Cider (fwd)

Dining In, Dining Out/Style Desk; Section F A Revolutionary Idea: Trading Grape for Apple By AMANDA HESSER 11/14/2001 The New York Times Page 1, Column 4 c. 2001 New York Times Company A THOUGHTFUL host may have the best intentions, beginning the evening with a splash of Champagne, perhaps, and then pausing with a crisp Alsatian white, before settling into earthy reds for the main course. But Thanksgiving dinner is a meal that, even in the best hands, stretches the definition of hearty. By the end, it is a triumph if you are not stuffed, tired and tipsy. But there is a drink that can be more graceful than wine, and in some ways much more appropriate in balance and tradition for Thanksgiving dinner. It is hard cider, made from fermented apples or pears. And if you're tasting Martinelli's in your head, then keep in mind that it is to hard cider what purple grape juice is to a grand cru. In Colonial America hard cider was as common as beer. In 1775, 1 out of every 10 farms in New England owned and operated its own cider mill, according to Ben Watson in ''Cider, Hard and Sweet'' (Countryman Press, 1999). Fermenting the juice was a way to make it last. But as the number of family farms diminished and Prohibition took hold, the tradition vanished. It is just in the past decade that cider making has revived, with a small cluster of fruit growers around the country turning to cider with a winemaker's approach. Meanwhile, importers have begun bringing in artisanal ciders from France -- some like fragrant, delicate Champagnes, others bracing, yeasty brews. Ciders are low in alcohol, usually 3 to 7 percent, and generous in nuance. They are also fantastically cheap. Most cost less than $10 for a 750-milliliter bottle, and most wine stores have at least one in stock. You can also find fermented ciders -- as long as they're not fortified -- in better grocery stores. Cider can be sparkling or still, dry or sweet. You could start a meal, for instance, with the frothy, sweet bubbles of Henri Bellot, cidre bouche from France, and make your way to a clean, dry Farnum Hill cider from New Hampshire, with aromas of cherries and melon. All the while your palate will remain alert, your appetite unblemished, and your mind clear. French ciders tend to have floral, mineral aromas and lighter body, more like dew than nectar. Duche de Longueville makes a brut called Antoinette, which is a beautiful golden liquid with a soft, flabby bubble, and a Muscadet de Dieppe, which is much sweeter, like honey, and just 2.5 percent alcohol. It is perfectly pleasant, but not all that challenging, when you compare it with artisanally produced cidre bouche like that made by Henri Bellot in Chaource, France. Its frothy bubbles race around your palate, spreading a buoyant mix of grass, cooked apples, yeast and butter. In the same vein is Sydre Argelette, a cider made by Eric Bordelet in Normandy. Mr. Bordelet, who used to be the sommelier at Arpege, the Michelin three-star restaurant in Paris, revived an old orchard and began making artisanal ciders combining more than a dozen apple varieties. From the slender neck of the bottle flows a cider the color of amber. Fine, feisty bubbles release a robust, fresh fruit flavor. It is heartier than you might think and quite dry -- a good thing to serve with turkey. His Poire Granite, or pear cider, made from an orchard of 300-year-old trees is so delicious I would drink it with anything. It is pale, almost weak-looking, like a pinot grigio -- a disguise. It is much more elegant than the apple cider, more like Champagne with a clean sparkle and a potent aroma of pears and flowers. with good beer. The cidre bouche, brut de Normandie, from Etienne Dupont, is a dense yellow and rustic with delicious, sharp, yeasty flavors and almost none of the friendly fruit aromas you get from others. It complements things like game, steak and fried potatoes. European ciders have long been made with bittersweet and bitter-sharp cider apples, most of which are hard and inedible. They produce more austere qualities in the cider and less obvious fruit flavors. Such apples are rare in American orchards, and American cider makers are less hemmed in by tradition in general. They experiment with apples and techniques, some producing ciders that are dense and fruity, others making cider that tastes of earth and minerals. Elizabeth Ryan, the founder of the Hudson Valley Draft Cider Company, first intended to make apple brandy, but was inspired by a research trip to England, where she visited a number of cider producers. Steve Wood, an owner of Farnum Hill Ciders in Lebanon, N.H., came to cider making as a way to save his sputtering fresh apple business. In the 1980's, Mr. Wood began planting heirloom cider and eating apples on his farm. ''I pretended it was a commercial venture,'' he said. ''I think it was closer to gardening.'' ''By the late 80's we started taking it seriously, as the apple market was deteriorating,'' Mr. Wood added. ''By the early 90's we were taking it very seriously, indeed. In order to continue to grow apples on these bony hillsides with a straight face we need to have something viable to keep doing it.'' So Mr. Wood began making cider with the heirloom fruit. ''We're not really following any tradition,'' he said. ''We're trying to make cider that's reflective of the fruit we grow and the place we grow it.'' This is why American ciders are difficult to pin down. Hudson Valley Farmhouse Cider is reminiscent of English ciders, with lazy bubbles, a lot of body and assertive acidity. It smells much like a Sauternes, with the aroma of golden raisins, minerals and rubber. Its dryness would balance well with sweet potatoes, turnips and turkey, but probably stomp all over a dainty hors d'oeuvre. Farnum Hill's ciders stand alone. If you swirl a glass of the sparkling semidry, a waft of citrus blossoms and pear travels up to your nose. It is dry and crisp, with a gentle warming quality, like a Scotch. Mr. Wood blends up to a dozen rare varieties of apples like Esopus Spitzenberg, Dabinett, Yarlington Mill, Kingston Black and Medaille d'Or. His extra dry has the same kind of vibrancy, with an aroma of cherries and melon that seems to leap from the glass. It is dry and distinct with a pleasant sharpness reminiscent of bitter oranges. Both would be terrific with a meal. Mr. Wood has also begun experimenting with single-variety ciders, where there is still a mix of apples but one variety's flavor is amplified. West County Winery in Colrain, Mass., has already headed down this road. Its Redfield cider, made with the red-fleshed Redfield apple along with McIntosh, Northern Spy and others, is clean and tart. The cider is an apricot pink and smells like fresh apple skins and spice. They also make Tremlett's, which is a little fuller with gentle hints of pear and lemon. None of those flavors are what you would expect from fermented apples. But you should, considering that no one expects wine to taste like grapes. A carefully made hard cider is produced much like wine. The apples are ripened fully on the tree so that their sugar content is very high. In France, and sometimes here, the fruit is allowed to fall and sit on the ground for a few days to ''sweat,'' or dry. The apples are then crushed, pressed and fermented. Because apples and pears contain less sugar than grapes, they produce a drink with lower alcohol. It is at this point that techniques diverge. Bill Rhyne, an owner of Rhyne Cyder in Sonoma, ferments the apple varieties separately, then blends them before bottling. As the cider is bottled, he adds a little unfermented juice so that the cider goes through a second fermentation in the bottle, like Champagne. ''This brings out the apple flavor,'' he said. West County Winery also bottles right away, but it lets the crushed apples ferment for a few days before pressing, a technique that draws out many delicate flavors in the skins. Hudson Valley Farmhouse Ciders and Farnum Hill both age their fermented ciders in barrels before blending and bottling. Mr. Wood uses French and American oak and stainless steel. ''Cider is so delicate,'' said Ms. Ryan, who matures her cider in redwood, ''We don't want wood flavor, but we do want slow oxidation which builds complexity over a few months. Literally the cider is being allowed to breathe. If it goes too far, it can get too complex and too interesting.'' Cider makers are careful not to turn away new drinkers, which is why Mr. Wood makes some of his sparkling. ''A few bubbles make the whole thing a little bit jollier,'' he said. Cider, in the past, was not something you drank for nuance or fun, or because you wanted to get in the mood of the season. ''You have to think,'' Ms. Ryan said. ''What was there? There was water, there was milk and there was cider. There was a little bit of wine and beer and not much else.'' At one time, Westchester County was renowned for its ciders. ''New Jersey had hundreds and hundreds of cider mills,'' she added. It is the fine details that cider makers now tend to. Mr. Wood said: ''I drink a lot of wine and a fair amount of beer, and I don't think our cider would be what it is if I didn't. ''If I had my way, I'd be making all dead-dry still cider and people would be flocking to buy it because it would be so lovely. The still is the purest expression of the fruit.'' But all ciders are an expression of the harvest. What better time to celebrate them? Photos: GOOD WITH TURKEY -- Several varieties of heirloom apples go into Farnum Hill cider, which is made in Lebanon, N.H. (Rose McNulty)(pg. F9); FEISTY BUBBLES -- Sydre Argelette is a sparkling dry apple cider from Normandy. (Tony Cenicola/The New York Times)(pg. F1) ------------------------------ http://www.menet.umn.edu/~jellings/ * * Dr. James Lee (Jim) Ellingson, Ph.D. jellings(a)me.umn.edu * * University of Minnesota, tel: 651/645-0753 fax 651/778-4398 * * Great Lakes Brewing News, 1569 Laurel Ave., St. Paul, MN 55104 *