Cider, perry and me

After my recent foray into the world of fermented fruit juice, I want to explain more about my state of wariness when it comes to drinks such as cider and perry. It began when I was in my very early teens and harks back to the very first time, I got drunk.

I was 14 years old at the time and had consumed quite a few glasses of Woodpecker cider. This was whilst at a party, in the village of Wye, at the house of a girl who was a few years older than me. Don’t ask me why, but for reasons unknown, I foolishly thought that cider was either a soft drink, or one that was only slightly alcoholic – like shandy.

This confusion may have been due to the availability of a beverage called “Cydrax” - a non-alcoholic, sparkling, apple-based drink, marketed as “Cider’s little sister.” Cydrax was, produced by a company called Whiteways, who were based in Devon, and following a series of takeovers and mergers, eventually ended up as part of the Allied Lyons conglomerate.

Cydrax and its pear based equivalent "Peardrax," were hugely popular during the 1960’s and early 70’s, but by the following decade, both brands were in terminal decline. They were finally discontinued in 1988 but, as my researches show, both drinks continue to be made under licence in Trinidad of all places, where they are extremely popular.

 CC BY (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0)

My parents may have got the odd bottle of Cydrax in for Christmas, when I was growing up, but as neither mum nor dad were drinkers, my exposure to “Cider’s little sister” was probably minimal. This naivety at least partially explains why I unintentionally found myself inebriated at Jackie's party.

 

To be fair, I quite enjoyed the experience, especially as I was centre of attention for a while. It certainly didn’t put me off drinking.  To be honest, I wasn’t really that drunk, and it was more like a little tipsy, but my mood was definitely enhanced by a feeling of euphoria. My father wasn’t quite so pleased though, when he arrived to drive me home, and my mother was even less impressed. 

 

Neither of my father’s parents were drinkers, and whilst my mother’s parents were regular pub-goers, I wouldn’t really describe them as heavy drinkers. They drank enough though to put my mother off the demon drink; hence her displeasure at my slightly inebriated state.

 

As for the party, I don’t remember if Jackie’s parents were at home, although I suspect they probably were. I do recall some daft, "show-off kid" who’d brought an air-pistol along to the event and was fooling around with the weapon. Fortunately, no-one lost an eye, but this individual certainly discharged the pistol several times. My father would probably have been more concerned about me getting tipsy, than someone clowning around with a gun, but they were different times and different attitudes prevailed to those of today.

 

Moving on, I quite quickly graduated onto Strongbow cider, before developing a taste for beer, and when this happened, my taste for cider never really returned. This was possibly because, even 40 years ago, industrial ciders had elbowed the traditional stuff off the bar. It is true to say that cider, far more so than beer, became almost unrecognised from the traditional farmhouse drink it once was, and heavily promoted brands, such as those from Strongbow, Blackthorn, Taunton and Gaymers dominated the market.

 

Traditional beer, on the other hand, fared much better, thanks to a series of successful and well organised campaigns from CAMRA. Eventually, with traditional cider (and perry) in danger of disappearing, CAMRA took these threatened drinks under its wing, with the formation of their cider and perry campaign, APPLE.

 

Many CAMRA members, including me, weren’t overly happy with this move. Our argument was we had joined the Campaign of Real ALE and that the clue is on the name. CAMRA argued that cider was never going to attract the same level of support as beer, and with no other organisation prepared to champion cider’s cause, there was no other option available.

 

https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=36389990

By directing some of its resources to supporting this traditional pub drink, proper cider, and by extension, perry, stood every chance of surviving, rather than withering on the vine – or should that be apple tree? Cider bars became a regular and popular feature at most CAMRA approved beer festivals, offering a wide range of traditional ciders and perries. They were staffed by keen volunteers, knowledgeable in all things related to apples and pears.

 

Inevitably gave these a wide berth, not because I disapproved of them, but more so because of the high strength of most of the ciders and perries on offer. My preoccupation at beer festivals during those early days, was to “tick” as many new beers as possible, and with cider, in many cases, being twice the strength of beer, the odd glass of fermented apple juice would seriously impinge on the number of beers I could cross off my list.

 

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As the new century approached, cider took off in a big way, and became an extremely popular drink, especially with young people. I am talking here about mainstream, big-market ciders - light years removed from their country origins. Perry – the pear equivalent of cider, became extremely rare in traditional form, and to add insult to injury, perry ended up being marketed as “Pear Cider,” presumably because modern consumers had no idea as to what perry was.

The charge into this brave new world was led by Irish cider producer, Magners. There had been a connection between Magners and renowned English cider maker HP Bulmer of Herford, for some time, but by the time the major sales push into overseas markets occurred, the company was owned by Showering’s (see below).

 

Magner’s success was due to clever marketing and the advertising made great play of it being “poured over ice.” This was in line with the craze for chilled and even “extra cold” beers, but the advertising worked and Magners seemed to be available everywhere. The brand certainly became a best seller at the off-licence I ran, with Mrs PBT’s, back in the early 2000’s. 

 

Far wore than Magners, which was at least a decent enough drink, were the plethora of exotic, fruit- flavoured ciders. Swedish producer, Koppaberg brew a wide range of fruit ciders, as do Bulmer’s, but without wishing to sound like a snob, these drinks really aren’t cider as we know it. Taking this fad to the extreme is “toffee apple cider,” a bottle of which I found Young Bailey necking back yesterday, along with his evening meal.

 

I started this article as a follow-on from my enjoyment a couple of weeks ago, of a bottle of traditional perry, so with this in mind it’s worth taking a quick look at the company which promoted and popularised perry, on a commercial scale, back in the 1960’s.

 

Showering’s began life as a small brewery based at Shepton Mallet in Somerset. They were the company behind that 1960’s favourite Babycham – the way to a girl’s heart, or perhaps more, if the advertising was to be believed! Babycham was a sparkling perry, sold in small bottles and specifically aimed at the female market. It weighs with an alcohol strength of 6%, so it is not exactly a “soft drink.”

 

Showering’s ran into a spot of bother over their marketing of Babycham, and in 1978 they were taken to court by several of the major French champagne houses, for advertising Babycham as “Genuine champagne perry.” They were forced to drop the word “Champagne” from their marketing but, as a cynic would say, there is no such thing as bad publicity and Babycham remains a popular drink to this day.

 

There’s a bit of a sting in the tail as we wrap up this story, but it’s one that offers an explanation as to where the term “pear cider” came from. In 1992, four brothers who represented the next generation of the Showering’s family, set up a company called Brothers Cider.

 

The story goes that when the company were offered a bar for their perry at the Glastonbury Festival, many festival attendees didn’t know what perry was. As a result, the “brothers” behind the brand, coined the term “Pear cider” and this is why today’s “yoof” use this term when referring to perry.

Like its former parent company, Brother’s Cider is based in Shepton Mallet and occupies the site of the former Anglo-Bavarian Brewery in the town. They have an annual turnover in excess of £50 million.

 

After 40 plus years of eschewing traditional cider and perry, I’ve got a lot of catching up to do, so that’s enough for now, but when circumstances are favourable, and I fancy something a little different from my usual beer, I shall be giving these traditional drinks more of a try.

Harvey's rarely disappoints - and neither does the White Hart!

I enjoyed a pint of Harvey’s today, my first since lock-down, and boy was it good. I’d been hankering after some Sussex Best since the pubs re-opened, but all the pubs I’ve been in until today weren’t stocking the beer.

Harvey’s Sussex Best is not only one of my favourite beers; I happen to think it is one of the finest traditional ales brewed in these islands. With a base of rich, biscuity malt, complemented by just the right amount of bitterness from a blend of locally grown hop varieties, Harvey’s Best is rightly described as the embodiment of Sussex.

Despite the beer being widely distributed throughout East Sussex and West Kent, I’ve had quite a job recently in tracking it down; until today. Fancying a drive out, I’d booked a table for three, for Saturday lunchtime, at the White Hart, Newenden. The idea had been for us to do a spot of shopping at Jempson’s independent superstore at Peasmarsh, before stopping off at the pub on the way home.

Little did I realise quite how hot the weekend was going to turn out. I also ran into a spot of car trouble. The latter was easily solved by son Matthew adding me as a named driver to his insurance policy, which now allows me to drive his car. I was quite taken aback by this kind-hearted gesture, but it does now give Mrs PBT’s and I access to a second set of wheels.

The other drawback to my plan was the hot weather itself because, as my dear lady wife pointed out, there was no way in which we’d be able to leave any food shopping in the back of the car, whilst we were at the pub. We decided that the shopping wasn’t essential, and we would just go for lunch instead, until Mrs PBT’s, ever the contrary one, decided it would be just too hot for her.

She didn’t want to sit in the pub garden, but equally didn’t want to be inside – something about a virus that, providing the right precautions are taken, you’ve got very little chance of falling victim to. You and Matthew go, she said, I’m quite happy sitting at home in the cool.

So that’s what we did, but still took Matthew’s car. The air-conditioning needs re-gassing on mine and I’ve also had issues with the electric windows and indicators.  An intermittent electrical fault, which will be looked at by an auto specialist on Wednesday. The air-con will also be re-charged. 

We set off just after 12.30pm, with temperatures already in the thirties. I’ve only driven a handful of automatic cars, but I soon got the hang of Matthew’s one. In view of the record-braking temperatures, and the expected mass exodus to the coast, I took us along a more rural route, which took us through Benchley, Horsmonden and the edge of Goudhurst, before joining with the main Rye-Hastings road at Hawkhurst. 

We arrived three-quarters of an hour early at Newenden, so went and had a look at nearby Northiam station, on the opposite bank of the River Rother. Northiam is the penultimate stop on the Kent & East Sussex heritage railway, and whilst a pre-booked service was operating, we saw no signs of any trains. We drove back to the pub, thinking the management wouldn’t mind if we were early, and fortunately we were right. 

I’d already checked out the White Hart’s Corona-related safety measures online, and judged them to be more than adequate, so after the following the designated one-way system we entered via the front-door, sanitised our hands and presented ourselves at the bar. Our early arrival was no problem and we would find a table, with out name on it, in the large garden at the rear. We could order our drinks at the bar first, and then come back in, again following the one-way system to order our food. 

I’d already spotted the Harvey’s handpump on the bar, bit there were also a couple of beers from Rother Valley – highly appropriate, plus another local beer from Romney Marsh Brewery. It was a pint of Sussex Best for me, plus a pint of Estrella Dam for Matthew. 

We found our way out to the garden, and our pre-booked table, but judging by the number of empty spaces, there appeared no real need to book. This was shortly after 2pm, so perhaps the main lunchtime rush was already over. We’d already looked at the menu online and had both decided on cod and chips. Matthew had already noticed the waitress carrying some out to another table, so Moby and chips it was! 

Before ordering I took a few mouthfuls of the delectable pint of Harvey’s in front of me. It was pure nectar, and almost worth four month’s wait. Cool, refreshing and well-conditioned it was everything I’d expected, and more! As I was driving, I couldn’t have another, and had I been scoring it would have come out as a 3.0 – 3.5 NBSS. 

Our food arrived soon after, freshly fried cod in a crispy batter, with hand-cut chunky chips. This hearty fare represented our first pub meal, and indeed first hot food, served away from home, since the start of lock-down. This was fish and chips at its best, and both tasted every bit as good as they look in the photo.

Like many establishments up and down the country, the White Hart is participating in the chancellor’s “Eat Out to Help Out” scheme, as proclaimed by the “A” board outside the pub. I’m tempted to take a mid-week trip down to Newenden, this time including Mrs PBT’s, even if it does involve a fifty-mile round trip.

Matthew got a round in before we left; a small lime and soda for me, and another pint of Estrella for him. It was good to see the White Hart re-opened and starting to do OK, after four months of closure, but it’s interesting to note that this was only my second visit to the pub, despite having driven past countless times.

I informed Matthew that this was his second visit as well. “What do you mean?” he said, “I’ve never been here before.” I told him he had, but that he was unlikely to remember the occasion. The reason for this was that Eileen and I called in one autumn day, for a quick drink and look around. She was carrying Matthew at the time and was seven or eight months pregnant. Little did we think at the time, that our unborn child would be returning there 29 years later as a fully grown man!