Thus cometh the fall. . .

Photo by David Materne

. . . And the cider, donuts, late harvests, crisp temperatures, and sweater weather.

This past Saturday was the eighth time we’ve pressed cider on the farm. A decade ago, across-the-street neighbors were moving to Colorado and were shedding possessions they couldn’t move. By chance, I was visiting as they realized they needed to leave their old press. Its history was as a wine press, but it had more than little potential for cider. Sold.

Of course, year one, blind testosterone guided efforts to make cider (directions? We don’t need no stinkin’ directions). We filled the oak hopper with varied species of apples, carefully set the pressing blocks, attached the pressing mechanism, and plied more pressure than a submarine sustains at a mile’s depth. Trickle. More pressure! Trickle . . . and a bent leverage bar. I believe we netted about a cup and a half of cider.

Extensive research (well, about a five minute Google pursuit) revealed a number of steps necessary to successfully make cider. The annoyance of discovering that making cider wasn't an A Priori gift, was mitigated by the excitement of getting to purchase additional tools to achieve results!

To make cider in our non-commercial setting, apples are rinsed, sorted to remove the clearly infested or otherwise undesirable, and then fed through a grinder where the pulp is caught in mesh bags. These bags are loaded into the press. Pressure is applied and the pulp cedes its nectar to waiting vessels. The leeching is poured through another mesh filter into a holding bottle – and then through one more filter to portable containers. Spent pulp is dumped from the mesh bags into a hopper to be added to compost piles or shared with wildlife.

Photo by Pam Rosati Baczkowski

 

About thirty folks gathered through the day and most took a turn at the hand crank on the grinder. Just as I can imagine a century’s worth of pressings, people brought apples, dishes to share, libations, and good will. For many, it was their first time making cider and the old salts (well, those who had come at least once before!) were more than happy to share expertise. Adding to the day’s crafts, we produced apple sauce and ground horseradish harvested from my little garden.

More than once, those in attendance joked that it would be much easier to run to the store and buy a gallon of cider, a portion of applesauce, or a bottle of horseradish. Of course it would. But would anonymously produced cider taste as sweet? Commercially bottled horseradish have as fresh of a bite? Or Mott’s compete with a father and daughter’s teamwork mashing apples into apple sauce?

Photo by David Materne

There is no question that, in our country, we are blessed with the efforts of entrepreneurs who have figured out ways to bring goods to market much more easily than we can produce on our own small scale and certainly at a value that competes with or beats our own production efforts. However, when I got to see each participant’s delight in our collectively produced products, I knew that value goes beyond supermarket aisles and mail order.

I am not arguing against the progress of technology, the advance of broad-reaching manufacturing and distribution, nor the collective benefit possible from an individual's profit – I do not seek to return to the nineteenth century. I do, however, believe that the experience of cooperative achievement (yes, I know we are talking cider, not world peace) positively affects one’s world view. There is nothing wrong with seeing the source of our food and nurturing a sense of community whilst producing.

Thanks to all who could attend – we’ll do it again next year.