When we moved to Le Cassel we inherited around 40 apples trees and an incredible old cider press hewn from granite (not to mention a barrel of rotten cider destined for the calvados still). Apples had evidently played an importaunt role in the yearly cycle of the site and this was something we wanted to preserve and restore.
Having said that, as the first apples began to form, we didn’t have much of a clue what we were going to do with the coming crop. The first year of our apple adventure was about observing and learning.
A Normandy Orchard
Our trees are a motley mix of ages and varieties producing everything from small bitter yellow cider apples to a few gloriously fragrant eaters that store into January. Conditioned to the standard supermarket varieties (bred for transport, display and uniformity over taste or purpose), it is easy to forget that apples have so many different personalities. Something the American novelist Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote about rather beautifully:
An orchard has a relation to mankind and readily connects itself with matters of the heart…There is so much individuality among apples trees…One is harsh and crabbed in its manifestations; another gives us fruit as mild as charity. One is churlish and illiberal , evidently grudging the few apples that it bears; another exhausts itself in free-hearted benevolence.
Nathaniel Hawthorne, Moses from an Old Mance (1846)
All our trees, however, have been somewhat neglected in recent years and we have only just begun the task of restoring what there is and planning ahead to replace the oldest trees. Loading the van up with wheelbarrows of kindly donated horse shit and pouring over pruning diagrams has become part of the program.
An Apple Juice revelation
As an introduction to apple pressing we took part in the juice making at a local donkey sanctuary (Le Pas d’Âne) that runs a shared orchard. What interested us was firstly that they made apple juice – not cider – and secondly what a beautifully simple process it was. While we are both big fans of French cider, producing it really well is a scientific operation that we don’t yet feel motivated to tackle (especially when so much gorgeous cider is already produced on our doorstep). Hand-pressed apple juice – dark, sweet and delicious, and unlike anything available in most shops – was a different proposition. It’s ready to drink on the day it’s pressed and will last throughout the year.
In the course of an exhilarating and convivial day, we crushed the apples, pressed them, bottled the juice, pasteurised it, and cleaned up. We were certainly seduced – the sharp earthy smell, the sound of the broyeur munching apples and the vibrant taste of the juice.
Without a complete set-up to do our own pressing, we gave the bulk of our apples that year to a brilliant cider maker and organic farmer in our village. Che spent some time assisting him and learning to use a ‘cage’ press like the one we have.
Our Equipment
The following year was dominated by replacing the roof of the house, a task we (mainly Che) did ourselves with the help of expert friends. When apple time came round, we were battling to get the roof finished before winter. But apples don’t wait – they dictate the schedule and it was becoming obvious that 2017 was going to be a bumper crop. So we downed tools and via Leboncoin (a French version of Gumtree) found a couple who were retiring and selling their apple-pressing equipment as a job lot. We needed a broyeur (masher) and the wooden cage that contains the apple pulp, but we were happy to take their wooden press because the granite one we inherited (a thing of beauty) is currently lodged in the corner of an outbuilding where it is not very accessible or practical to use. One day we will move it and it will come into its own.
It was a memorable transaction. In addition to the key pieces of equipment, the sellers gave us numerous bits of advice, some bottles of their own cider from the previous year (excellent proof that the press was in working order), and some invaluable extras including three ‘herisson’ (hedgehog) stands for washing bottles. As well as helping us load the press on the roof of the van (getting it off at the other end was a challenge).
The press dates to around the 1920s and was made by the grandfather of the man we brought it from. After a bit of research, we discovered that the broyeur was older. The name of the company in Cherbourg dates it between 1886 and 1894. Apples were once crushed in circular stone troughs around which a horse or a donkey pulled a flat circular stone. The remnants of these can often be seen in villages and gardens in Normandy converted in to flowerbeds. In the later nineteenth century broyeurs were introduced using a hopper and a mechanism of rotating steel teeth to crush the apples – although still using draft animals for power. Many of these are still in service for small scale cider production, with motors replacing the four-legged workforce.
Our First Press
During our ‘first press’, we made over 200 hundred bottles over two separate days, assisted by our friend Bruno and my sister. It is a full on operation and once the juice starts flowing, there is no stopping! But an immensely satisfying one. While there is no jeopardy attached to the success or failure of our production, there is a particular feeling on seeing the rows of bottles at the end of the day and knowing that we haven’t wasted the apple harvest. Making juice has helped us start to connect with people, history and land in a new place.