Looking back I seem to end up talking about vintage whenever a Smith Hayne outturn finds its way onto the tasting table, so let’s not spoil the habit of a lifetime, eh?

Vintage – the specific impact that the growing conditions of a single year have on the characteristics of a given cider – is one of the fundamental dividing lines between that which is craft and that which is macro in the world of cider – certainly the world of British cider. Allowing for hyper-rare examples of traditional method-style cider blended champagne-house-style for year-on-year consistency (and off-hand I’m not sure I can think of any, to be honest) every British cider I would consider ‘aspirational’ has allowed itself to be subject to the vicissitudes; the natural inconsistencies; of vintage or vintages. And virtually every cider I would file in the category ‘macro,’ has not.

This is understandable on several levels. The chiefest ambition of the macro makers, the Bulmer’s (Heineken), Aston Manors, Thatchers of this world is to thwart inconsistency. For every pint of Strongbow, Stowford Press, Thatchers Gold, to taste identical to the last one you had, to the one you had the year before that and the year before that. For cider effectively to be a ‘beer but apples’ – never forget, for all the online grumbles of ‘winification’, that virtually the whole of British cider has spent the last 60 years subject to deliberate beerification, beginning with, as Gabe Cook puts it in Modern British Cider, ‘the acquisition of Taunton Cider by a consortium of breweries, “largely at the instigation of Bass and Courage”,’ and arguably reaching its zenith when the world’s largest cidermaker, Bulmers, became nothing but a Heineken brand, and a little-cherished one at that.

Consistency is incompatible with vintage. A rainy July, a cold May, an unseasonably hot September, can alter the flavours of a year’s cider completely. An understood – if sometimes dreaded – certainty of any form of plant-based agriculture, but one which virtually every grain-based drink, be it beer or whisky, has generally looked to remove from their final product. And so ciders, made, sold and influenced mostly by brewers, mostly in the same places and marketed at the same customers as their beers, were purged by water and concentrate and chaptalisation of any rogue inconsistencies; any stamp of weather or land, all to appeal to an audience presumed to want ‘beer but fruitier’.

Vintage inconsistency can sometimes be a pain to aspirational makers. Last summer and autumn I had numerous conversations with producers who were concerned about 2023 sugar levels amidst that horrible, grey, wet summer – albeit Albert at Ross-on-Wye suggested they were ultimately not as low as feared. By contrast, 2022 – like 2018 before it – was a scorcher. Off-the-charts ripeness levels; sugars and body and tannin turned up to 11.

But from my privileged position as someone whose livelihood is not dependent on vintage, and my niche as someone fascinated by the full-juice end of cider and perry’s spectrum, this inconsistency plays a central role to the joy I derive from my drinking. Tasting the fluctuations of apple or pear across the seasons; finding the consistent themes amidst the year-on-year variations, as we were able to do at the recent True Taste of Thorn event. Gradually drawing a mental map of how particular vintages express themselves in my glass and, just as interestingly, uncovering vintage outliers; those that have seemingly defied the characteristics I have come to understand of a particular year. 2019, for instance, is a vintage I’d generally rank as lighter than most of the last half-dozen or so, but how does that account for the phenomenal Welsh Mountain Prospect Orchard of that year, or indeed the Ross Thorn 2019, my pick of the ‘True Taste’ bunch? There is so much here to discover, latch onto, be surprised by. An endless avenue of gustatory exploration that, to my mind, cider drinkers are all the richer for.

I’m in danger of simply repeating things I’ve written here umpteen times before, so let’s get to the point of this article and the reason I am, yet again, using a Smith Hayne article as a prism for vintage.

In fact there are three. Firstly, Smith Hayne’s output has historically centred near-entirely on vintage exploration. In the years this excellent Devon cidery has been trading, they have consistently made three annual cuvées – their ‘Green Spot’ (which they literally call ‘vintage’), their ‘Red Spot’ Special Reserve and their ‘Yellow Spot’ traditional method. The same suit of clothes year on year, but varying in their composition depending on ripeness levels and the varieties that have performed well that year. Indeed such is their dedication to underlining the importance of vintage that in years they deem less impressive their Special Reserve is downgraded from red to pink, and merely labelled ‘Reserve.’ This is very much a maker prepared to play the cards the seasons deal them.

Secondly, to my shame, I didn’t get round to reviewing their 2021 outturn last year. (There’s only one of me, after all, and rather a lot of articles to be written about rather a lot of excellent ciders). But feeling I should make up for it, I bought a set of the 2021s from The Cat in the Glass a couple of months back, intending to cover them. And then less than a week later, completely coincidentally, I got a message from Will and Anna at Smith Hayne asking if they could send their recently-bottled 2022s. So, for the first time, I had the option of a side-by-side vintage comparison, and it seemed awfully rude not to. (For full transparency, although I had already bought a set, they also sent the 2021s).

Thirdly, and to my mind most intriguingly, Will – who had recently led a Smith Hayne tasting at the Yew Tree Cider Club – mentioned in his email: ‘in my wonderful haul of ciders from Ross-on-Wye I had 2019, ’20 and ’21 of Raison d’Être and found the reflection of vintage was very parallel to what I have found here,’ adding that he hadn’t found such a close vintage match from any other producer.

Curiouser and curiouser. Not least because Ross-on-Wye, in South Herefordshire, are certainly regionally distinct from Smith Hayne, in Devon. And having had the privilege of a couple of Raison d’Être verticals myself, and certainly more than my share of 2021 and 2022 Ross-on-Wye ciders, I couldn’t resist looking at the Smith Haynes through this lens.

Before I crack on, I thought it would be worth supplying a few words from the makers themselves about the vintages as they perceived them. So I dropped Will a note and he kindly volunteered the following:

In terms of the two vintages 2021 is I think really good without any obvious idiosyncrasy , maybe that is why it is good. 2022 was very hot and has the sugar but a lot of tannin and maybe drying tannin that might overstay its welcome. Most varieties did ok both years, maybe Yarlington Mill was better in 2022.

When we made 2021 we thought that 2020 had been so good that 2021 was a bit ho hum. In fact 2020 to me has aged in a rather boring way, all a bit polished and not really flowering – maybe it will. 2021 in contrast seems to be developing in an interesting way and is more transparent.

Because of our edelzwicker style [Ed: a term used in wines from Alsace that are blends of multiple grapes] and how blending decisions vary according to unforeseeable events during the elevage [Ed: the period between fermentation and bottling] I often don’t know which variety will predominate until I do the final calculation. Green 2021 was HMJ led, Pink 2021 YM led and green 2022 Dabinett led. 

Also in 2022 I felt that macerating everything regardless of whether it was keeved or straight up had taken a bit of spike out. So 2022 we pressed the same day as milling except for the keeved stuff. This has accentuated the tannin (maybe an error in a tannic year but I quite like to accentuate the vintage, we’re not trying for a consistent cider year to year).

In 2022 we made everything in steel, whereas 2021 the pink was nearly all neutral oak.

I say all this to point up all the confounding factors in comparing one to the other (sometimes for personal interest I think I should make a cider that had the same components every year, but I haven’t).

That being said it was fascinating to see so many common vintage elements in the Raison d’Être, not least when Martin said they were worried about the new belt press as they thought the cider might be too tannic in 2022 on that account, but I would be surprised if that were not a symptom of the vintage.

Many thanks to Will, and lots to ponder there. Perhaps his note on the lack of a particular idiosyncrasy in 2021 is what has confounded me in getting my own sense of it.

Noting his comments about variables besides vintage – varieties, maceration, a movement from neutral oak to stainless steel – let’s roll up our sleeves and see what we can discern. After all, as the wise and wonderful Cider Review readership are sensibly aware, ultimate flavour is always a composite; a mosaic; and the importance of any given factor doesn’t override the importance of another. Which is to say that we can note other variables and still go digging for the impact of vintage, which is a great relief, since that is what I am about to try and do.

I’ll be reviewing the 2021 and 2022 editions of Smith Hayne’s Green Spot Vintage, Yellow Spot Méthode Traditionelle and Pink/Red Spot Reserve/Special Reserve. I also have a Purple Spot Méthode Ancestrale that Will makes from late harvest varieties as well as a single variety Yarlington Mill, both from 2022. (I previously adored their single variety Yarlington Mill 2021 here, so I’m very excited to compare this 2022, albeit retrospectively rather than side by side).

The 2021s and the 2022 Yarlington Mill are all currently available from The Cat in the Glass. Labelling delays have slowed getting the 2022s online, but I dare say you can buy direct from Will and Anna here.

One final note which is that, having generally found Smith Hayne to lean in a tannic and structural direction with their ciders, I thought I’d experiment with, for the first time, serving all of these at room temperature (the room I review in is pretty cool, even in summer). I’ll unpick the findings from this particular experiment as I go, but the short version is that I think it was, for the most part, to the enormous benefit of the ciders. Consider it your semi-regular reminder not to bung full-juice cider in the fridge by default!

We’ll start with their Green Spot ‘Vintage’ bottlings, which are keeved, pét nat blends of predominantly bittersweet apples from the Smith Hayne orchard (where they source all their fruit.

Smith Hayne Vintage 2021 – review

How I served: Room temperature

Appearance: Mid-copper. Bright mousse.

On the nose: Deep, rich, savoury, autumnal, very west of England nose. And very much in the ballpark I associate with this maker. Apple juice, warm hay, dried leaves, leather and a touch of baking spices. Richer than other Green Spots, or has it been so long I’m making stuff up? Classic, familiar, comforting stuff anyway.

In the mouth: Full, juicy delivery, sweetness balanced again by those warm hay, savoury, HMJ-ish phenolics and the classic Smith Hayne tang of iron and new pennies on the finish that stops short of astringent and which I really enjoy. Very apple-forward in its fruit, as opposed to stone fruit/orange/tropical etc. And with a lovely structure of soft tannins and mousse.

In a nutshell: A really nice, classic west country all-rounder. Perhaps my favourite Green Spot yet.

Smith Hayne Vintage 2022 – review

How I served: Room temperature

Appearance: Deeper, richer, orangier. Frothy mousse

On the nose: Younger, burlier, deeper aromatics. They’re more concentrated – haven’t quite unfurled to the same degree as 2021. Some real orangey depth here, both fresh and jellied, alongside a greener tone of nettle leaf and some phenolic hay and leather – albeit less than in the 2021. Wet slate and a touch of cheese rind. Quite different to its stablemate.

In the mouth: Big, full delivery that is both super juicy and pretty dry by Smith Hayne standards. That mouthful of whole orange – peel, flesh, marmalade and then pith on the finish – scored with apple skins, nutmeg, clove and cinnamon bark. Lots of that iron and slate on the finish; this is definitely still young, but another full, complex, hearty, gastronomic gem.

In a nutshell: Fuller-bodied and juicier than its stablemate, if a little less developed and complex. Hard to pick a favourite, but this might have the edge in a year or so.

On to the traditional methods now, or as the Francophile folk at Smith Hayne have it, the méthode traditionnelle, which they traditionally signify with a yellow spot (although my bottle of 2022 doesn’t yet have its proper label. Unlike many a cidermaker though, Smith Hayne are definitively not trying to make a flavour facsimile of champagne, but continue to use entirely ciderapples, including bittersweets and bittersharps, which is something I always admire (much as I also love the folk who are trying to follow the champagne profile – and indeed champagne itself!)

The upshot of this is that their Yellow Spot tends to be bolder, bulkier and more structural than the average traditional method, and should definitively not be served fully chilled. But this is the first time I’ve experimented with it at room temperature. Though there are a good number of tannic apples in the cuvées, Will and Anna usually include a predominance of sharps and bittersharps, since this style tends to rely on a decent amount of acidity. These are also their driest ciders year on year.

Smith Hayne Méthode Traditionelle 2021 – review

How I served: Room temperature

Appearance: Mid-gold, vibrant mousse.

On the nose: Hmm, interesting nose, this. The lees seem to have had a significant impact – there’s a fair bit of savoury, doughy, waxy, almost slightly cheesy character. Some floral elements too, and a bit of ripe, warm lemon skin. But also perhaps a little bit of plasticine. It’s an aroma to conjure with; there are fascinating things going on here, but I’m not an enormous fan of the overall effect I’m afraid.

In the mouth: Big, powerful, complex traditional method delivery that I like a lot more than I do the nose. Close to dry, and served at this temperature the phenolics make sense of themselves; rich and structural rather than thin or pithy. A great marriage of waxy yellow fruit with those signature Smith Hayne tones of hay and wet slate and metal. A great harmony of fruit and lees.

In a nutshell: I think this is going through an awkward phase aromatically. Still fairly young after all. Maybe give it time and see if the fruit re-emerges a bit; at present it’s just a bit aromatically muddled for me.

Smith Hayne Méthode Traditionelle 2022 – review

How I served: Room temperature

Appearance: Similar to 2021.

On the nose: Oh now! There’s a beauty of a nose. All about the fruit, which is so pure and chiselled and crystalline in its expression. Seville oranges, pink grapefruit, wild strawberries and ripe Sicilian lemon. Honeysuckle, and summertime gardens. A thread of saline dough. As traditional method noses from cider apples go, this is an all-timer. I’m feeling in Eve’s Cidery territory, and that really is premier league.

In the mouth: Palate had so much to live up to, and it absolutely does; a cornucopia of the ripest orange citrus fruit offset by rosy red apples and strawberry, lightly bittered in the most refreshing way. A beautiful interplay of ripeness and depth, with that moreish trace of managed tannin on the finish. Mousse is perfectly integrated; acid, tannin, body and bubble in beautiful harmony.

In a nutshell: I think I have found my summer cider. Serve generously and for God’s sake do not over-chill!

A clear win for 2022 in the traditional method round there, though it must say that this particular 2022 would be a clear winner against most traditional method ciders I can think of. On to the Pink and Red Spots, and here Will and Anna have seemingly done the rating for me, since the 2021 is labelled merely ‘Reserve’, whereas 2022 has been given ‘Special Reserve’ status, Smith Hayne’s equivalent of declaring a vintage.

I’ll try not to be swayed by that, and to simply declare as I find. These ciders are made from the best fruit of the vintage, are predominantly keeved, are bottled pét nat, and they tend to sit at the sweeter end of the Smith Hayne spectrum. Going back a few years now, I loved the Special Reserve 2018 so much that I included it in my year-end ‘Essential Case’ of favourites, and so these tend to be the Smith Haynes that I most look forward to tasting.

Smith Hayne Reserve 2021 – review

How I served: Room temperature

Appearance: Old copper, similar mousse to previous.

On the nose: French with a Devonian accent? Or the other way round? The most Norman so far, anyway, in a plump, ripe, Pays d’Auge way. Yarlington makes itself known through currant and woody spice. Back to distinctly apple and woodland aromatics here, and it must be said that there’s a fair bit of slatey, leathery, yeasty fermentation character here too. It’s nice, if not seemingly fully resolved somehow.

In the mouth: As with the other 2021s the palate is better. Seriously juicy and full-bodied, with a whack of sugary sweetness, but tannin and fizz keep things balanced and structured. Spiced apple and polished oak. Fruitcake, blood oranges. It’s a really stellar, Yarlington-led delivery.

In a nutshell: Nose wants a bit of time yet, but this is a big, generous, Yarlington Mill-led cider for hearty far outdoors.

Smith Hayne Special Reserve 2022 – review

How I served: Room temperature

Appearance: Deep, rich brass. Same mousse.

On the nose: I’d love to know about vintage fermentation rates, because this nose is another whistle-clean fruit-bomb. Pure juice – a medley of apple and tropical fruit – laced with sweet spices, ginger syrup and just a touch of slate and saddle leather and polished wood. Feels super-concentrated; will open up further and further with time I’d guess, but there’s loads of expressive stuff here already.

In the mouth: Decadent. Juices and syrups and jellies and fruity honeys; I can hear my teeth hissing! Apricot jam, orange marmalade and spiced apple compôte. Tannins keep it all standing up straight with a little spice and grip, but this is a pure, juicy, sun-filled charmer. Why am I sat at a table writing this? Drinking this indoors should be illegal.

In a nutshell: A sweet mouthful of the pure essence of summer. Just gorgeous.

I’d say that’s another clear victory for 2022 there, so as a bit of a victory lap, we’ll try the two additional 2022 bottlings Will and Anna sent. Again, both were served at room temperature, though I belatedly noticed that Will had advised me the Yarlington might be a bit lively and I ought to have chilled it well. Worth noting that all the bottles previously reviewed were fantastically well-behaved on the fizz front, especially for being opened at room temperature. But the Yarlington definitely resulted in a minor surface wipe-down!

Smith Hayne Late Harvest Méthode Ancestrale 2022 – review

How I served: Room temperature

Appearance: Running out of synonyms for copper…

On the nose: The most farmy-phenolic of the2022s so far. A little sticking plaster, cheese and animal. Some waxy, very-ripe fruit within all that but this nose is more a story of yeasts and of fermentation for my money. Just a little mid muddled and unbalanced at present.

In the mouth: As so often there’s more fruit here, and an interesting arm-wrestle between big juiciness and some seriously uncompromising pith on the finish. Almost paracetamol. Don’t know what the apples in this were, but some seriously late, low-nutrient bittersweets would be my wager. Dark, ripe, bruised apples, stone fruit, then leather and pith.

In a nutshell: Some very phenolic Devonian fruit in this, and it shows. Lovely moments but definitely wants leaving in bottle a good while yet.

Smith Hayne Yarlington Mill 2022 – review

How I served: Room temperature. Oops….

Appearance: A bit deeper than the previous. Very excited mousse – watch out!

On the nose: What a fabulous nose good Yarlington has, and this is very good Yarlington indeed. It’s going to be a sweetie; here is cinnamon and muscovado sugar and raisin and rich chocolate orange and clove spice. This nose is positively aglow – the woodiness of those spices just adding a beautiful extra dimension to the lustrous, beaming fruit.

In the mouth: This cider tastes like the sound of a dentist’s coffers ringing. Very sweet. yet those spices and ripe Yarlington tannins grab hold of the unctuous, fruitcakey apple syrup and orange marmalade and layer it all into balance such that it never loses freshness or becomes cloying. Pure, sun-filled, guilty pleasure in a bottle.

In a nutshell: Just a sinfully delicious, utterly gluttonous cider that evokes its magnificent apple beautifully. Another one to buy in multitudes and drink leisurely outdoors.

Conclusions

Cidery first, I think. Smith Hayne were already one of my favourite British producers and so they continue to be. This is a maker for those who like their phenols; their structures and muscles and edges that prop up that big, chunky bittersweet fruit. If we’re doing comparisons I’d say that we’re along the lines of a Devonian Artistraw, though it’s not quite an exact match. Anyway, someone to very much have on your radar, on the slim off-chance they aren’t already.

Regarding the ciders, 2022 takes the laurels in terms of the direct comparisons, where I’m concerned. All three of the core range are fabulous, the Méthode Traditionelle especially so – consider this a strong nudge to Will and to other retailers to start selling it asap so it doesn’t miss the summer. The Yarlington Mill was also a cracker – it says a lot about how good Smith Hayne is with this variety that I seem to have liked the 2021 even more, looking back.   

I see Will’s point about the chunkiness of the 2022 tannins, but I wonder whether this was partially mitigated by my serving them at room temperature. Certainly I didn’t encounter anything that felt like astringency other than on the Purple Spot. And, incidentally, consider me converted to serving Smith Haynes at this temperature. I certainly wouldn’t be putting them in the fridge any longer than an hour in future.

The Green Spot Vintage was the only one where the jury’s still out. Both editions, had I tried them individually, would rank as my top Smith Hayne Green Spots ever. Interestingly, I hadn’t noticed Will’s email explaining their relative apple constituents until after I had made my notes. I’m pleased to look back and think ‘yes, those read like Harry Masters’ Jersey and Dabinett respectively’, but it does make me wonder whether these are more a story of apple than of vintage.

I’m especially intrigued at the discovery that between 2021 and 2022, Smith Hayne switched from neutral oak fermentation to stainless steel. The clarity of fruit aromatics in the latter and the occasionally slightly-excessive farminess of some of the former has me wondering how much of this was down to fermentation vessel. But I’m not nearly technically clued-up enough to make any more than the flimsiest hypothesis on that score.

So have I learned anything about vintage? Well, I think 2022 is confirmed as a huge, ripe, fruit-filled blockbuster, but no spoilers there, since we’ve known that for over 18 months now. 2021 though? Well, I think I’m starting to form a picture. A glance across at the wine industry has the following to say on the conditions of the vintage: 

‘A very challenging vintage with spring frost, rain during flowering, and a humid overcast August leading to high fungal pressure. Warmth in September and October saved the vintage and there were very good wines made in all styles.’ (jancisrobinson.com)

Although wine vintages can’t quite be compared to cider vintages – different dominant regions, fundamentally different plants and fruit etc, my impression from this tasting, and from considering a few 2021s next to other vintages is that it was a bit of a gentler version of 2020. A good balance of fruit and structure, but a little lighter in both. Perhaps this is why it seems to be evolving more quickly to Will’s palate, and it’s certainly something I’ve noticed in other bottles from other producers.

This is all completely back-of-a-napkin theory now, so I’ll sign off before I end up in the world of the completely fantastical. The bottom line is that vintage certainly matters, that it paints its own characteristics on the ciders it is allowed to influence, and that we are tremendously lucky to be living at a time when producers like Smith Hayne are increasingly giving us the chance to taste those characteristics for ourselves.