I’ve been out at the Harry Potter experience at Levesden. I’m sure someone cast a smelianus outside Hagred’s hut. Now, I’m inspired to make a wand and magic up some cider. Back at the ranch, as it’s my birthweek, I’m presented with a big bottle of Burrow Hill cider and an appropriately titled book, ‘Stumbling On Happiness’. My spell worked!
This is a cider from Martock, Somerset and is a single variety cider, using Stoke Red apples. It comes in a smart looking bottle, corked like a champagne, so it seems fitting that we should have a cider toast. The cork pops out and some valuable cider is lost as it fizzes out, but the entertainment factor outweighs this minor tragedy.
We all take a glass of the lightly sparkling, rose gold liquid, and raise a toast. As we drink, I see a variety of expressions on the faces of my friends.
This one has a dry nose, but unlike a dog, it’s not sick. Unless you talk Street. Quite a clean, refreshing taste, rather dry, but not too much so, though my friends disagree as their gums slide back over their teeth, and they reach for their lagers. It’s almost champagne-like, and reading the bottle, this is actually a bottle fermented cider, made in a similar way to a champagne, fermented in the bottle for up to two years, rather than kept in a vat.
At 8% this well-dressed country gent hides his strength well. I don’t mind a bit that the other glasses are poured back into mine. Further Ciderkick training is required. Now, all that remains is to get home without falling asleep. if only I had a broomstick.