The Appeal of Mrs Toogood

Here’s a fascinating fact. Apples have so much natural yeast on their skins that if you leave them alone, they’ll just alcoholise themselves. That’s definitely true and proves that cider (hard cider to my American friends) is the natural way that God intended apples to be consumed. Probably. I’m fairly certain I read that somewhere or heard someone say it on YouTube. Either way, I’m going with it.

In three or four years’ time, assuming my step-brother’s concerns about the end of civilisation prove unfounded, I hope to have my own ready supply of cider ingredients but until then I’ll just have to experiment with what the local supermarket has to offer. I was planning on calling my brew a Ticklepenny Tipple but apparently that sounds too much like a real ale. Ticklepenny Tap? Press, maybe?

A quick scan of the internet suggests that cider making isn’t as tough as I might have thought. Essentially, you just crush the juice out of some apples, bang the liquid in a barrel with some champagne yeast and wait. Surely, I can’t mess that up?

As with most of my scientific endeavours, I start my research on YouTube. There are loads of self-proclaimed experts doling out advice in hazily filmed home videos. Most of them wear corduroy and drink a lot of their own product during filming. I watch a couple and it all seems fairly straightforward. Then I happen upon one by Jack Hargreaves, famous pipe-smoking beardbonce and host of the legendary ‘70s show Out of Town, in which he gently protested about the increasing urbanisation of society whilst riding a horse and cart and pretending he wasn’t a high-flying television executive. Top man, though. I won’t have a word said against him. Well, maybe one. But that’s your lot.

Once I’d learned all there is to know about the ancient and celebrated art of cider making, I found myself a cider press. I went with a Lacewing 12L model, which I bought from a company I don’t wish to name because my local brewing shop is currently a victim of lockdown retail arrangements. It required assembly on arrival but the instructions weren’t too complicated. Screwing in the staves was the only bit that I was unprepared for but I awarded myself several intermissary (not a real word) brews and eventually my press stood resplendent before me, ready to turn fruit into vast quantities of nectar.

I promise I’m not on commission, but I do want to say that the Lacewing is a lovely looking bit of kit and not unreasonably priced. I only hope the eventual Ticklepenny Tap/Press/Scrump does the manufacturers proud. It won’t, obviously, but there’s still hope at this early stage.

Next up: apples. Jack Hargreaves recommends 40% cookers and 60% eaters so that’s what I try first. I can adjust the recipe as I learn/drink more. I haven’t managed to buy any fermenting jugs or taps so the first batch will just be virgin apple juice. I could‘ve waited for the homebrew shop to reopen but I was keen to get cracking so I cut up 800g of Bramleys and 1.2kg of Braeburns and dropped them into the pulping net. I wasn’t sure how small the bits needed to be so I cut them into chunks a couple of centimetres square.

Problem number one. It turns out a 12L cider press is designed for more than 2kg of apples. The handle hit the side of the barrel before it got anywhere near exerting any pressure on the apples below. No juice was forthcoming. It was a couple of days before I could get back to the supermarket by which time Tesco had replaced all the plastic bags in their fruit and veg aisles with paper bags, specifically ones designed for mushrooms. Now, I’m as Greta Thunberg as the next bloke but the least I demand of a bag is that it should be able to hold two bits of fruit without instantly falling apart at the seams. What happened to the paper bags of yesteryear, when the local greengrocer could slam in 5lb of spuds, spin it round by the corners to close it and then unceremoniously dump it on the counter without it tearing? Those things were the indestructible hobnobs of the paper bag world. These things are just Rich Tea.

Despite my bagging frustrations, I eventually managed to lug home another 10 kilos of individually bagged Bramleys and some random eating apple that was on special offer. I know I was supposed to be trying a specific recipe but at this point I just wanted to have a drink.

Now there were way more apples on the table, my slicing enthusiasm took a nosedive. Instead of dicing them, I just hacked each piece of fruit into nine worryingly large chunks and dumped them in the barrel. It was soon satisfyingly full. I checked the instructions again for what to do next and noticed the illustration on the back page where it demonstrates clearly how to use the press for small quantities. Oh well. You live and learn.

I started winding the handle down the central screw and quickly realised the limitations of my library and videogame based exercise regime. I managed to squeeze out almost a whole drop of juice before my heart started beating like a double-pedalled death metal kick drum. Fortunately, what I lack in physicality, I make up for in cunning. Bricks. There’s a stack of them outside in the garden which I can pile on top of the fruit. I’ve always preferred drinks laced with brick dust anyway. It’s like rural Goldschlager.

Much better. The handle turned and soon the apple juice was flowing. Well, dripping. I still had to take regular sweat breaks but I eventually managed to squeeze almost half a pint of juice from 10 kilos of apples. That’s about thirty quid a pint. It’s tasty but not a sustainable business plan. Actually, tasty is an understatement. It’s delicious. I could drink litres of the stuff if only I had a six figure salary and arms like tree trunks. I’ve got a plan though. My dad has been asking me what I want for Christmas and my aching limbs have just made the decision for me: an apple pulper. Even my pitifully underdeveloped arms should be able to exert enough pressure on puree to get a decent batch of what I have by this time almost definitely decided to call Ticklepenny Scrump. Feel free to offer your thoughts and label designs.