beautiful, though. Alongside small producer standard bearers Oliver’s, Little Pomona, Ross-on-Wye, Gregg’s Pit, Artistraw and Newton Court are all, the true heroes are the trees.

In Adam’s words: “Perry pear varieties grow on trees that can age over 300 years and grow 60ft tall with 50ft canopies, that at their largest hold over a tonne of fruit. Their drink is harder to make, takes more care, than cider—but the best examples are the match of anything ever fermented. You can make it from any pears but most of the best is made from vicious, tannic, acidic, misshapen fruits called ‘perry pears,’ some so inedible that even pigs reject them. Each has a different flavour.”

Here’s a trio of hero trees which typify the fragile survival of the species. Their continuing existence is down to the sheer bloody-mindedness of their discoverers and protectors…

Flakey Bark

Thought to be extinct until Charles Martell (of Stinking Bishop cheese and Gloucester Old Spot pigs fame) happened to spot six trees on the slope of May Hill as he passed by on a horse and cart. These were the only Flakey Barks in existence, over a century old. The revival began. Adam Wells describes the taste of the perry they make as “an earthy, big-boned, hugely tannic bruiser whose flavours and aromas bellow of the land; a textural, visceral medley of petrichor, warm earth, pear skin, dried leaves, lanolin and smokiness, richened by dried pear fruit and peach pits. Try the Flakey Bark single varietal from Ross on Wye Cider & Perry Company.

Gregg’s Pit

That’s the name of one of the stalwart cider and perry makers of Herefordshire, 30 years and counting, with 14 champion Perrymaker trophies under their belt. It’s also the name of the 250 year old ‘mother tree’ of the pear variety of that name. Perry calls their bottled and draught perries “amongst the most pristine, elegant and pure of fruit in the world.”

Coppy

Now here hangs a tale. I first encountered it as a chapter in Dan Saladino’s Eating to Extinction (Jonathan Cape, £25), his exploration of the world’s rarest foods and their importance. I was lucky enough to taste a work in progress sample in the barrel store of Tom Oliver, arguably the most famous cider and perry maker on the planet (and veteran road manager of The Proclaimers). 20 years ago he tracked down the last remaining tree in a remote spot. DNA testing took years but eventually it was conformed as the real deal. The core range at Oliver’s Cider and Perry, near the delightfully bucolic sounding hamlet of Ocle Pychard, is blends, but he makes an exception for the scant amount of Coppy available. It was sharp and sherbety with the promise of great thongs to come. Another of those magical perry moments Wells celebrates.

Alongside Tom Oliver, I was also lucky enough to meet James and Susanna Forbes from Cutting edge Little Pomona and Paul Stephens from Newton Court on a recent visit to Herefordshire. All were amazing folk, passionate about their perry mission. Here’s the Herefordshire travel article I wrote for the Confidentials.

Perry – I put the the big questions to Adam Wells

Adam is a very busy man at the moment. It’s not just the launch of his book, the first definitive guide devoted solely to perry; he has also been shortlisted in the Drink Writer category of the Fortnum and Mason Awards for his work editing Cider Review. Somehow he found time to answer the questions of a serious perry convert.

Why is it important to produce such a comprehensive book on perry at this time?

I think perry has deserved its own dedicated resource for centuries really. It’s an ancient, fascinating, idiosyncratic, unique product and its best examples are the equal of any drink ever fermented. But in the last six years, whilst macro perry and pear cider have nosedived there has been a resurgence of interest in what I call ‘aspirational perry’ – perries of craft and care made with high juice content, with reverence towards orchards and varieties, in a range of exciting styles and in countries and regions all around the world. It’s these perries that the book exists to unpack and champion – and it’s a world that’s difficult to fully explore without insider knowledge. I hope that Perry: A Drinker’s Guide helps make that exploration easier.

After centuries of decline is today a golden age for perry? Or a final flowering of a niche drink?

I think it’s a really special time for perry. Not only in the UK, but all over the world – indeed the UK is arguably just catching up with the international renaissance that perry has seen for a couple of decades now in France, Austria and increasingly the USA. So I’d certainly hope it isn’t a final flowering. There are challenges, sure – they’re outlined in the book and there’s certainly no room for complacency – but almost certainly the best perries that have ever been bottled are sitting on shelves around the world right now. And in my optimistic opinion they’re only going to keep getting better.

From your evocative prose you are deeply in love with everything around pears and perry. As are so many determined small producers. What makes it so special? Compared, say, with higher profile cider. Does it really offer such a breadth of individual styles and why? What should we look out for?

I’m a big subscriber to what Rachel Hendry has brilliantly described as ‘compound drinking’. I worked in the wine industry for eight years, and am now in the spirits industry. Before I wrote a word on cider and perry I’d written about whisky for six years. And my love and understanding of all of those drinks directly feeds into and informs my love of perry – and indeed gives me context for how special and distinct perry is in its own right.

So I don’t know that I’d say that perry is more or less special than any of the other drinks that I love. What I would say is that it is comfortably the most undersung and overlooked of all those drinks. Arguably aspirational cider is itself a niche – and perry has only ever really been written about as almost a subcategory of that niche rather than a beautiful, dazzling thing in its own right, with its own flavours, textures, history, stories, characters, trees, messiness and excitement.

There’s so much that makes it special and unique – my book is hopefully a starting point for a broad and comprehensive celebration of all that. And of course my book merely builds on the work done by makers, campaigners and advocates worldwide for decades before I even knew what perry was.

A breadth of styles and varieties? Well there are over 100 distinct varieties of perry pear in the UK alone, probably even more in France and maybe more again in Central Europe alone, each with their own flavours and characteristics. There are perries at every stop along the sweetness spectrum, sparkling perries made through the pét nat method, the traditional (champagne) method, the charmat (prosecco method). There are fortified perries, there are mistelles – blends of unfermented juice with pear spirit. And, of course, there are simply beautiful still, dry perries. And these are being made by hundreds of producers in dozens of countries globally. So yes, there’s quite a breadth!

Are terroir and vintages important? Can perry improve with age or is it better fresh?

Lots of good questions there! I’d say that the answers to all of them are just the same as in wine. Terroir and vintage are absolutely critical, though producers will look to emphasise them to a greater or lesser extent depending on what they’re looking to achieve – just as in wine. There are blazing hot, super-ripe years like 2018 and 2023 which massively impact flavours, and vintages like 2020 (a personal favourite vintage, if a rather grim year) where phenolic and sugar ripenesses have achieved a beautiful balance.

Terroir has been written about in perry since at least the 5^th century AD, and can be as ultra-granular as a single tree. Since perry comes from a plant – the pear tree – it can of course be impacted by terroir, just as literally every plant, be it barley or grapes or apples or hops is. How much any given producer wants to showcase, that is another matter.

Ageing? It’s like wine again. Some – probably most – perry is best drunk young and fresh, when it’s all about those lovely juicy or zingy primary fruit characteristics, just as most wine is drunk in its youth for the same reason. But pears which have the structural properties to maintain freshness through long ageing – acidity, tannins, complex flavour compounds – can mature beautifully. I recently drank a Ross-on-Wye Flakey Bark 2017 which was as vivid as the day it was bottled. I was lucky enough to try a 2001 Moorcroft from Kevin Minchew in 2022 which was absolutely firing with flavour and far from at the end of its life. And I’ve even had a 1991 Schweizer Wasserbirne – a variety which I absolutely wouldn’t have thought of as a long-ageing candidate – which still had plenty left to give. So very little is known about the potential for maturing perry. But can certain perries age? Absolutely.

Perry’s is obviously a romantic story – from the precarious survival of ancient trees to the personal characteristics of individual pears. But producing it looks fraught with peril from harvesting to pressing. Why is this?

‘Peril’ might be overselling it, but certainly perry is almost uniquely challenging to make. Most of that comes down to the pears themselves. The challenges of harvesting from a 60-foot tall tree are pretty obvious – if the fruit doesn’t splat when it hits the ground you’ve about a tonne’s worth to pick up from the biggest examples, which doesn’t always ripen evenly. There are pears like Yellow Huffcap that refuse to drop their full fruit load and start rotting from the inside out whilst still on the branch. There are varieties like Thorn or Moorcroft which have painfully short ripeness windows – sometimes just 24 hours.

The physical make-up of pears mean they clog presses far more than apples do. Most of them are higher-ph than apples, so they’re more susceptible to bacterial infection. Their tannic structure means you can put them through a filter and they’ll still throw sediment on the other side and you can blend two perfectly clear perries together and end up with milk.

And that probably isn’t the half of it. So absolutely – great perry takes consummate care and attention. Which is all the more reason to celebrate the remarkable fact that it even exists.

2 June 2024/by Neil Sowerby

Drink

Kingston Black To Keeving – Why Gabe’s Cider Guide is the apple of my eye

This is Kingston Black. An awkward specimen. Not the most yielding of cider apples. The tannins in the juice can be raspingly bitter. And yet aficionados seek out gnarled old trees with a grudging affection. Getting its fermentation right is a kind of Cider Holy Grail – to achieve the perfect, refreshing balance between savoury and subtly sweet.

If that sounds a mite gushing, please pardon me. I’m just gearing up for October, officially British Cider and Perry Month. Perry, cider’s pear-driven sibling, has always played second fiddle, even with its commercial moment in the sun as sparkling Babycham back in the day. Lambrini is from pears too, surely proof that class is permanent? Not.

These days both fermented apple and pear drinks are being taken more seriously by craft creators across the land. Even away from the cider heartlands of Somerset and Herefordshire. Hence I find myself in an orchard in the Borough of Trafford (though to all intents and purposes, this is Cheshire hinterland).

*Dunham Press Cider covers all the bases in fermented apple (and pear) juice*

All the apple trees around me at Dunham Press Cider were planted by Chris Hewitt. He’s handy with a spade. A cherished further responsibility is as parish gravedigger. The family are woven into the village fabric, working the land at Boundary Farm for close on a century. There long before the Georgian pile of Dunham Massey passed into National Trust hands.

Chris’s decision to pursue cider making was a natural progression from his dad Alan diversifying into juice pressing in the Nineties. Ironically just 20 years after the original apple trees on the farm, attached to the Dunham Massey Estate, had been grubbed up.

Chris’s constant additions to the cider apple acreage (currently up to 23), his fortitude in the face of the frost and hail of northern climes, are an act of faith and an act of love.

*Gabe and Chris in their element in the totally natural surroundings of a Dunham Press orchard*

Sharing that love with us today, and to a wider public, is the man with the Cavalier moustache and a Messianic zeal for cider, who is cutting up a Kingston Black to show us what the pips reveal about its state of ripe readiness for picking and pressing.

This windfall of an opportunity to encounter Bristol-based Gabe Cook, aka The Ciderologist, comes with the publication of his definitive Modern British Cider (CAMRA Books, £15.99),

He’s delivering copies to Chris and his wife Alison ahead of a book launch at GRUB in Manchester, where he’ll promote the virtues of the key contemporary cider makers he chronicles in his book. Not household names like Bulmers or Kopparberg (though Weston gets a shout). Samples of ciders and perries from Nightingales, Find and Foster, Ross, Olivers and Caledonian will be testimony to the diversity of the current scene.

But first there’s the joys of a cider maker’s lunch of ham sandwiches and apple cake in the folksy Apple Barn cafe that is the public face of Dunham Press. It is totemic that alongside their own delectable range, the likes of award-winning Peterloo Perry and Dabbler Medium Sweet Sparkling Cider, sit ciders from all over the UK. There are also beer cans from another of the North West’s best artisan drinks makers, Rivington (feel my love for them via this link). The farm is also gearing up for pumpkin season with 20,000 swelling in the patch and the inner pagan in all of us will be up for their annual Wassail.

Still we’re here today specifically for the ciders, from Dunham’s organically farmed, spray-free orchards, each separate apple variety hand-picked when just ready. The names have a ripeness all of their own – Dabinett, Yarlington Mill, Hastings and curmudgeonly old Kingston Black. The pandemic has given Chris the chance to give the fermented juice more time in cask and bottle. All to their benefit. The path of minimal intervention has led Dunham into wild yeast fermentation with all its risks and rewards.

This is a world away from the commercial brand leaders. Yet Gabe, in his book, strikes a conciliatory note about ‘Big Cider’, arguing that Strongbow and Magners can be an entry level for cider drinkers, who might later seek out artisan tipples created on a different scale. He may rail against fruit ciders made with barely any real fruit (ostensibly no better than alcopops) or ciders made from concentrated apple juice that are then heavily watered down, but he is not dogmatic about cider having to be totally from apples, and 100 per cent juice.

‘Modern British Cider’ as a catch-all combines the innovative and collaborative with a strong sense of heritage, of back story. And we don’t mean the callow rite of passage of spewing up after a flagon of industrial White Lightning in your teens.

CAMRA is strongly supportive of real cider – campaigning for vital duty reforms and publishing Gabe’s book (via a Kickstarter campaign). But the author is quick to differentiate the drink from beer brewing, which is a cooking process. Proper cider making is more akin to winemaking, a once a year fermentation from harvested raw material, usually from the immediate terroir. “Cold climate wine” is a neat phrase coined by Gabe.

In contrast, a brewer can cherry pick his hops from around the world, brew 52 weeks a year and, in the contemporary world of craft, choose from a wide variety of global styles.

Which brings us to often under the radar perry, close to Gabe’s heart since he was born in the village of Dymock, nominally in Gloucestershire but tucked into a Herefordshire terroir that has a clutch of perfect pear orchards.

Gabe recalled in an interview: “The very first drink I ever made was 25 litres of Thorn perry, the pears from the last remaining perry tree on my granny’s farm at Dymock. Big brute of a tree that’s still there – the farm’s not actually in the family any more. And do you know what, it was actually probably the best drink I’ve ever made, which was obviously down to chance.

“And I love Thorn – I love my ciders to be bold and earthy and tannic and my perries to be lean and brisk and effervescent. Great drink. And, ah, it just … my eyes suddenly opened and I could see these trees, these orchards – it’s amazing. You have like a filter sort of taken off I suppose you could say and I could just see the impact of these trees on the landscape, it’s just amazing.”

This Damascene moment eventually led to a peripatetic career in the cider industry. His time in New Zealand had him working for both the legendary Peckham Cider and a winery, Waimea Estates. He may be self-deprecatory about his own cider making ability (one notorious attempt at perry ended up tasting of sausages) but his communication skills have led him into a variety of promotional roles within the industry, culminating in a 2017 decision to go full time freelance as ‘The Ciderologist’.

Rather than an artisan polemic, Modern British Cider is a careful summation that makes you want to sample all the delights he flags up in ‘The Most influential British Cider Makers Today’ chapter. In particular, to consider the contrasts between West Counties and East Counties, ie. made from tannic bittersweet cider apple varieties on the one hand and from fresher, fruitier dessert and culinary specimens on the other.

So what did I take home from the shelves of Dunham Press? A cider style I only discovered through the pages of Modern British Cider. Gabe describes ‘Keeved’ as “A style with a record of being produced in Britain historically, but most strongly associated with the classic cider-making culture of the Brittany and Normandy region of Northern France…. Keeved cider is made using classic, tannic-rich bittersweet cider apples to provide bold structure and intense aromas, flavours and mouthfeel. Varieties that bring some acidity and fruitiness are often classically used to provide softness and balance.

“The primary defining character of these ciders is undergoing a particular process prior to fermentation, known as keeving. This process involves the precipitation of pectin out of the juice, binding onto yeast and nutrients before rising to the surface. The subsequent yeast and nutrient deficient juice is then transferred to another vessel for fermentation. This tends to be slow and incomplete, normally leading to a lower alcohol content and retention of residual sweetness. These ciders are often presented in 750ml bottle with a degree of natural carbonation.”

I find from another source (a real lingustic windfall) that the French term for the keeving process is défécation. Merde!

Master of keeving in the UK is Martin Berkeley of Pilton Cider in Somerset. It was his Tamashanta I purchased for £9 and it was a complex, mellow, slightly smokey revelation. Keeving and initial fermentation takes place in large vats, but on Burns Night (hence the name) the young cider is transferred to Scotch whisky barrels to finish and mature.

WHERE TO BUY YOUR CIDER

Shepton Mallet-based Pilton was first recommended to me by Liz Paton at Drink in Hebden Bridge, West Yorkshire, my best local source of craft ciders, including the benchmark examples from the legendary Tom Oliver. A more comprehensive selection is available from Nicky Kong’s online bottle shop The Cat In The Glass, which has strong connections with Manchester Cider Club. And, of course, a day out at Dunham is de rigueur. You’ll find them at Sawpit Street, Dunham Massey, Altrincham WA14 5SJ. Buy some cider and drink it out in the orchard. What could be lovelier? You’ll also find their stalls at country fairs. Yes, the North definitely does cider.

4 October 2021/by Neil Sowerby