Cider Sunday

Leominster, Massachusetts, proclaim the signs on the interstate, is PIONEER PLASTICS CITY and BIRTHPLACE OF JOHNNY APPLESEED. How could anyone not love that juxtaposition?

more apples

Rinsed apples, ready for chopping

Johnny Appleseed, né John Chapman, didn’t just plant seeds. He started apple-tree nurseries and supervised them as business concerns. In those frontier days, apples were valued less for pies and more for hard cider and applejack. Surely Johnny A. presided this afternoon as my neighbors invited all and sundry to an old-fashioned cider pressing. This is meant to be an annual event, but 2011 and 2012 were crappy apple years so it didn’t happen.

The press, freshly scrubbed

The press, freshly scrubbed

To everyone’s huge relief, 2013 has been apples, apples, everywhere. People brought apples, they brought kids and dogs, they brought food to share and jars to take the cider home in. They also brought their muscles. Neighbor David’s cider press is the old-fashioned kind. The mangler and the press depend on human power.

Human power we had a-plenty, to pick through and chop the apples, mangle them into juicy chunks, then press the chunks into that precious russet liquid.

Sorting and chopping apples, fun for all ages

Sorting and chopping apples, fun for all ages

When I was a little kid, a Scots fellow ran a farmstand about a half mile up the road. His name was Mr. Barton, and he sold cider in gallon glass jugs. There was a deposit on the jug, and I recall pulling several empties behind me in my little red wagon, all the way to Mr. Barton’s. I got to keep the money — what was it, a nickel or a dime? Can’t remember. Mr. Barton said I was so thrifty I’d surely still have that money when I was 50.

Travvy watches from the deck

Travvy watches from the deck

I couldn’t imagine 50. I think Mr. Barton was older than my parents. Maybe he was 50.

The cider got fizzy and hard if it hung around long enough, but I don’t think I ever got tipsy on it. Pasteurized cider that doesn’t get hard has been a disappointment ever since.



About Susanna J. Sturgis

Susanna edits for a living, writes to survive, and has been preoccupied with electoral politics since 2016. She just started a blog about her vintage T-shirt collection: "The T-Shirt Chronicles." Her other blogs include "From the Seasonally Occupied Territories," about being a year-round resident of Martha's Vineyard, and "Write Through It," about writing, editing, and how to keep going.
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3 Responses to Cider Sunday

  1. Hal Davis says:

    “Cider” in Canada is alcoholic. What would be called “hard cider” in the States.


    • I think it’s the same in the UK. You can get alcoholic cider at the local brewpub, however. The non-alcoholic cider you buy at the grocery store, though, isn’t the same as apple juice. It’s got more body, it’s more opaque than apple juice — partially fermented, maybe? It’s pasteurized. You can keep it in the fridge for weeks and it doesn’t get any harder. It doesn’t even turn to vinegar. No idea what the alcohol content of what I call “hard cider” is. It doesn’t make me feel buzzy, but then again, neither does beer, unless I drink too much of it in a short time on an empty stomach. Not a pleasant feeling.


      • Hal Davis says:

        I’ve never developed a taste for beer (Liz likes a hoppy pint.) We just loaded up on Harelsons at a favored orchard, and were gifted with Red Barons. I bought some cider, brewed at a different Minnesota orchard. Fine-bodied, vigorous stuff.


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