Crack Cider at The Christmas Steps, Bristol

I’m on an historic plaques walk. I’m using the old-skool ‘an historic’, rather than ‘a historic’. Because it’s historic.

After seeing various places where massive amounts of people died in the past (that’s what history is), I’m on the steep incline of Christmas Steps.

To ease the pain in my legs, after approximately 18 steps, I turn in to the very welcome The Christmas Steps pub. It’s still pretty quiet on a Saturday evening, and, though it doesn’t look like an historic pub, it has historic features, nonetheless.

The challenge is on … Bristol always entertains with a selection of proper ciders, even in the big standard pubs. I’m going to opt for the Crack Cider! Sounds dangerous. Must make sure I don’t turn up wankered at the party…

Crack is a carbonated cider. Medium bittersweet. To be honest (TBH, as the JenZees say), it’s not much different to a Strongbow.

I’ve tried for searching on the Crack Cider, but all I can find is links to ‘Crack and cider’, which isn’t really my bag this early in the day.

The top search result brings up the meta description: “The world’s first shop for the homeless, CRACK + CIDER allows buyers to purchase the items most needed by rough sleepers.” Perhaps for the best, cider and crack are not on that list.

The Chrimbo Steps also make home-made ice lollies! Their website claims it’s an ‘istoric pub – maybe. It’s a nice atmosphere and interior. Just the place to chill. Wiv a pint of Crack.

Time to get on a scooter and pop up to the party. Can they breathalise a scooter boy?

Verdict
2/5

Looking out the window of the ‘isotoric Christmas Steps

Sxollie Granny Smith

My South African accent is awful, I sound like an Aussie with learning difficulties. But Sxollie means something like ‘mad bastard’ in Afrikaans, and Sxollie cider (or ‘xider’) have created a Granny Smith variety.

I’ve been given this one as a gift from a technophobic colleague for booking a train ticket. We reckon it will be a crispy fresh one if it’s a Granny Smith, though I suspect it might be a sweet one – eating apples tend to make very sweet cider, whereas cider apples tend to make awful munching, but lovely cider.

It’s a 4.5% cider, which claims to contain 5 orchard-picked Granny Smith apples per bottle. It is a sweet one, too! It’s almost flat and clear, with a very tart flavour. It makes you wince.

Checking out the Sxollie website, they’re an award-winning craft cider maker, and certified as a B Corp. That means they’re very nice to the environment.

So what makes it a South African cider? In line with the recent Rugby World Cup (2023), Sxollie puts in an adequate performance and then sneaks through with one point more than the competition at the last minute.

Then again, I had a Saffer come into my work place to slag off the Great British 3-pin plug (safest in the world) earlier, so fuck him.

Verdict
4/5

The Carpenter’s Arms, with Crafty Cider

So far, in the Cidersense blog, I’ve only written about ciders, but I’m branching out into venues. I’ve been listening to the BBC ‘Uncanny’ podcast, about ghosts and stuff. It’s canny good, and I was inspired to visit a haunted pub. Today, I’m on the loose in Spitalfields, east London. The Ten Bells would have been ideal – it’s riddled with ghost stories, even someone I know heard kids running around upstairs when he used to sleep on the floor with a Rottweiler, when it was a strip bar – but it’s standing room only on this Saturday afternoon. In fact, most pubs around the market are jam-packed with people wearing tiny hats and massive trousers, but I know one that might be quieter, and has some dark history, so I turn off Brick Lane and down Cheshire St …

The Carpenter’s Arms was bought by top 60s gangsters, The Krays, to give to their mother, Violet. And it’s where Reggie Kray drank before they went off to a party in Stoke Newington and killed Jack ‘The Hat’ McVitie. It still retains an independent, traditional pub feel, and hasn’t been turned into one of those baby-friendly gastro pubs, where you have to have a screaming child just to get in, and you feel vulgar if you only ask for a pint, without the sweet potato, pumpkin seed and tarragon wellington. And a glass of mineral water.

They do do food though – snacks, and several burger options, by chef Enrico Casti. The cider selection is minimal (though there’s a decent beer selection), but they do have a Crafty Apple, so, my choice is made.

The front section is full of hipster kids and posh people. The back section has a proper East End couple, – complete with flat cap, and faded star tattoo behind one ear – and a bloke on his own. I feel I fit in there much more, and take a spot in the comfy bench to people watch.

Old pictures and beer memorabilia

I imagine Ronnie and Reggie sitting by the roaring fire, sharpening their knives. Apparently, they liked the pub because it was narrow, with only one entrance, so they could see who was coming in. Before they killed them. The place would have been filLed with fag smoke then, now, the gentle sound of world jazz lilts through the chatter.

“Oo, but what’s the décor like?” I hear you say. The pub has dark wooden panelling and buttoned leather benches, and the traditional cast iron-based pub tables. And lots of old East End photos.

Thankfully, today, I’m not off to exterminate any rivals – as it’s a Saturday. It’s just gone 4pm and the joint is hotting up now, as hipsters finish shopping for tiny hats, massive trousers, the most unusual tote bag, and shorts for dogs.

Crafty is a medium, slightly hazy 4.5% cider, but you can taste the real apples in it.

More old photos of East End shenanigans

I’m tempted to stay for a porter, but it’s not as peaceful as it was. However, I bundle my way through a massive pile of geezers,crowded round the bar – some wearing German scarves – and I return to the Freaks & Geeks corner with a pint of porter, to contemplate the possibility of me wearing a flat cap and suit next time I visit, for added authority.

Back in the day, when Shoreditch was cool, this place was always packed, but I’ve read it suffered poor custom, and might have been turned into trendy flats if it wasn’t for the new owner. I hope you’ll give a thought for public house history and check it out. Especially mid-afternoon, when the staff aren’t so busy.

Chatting to my East End couple neighbour, her granny used to live round here and knows all about it. I’m pleased they don’t give me the old “Salt of the Earf, they was, never done noffing to no-one what didn’t deserve it!”.

But now … I’m off to a party.
And I’ve got a Swiss Army knife …

The Carpenter’s Arms, back in the day. That drain needs unblocking.

Le Père Jules

Oh, a French perry!

My colleague arranged a nice bottle of cider for services rendered. Well,he did delegate the purchasing of it, but the purchaser picked a lovely Normandy perry, Le Père Jules, from Léon Desfrièches et Fils

It comes in a lovely champagne-style bottle, with a cork. I have to keep the cork pressed down to prevent an eruption all over my desk.

It‘s a 4%er, a very light colour, with a taste to match. There‘s a very delicate taste of pears, mixed with a dry smell – like some old paper or something. Not like the pear drops of ‘pear cider‘, nor the sherry smell of some more powerful British perrys. Or is it Perries? In fact, I think it‘s the taste of a second hand shop that deals in vintage memorabilia. Or a fine leather glove. Oui!

The French do cider well, and this perry isn’t a let-down. Very sessionable, as they say. Unfortunately, I have to be up at 4am, so a proper session is out of the question.

Verdict 5/5

Presshead Firestarter

I’m still getting through my Bristol Cider Box. It’s not a difficult job, though. I’m surprised by my own restraint in only having one a week. I’m the Charlie Buckett of cider. Next out is Firestarter by Presshead. The label shows a freaky tree, covered in psychedelic apple press eyes.

Firestarter is lightly sparkling, not much of a smell, but, ooh, it’s a bit spicy. I’m not getting the advertisd ‘aniseed’, but maybe the vanilla. A nice cider with some bitterness. I don’t yet feel like starting any fires, but this is the preload before a toddler’s birthday party, so anything could happen.

Still no aniseed. Maybe coriander, but I’m not a fan of coriander. Now, I notice the smell is dry and dusty. Dry enough to catch alight from a carelessly discarded cigarette. The taste has become somewhere between a Chardonnay and a dessert wine.

So, who’s this Presshead, then? Well, their two advertised websites don’t work, but you can find them on Facebook.  Well, time to head off to this party. Where’s my matches?

Verdict: 4/5

Perry’s Somerset Cider Redstreak

It’s Perry’s, but it’s not perry. It’s a Redstreak, but it’s not red, nor streaky.
This is Perry’s Redstreak Cider. This 6.1%, Somerset, single variety cider has won the Great Taste Award 2016.

It’s good, with a nice balance and an aromatic something about it. I’m trying to work out what that something is. I think it’s barbecue coal. Maybe some chocolate in there too.

No, I’ve got it – it’s an old waxed jacket. Like licking a Barbour Beaufort, but without the dead pheasant hanging out the pocket. That sounds unpleasant, but don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. I’m inspired by a sudden pastoral vision from the days of yore, when life was simpler and everyone knew their place . . .

I’m not the pheasant plucker
I lick jackets with my tongue
I’m sitting drinking cider
Till I can’t control my bum

It does have a bit of the countryside about it though – a stag beetle on the label. Collector’s Card No 02, but what are the others to collect?

Redstreak is the type of apple, by the way.

Verdict: 4.5/5

Half Moon

It’s a full moon tonight – that means people will be going mental.
I tried taking photos of it, but they didn’t come out well, and then I got cold and hungry. So hungry.
Half Moon should take the edge off. It’s a 4.7% Somerset Cider from the Somerset Cider Company, surprisingly. At the time of typing, their website seems to either be down or missing a security certificate – the telling effects of too much cider.

Half Moon smells like oaky sweet toffee apple. It’s medium sweet, nicely made, but there’s not much more that stands out – no ‘point of difference’, as they say in the business. Or maybe it’s just the full moon sending me into the zone.

I notice more hairs have grown on the back of my hand. Strange.
Half Moon claims to use Redstreak apples for freshness, Dabinett for body and Porter’s Perfection for whatever else. There’s no denying, it’s a good cider, but tonight I have the taste for something like a nice juicy squirrel. Or a plump, lycra-bound jogger’s bum – yes, they won’t hear me coming with their bluetooth headphones on.

My fingernails seem to be growing before my eyes.
And what’s that? My Face!!
Dear Lord! I am!
I’m turning into . .
. . . into a weremk ns;ovlmig’uiio . * .. . ;’]

Harry’s Cider: Original

Another from the Bristol Cider Shop box of delights.
Harry’s is a 6% cider from a family-owned farm in Somerset.
For only a tenner, you can get into a Harry’s Cider Farm tour, complete with tasting and 10% off the farm shop products. It doesn’t get you the three hour tractor ride back to the train station though.

So, oo’s ‘arry?
Harry’s Original has a mild, sweet scent, but the taste is more dry and oaky. Lightly sparkling and a golden colour – does anyone care about the colour? And a nice, tangy aftertaste. Suitable for coeliacs too, so no gluten. I’ll have to dip my own bread in it, then.

Reading the label further, Harry’s Original is recommended as a food pairing with:
– pork chops; got none
– summer salad; you what?
– strong, vintage cheddars; now you’re talking! In a flamboyant and vulgar show of wealth in Morrisons, I recently picked up some Davidstow. You know, the posh one in the black wrapper, with the crunchy bits in cos it’s so old?

For me, Harry’s has just the right balance of cidral elements (don’t try Googling cidral). Harry’s like one of those people who you can’t really tell anything to, because they can do everything better than you can.

So, that’s who Harry is.
Pantomathic git (yeah, Google that one).

Verdict
5/5

Thatchers Blood Orange Cider

My very kind colleague has given me a bottle of Thatchers in return for taking a few photos of her ceramics (@cassi.thorne if you’re into Instagram). I find a convenient juncture to crack it open (in the office, at the end of the day).

Thatcher’s Blood Orange is a deep orange colour, lightly sparkling. Being a ‘fruit cider’ it’s 4%. It’s actually very nice. I was expecting an overly-sweet Swedish-style cider, but there’s still a little bitterness in there. It reminds me of something, a bit like an Aperol spritz, maybe. Well, it’s the same colour.

It seems Thatcher’s is still a family-owned cider maker. Even though you find Thatchers in many pubs, and advertised on the telly! That’s commendable. I’ve never found a pint of the Blood Orange in pubs though. It’s nice for a pint, but maybe a bit sickly for a night on the pop.

I’ve paired this cider with a bag of Holland and Barrett Super Berry Mix. I’m trying to have a healthy run up to Christmas and the natural fruit juices in the Thatchers, should give me a boost of anti-oxidants to stave off all that snotting and shitting oneself that seems to take hold around this time of year.

Well, I’ll add this one to my Chrsitmas list and hope Santa doesn’t drink it on the way!

Verdict:
4/5
Ho, ho ho!

Turners Apple Pie Cider

I’m at my sister’s place in Higham’s Park, north/east London. I’ve been sent to fetch wine, as the residents are getting a thirst on. It’s a rare opportunity to sample the local ‘pub’ The Stag and Lantern.

This award-winning (The CAMRA East London and City Pub Of The Year 2023, no less!) used to be something else, like a Chinese takeaway, so it’s not an historic place. Not like the two other pubs in the vicinity – The County Arms, which is a load of fat blokes in leggings, watching football; nor the Royal Oak, an ex-English Defence League club, with rumours of gangsterism-turned delightful gastropub.

Anyway, I divulge. I buy a cider I haven’t seen before – it’s an apple pie cider, by Turners of Kent. It sits in the fridge for a couple of weeks, until it’s time to put up the Christmas tree. This is an opportune moment to give the old apple pie a test.

It’s a slightly pink colour, lightly sparking, and oh, it does taste Christmassy! Something cinnamonic about it. But it’s not just cinnamon, it’s the toasted, sugared crust and the sweet apples. If it wasn’t cold and in a glass, I’d believe I was eatin’ momma’s apple pie. Or – as I never had, nor met, a momma – me mam’s apple crumble.

It’s a 4% cider, so not too heavy – maybe the addition of cinnamon turns it into a fruit cider (max 4%). There’s no other indication on the bottle of what’s in it (apart from sulphites)

It is a rather sweet one – Kent ciders will most likely be dessert apples. Lovely for a drink around the piano, or whatever Instagram families do at Christmas, but not a ‘sessionable’ one.

One bauble has already fallen off the tree. The tree looks likely to fall over in the night, and the wooden angel candle-powered thing nearly caught fire. I remember when I were a lad – Christmas used to be one of the best times of the year; unwrapping the delicate heirloom decorations from the vintage, slightly damp, toilet roll they were wrapped in several years ago, and gingerly placing them on the plastic tree, bought from Woolies in about 1975 … but this year, we have to perform the task under constant fire from Nerf heavy-weapons. At least there’s a glass of port at the end of it.

Verdict:

4/5

Ho, ho, ho!

Dorset Sunshine Cider: Festival Sunshine

I’ve travelled down to Dorset to see an old friend, for a weekend of coastal dog-walking and cider drinking.

John – let’s call him John, as that’s his first name – explains that he checked out local cideries in anticipation of my visit, however, the local Christchurch area did not feature a great deal of cider orchards. If you Google it, the only spot is a local cider seller – Dorset Sunshine Cider. Seeing the opening times are only Monday–Friday, 10:30am–4pm (or something like that), my weekend trip means a visit to the DSC is off the cards. John kindly checked the site out in his retirement leisure, and came back with a box of Festival Sunshine.

Alistair/Alistair (or maybe with another ‘a’, or maybe it’s trendy and has a ‘y’ and two ‘r’s) at DSC claims that Festival is his favourite cider (in the video below), it being ‘the Swiss army knife of ciders’. I’m presented with a 5 litre box (that’s 8.8 pints in real money). It doesn’t look that handy to carry around in a pocket, but perhaps it has many functions. And perhaps it can kill if used in the wrong way.

Video courtesy of John & Rocky – cheers!

DSC claim the cider is made using Dorset apples, and it’s best drunk in Dorset. Well, sorry mate, I’m taking it on a train back to London.

The taste is certainly filled with sunshine. It’s warm and sweet, even before the first sip. It’s a very rich taste, there’s even a bit of sunburn on the back of the throat. Just like nectar. – 6.5% nectar.

After a pint of this, the bottom half of my body can’t be arsed to do anything. It’s not gone numb, just lazy. Maybe it’s about the gut being a second brain – Festival has sent it to sleep.

A nine-pinter is a big responsibility. Without an upcoming party, I’m struggling to find moments to enjoy this. However, I manage to enjoy the Sunshine in a variety of places: Friday evening at work; washing the dishes; on the toilet; in bed, watching Venom … talk about it being an all-rounder – it’s just like a Braun Independent, any time, anywhere.

Despite my rather mundane list of cider drinking opportunities, I wonder where the most unusual place that I could drink cider would be. This opens up a whole new opportunity of extreme cider drinking blog posts … hmm.

Verdict 5/5

Ferme du Ponctey

My colleague brought this one in for me – Ferme du Ponctey – a special treat from some rare deli in deepest South London. I think it’s French for ‘close to a ponce’ … well, a Google Translate tells me it means Ponctey Farm. I always was rubbish at French, I blame the teacher.

Anyway, it’s a 750ml bottle with a cork. Hmm, just over a pint. Easy!

At 5%, it’s quite strong for a French cidre. I look up the Ferme du Ponctey website, and find the Jaouen family not only have the longest string of uninterrupted vowels in their surname ever, but have been using the Normandy orchard for 25 years.

Popping off the cork, it nearly takes my eye out … maybe I should have let it cool for longer … but I have two eyes, so not to worry. The colour is deep golden, almost yellow as it froths to the top of the glass and I have to suck a bit of the head off to stop it overflowing. The taste is the very sweet side of bittersweet – typical of a keeved French cider. It’s pretty much just like French apple juice, but naturally sparkling.

Sadly, I have no bottle stops to hand, so I’m forced to finish the bottle and contemplate the remainder of the evening. Oh well, it’s a job, I suppose. The sun is out. Perhaps I will become près d’un ponce and mince down the street with a Gauloise, ce soir. Or I just go home and watch Top of the Pops 2.

Verdict 5/5