Sunday, November 2, 2008

1000(ish) Words Because I Have No Pictures

I have a 3 gallon glass carbouy sitting in the garage that is just over half full of fresh apple cider. The other day I went over to Tom and Kathy's house. Kathy and I filled a bunch of bushels full of apples from their trees. There is a fellow in Toledo called Kendall and he recently acquired an antique cider press and was looking to put it to good use. So we washed up all the apples and got the machine rolling. First all the apples went into the crusher. The crushed pieces fell through to the tray on the bottom of the machine where they were caught in what looked like a bottomless bucket. Once the bucket was full we pushed it forward along the tray so it was positioned underneath the press. Fitting a round wooden disk into the bottomless bucket we pressed all the juice out of the apple bits. I figure that we had about 5 gallons by the time we were done. The whole business smelled good, tasted good and was so freaking quaint that I felt I was a subject in a Norman Rockwell painting. But you will just have to trust me on that because I didn't have my camera on my person and missed photo-documenting the experience.

1 comment:

Nathan said...

Ummm....fresh-pressed cider. There are few pleasures in the world that can equal fresh cider other than, perhaps, hard cider. Now, you know, you have to be careful because that fresh cider can go hard in a relatively short time, it gets all fizzy, and bubbles rise in the glass, and can deliver a kick.

Did you know that William Henry Harrison built his 1840 presidential campaign (Tippecanoe and Tyler Too) around the folksy nature of hard cider? Claiming that his opponent was out of touch with “average” Americans, Harrison accused incumbent Martin Van Buren of being a Francophile--evidenced by his serving of champaign at State dinners--and Harrison pressed the electorate serving hard cider in front of log cabins constructed for his whistle-stop rallies.

Even Robert Frost honors the simple glass of cider:

In a Glass of Cider
It seemed I was a mite of sediment
That waited for the bottom to ferment
So I could catch a bubble in ascent.
I rode up on one till the bubble burst,
And when that left me to sink back reversed
I was no worse off than I was at first.
I'd catch another bubble if I waited.
The thing was to get now and then elated.

Robert Frost, In the Clearing, 1962

If you enjoy a cold glass of cider, you are in good company.