An entry · Work · Life

Cider Maker

One person tastes a hundred bitter apples and decides which of them become a bottle.

A cider maker reaching up to pick apples by hand in a sunlit orchard, a basket held at his hip.
Photograph · documented by hand

Why the human is the point

Cider begins in the orchard, and most of the decisions are made there years before anyone opens a bottle. Which varieties to keep, how long to leave the fruit on the ground to sweeten, when the tannin has come right. Real cider apples are close to inedible on their own, sharp and bitter and full of character, and the maker's job is to blend them into something that tastes like a specific place. Then the press, the slow wild ferment through a cold winter, the racking, the waiting. A machine can juice fruit all day long. It cannot decide that this year's crop needs a little more of the sharp variety, or that one barrel should sit another three months and the rest should not. Ireland and England are both full of people doing this properly, on small farms, in orchards their grandparents planted.

Kept nearby

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