Where does cider’s flavour come from? 

Don’t say ‘apples’ – even though you’d be right to. Let’s think a little deeper. And actually, let’s work backwards. Up to a point, you could say that some of cider’s flavour comes from the point and method of serve. Being incredibly granular, the glass you drink your cider from will affect the aromas, flavours and the way your brain interprets them. The temperature of serve will certainly make a difference; too cold and those flavours will ‘clench’, something much to the detriment of tannic ciders, as I discovered in my years of innocence when I first tasted Raison d’Être.

There’s the age of the cider. How long did it wait until bottling, and how long did you wait before opening that bottle? Has time had a chance to soften, broaden and deepen those flavours – or indeed slightly spoil or ‘flatten’ the cider by taking away some of its important vitality and edge.

The maker themselves is critical. We’ve seen in these pages before how the same juice in different hands can make for ciders scarcely recognisable from one another. Methods, intentions, skill, attention to hygiene, maturation choices (eg oak or no oak – and what type of oak and what did that oak hold before it held cider) – all play a vital role in shaping the fruit’s direction of travel.

Then the fruit itself of course. Which of all of the hundreds, thousands of apples in the world made up the cider’s cuvée. A single variety or a blend? A blend of just two or three or an orchard blend of dozens? How ripe was the fruit when it was pressed? Blended at pressing or blended after maturation? What was the vintage like? Patchy and unpredictable like this year and perhaps 2019 or a bombastic mega-sugars scorcher like 2022 or 2018?

But we can go further. How about the trees on which the fruit grew? It’s fairly well-established now that the flavours of apples (or pears) from older trees often see an additional intensity of flavour compared to their younger counterparts. But what about tall, traditional trees (hauts tiges to our friends in Normandy and Brittany) versus lower, bush-trained trees (basses tiges)? Is there a difference of flavour to be found there? This is cider, so there’ll be precious little research on the subject, if any, but I’d bet a quid that the answer is ‘yes’.

And the land. I know, I know. He’s talking about terroir again. And I am. I know I’ve gone on about it before, most notably here and here, and I know some people simply aren’t interested or don’t think it’s important – and you know what? That’s fine too. But it does make a difference. It does affect flavour; it affects the inflections that the flavours of particular apple varieties produce. The chemical, biological and physical structure of the soil, the direction the trees face, the slope of the orchard, the microclimate – all impact the ways that apples and pears are able to achieve their two ripenesses – sugar and physiological. None are irrelevant. All contribute to flavour.

When the subject of terroir arises within cider – and indeed whisky, as I remember well from my blogging days and now know well from my professional day-in, day-out – the frequent put-down is that ‘well, apples and maker are more important, so terroir can’t really matter all that much’. And apple varieties probably – indeed almost certainly – do make more of a difference to flavour than terroir. The choices of the maker possibly leave a greater organoleptic thumbprint and the manner and condition in which the cider is served may well leave a more immediate and meaningful impact on the drinker. Terroir and the precise way it materialises in your glass, is a tricky thing to communicate. To explain that two Dabinetts, for instance, grown on completely different terroirs, both still taste like Dabinett, but like different takes on Dabinett, is to go into specialist territory indeed. Most people simply won’t care, and that’s fine. But it doesn’t mean that the territory is irrelevant or doesn’t exist. 

The flavours of a finished cider are the sum total of dozens and dozens of parts. To say that only one or two of them are relevant simply because they are the easiest to understand is, to my mind, reductive. Make a cider identically to, say Little Pomona’s The Old Man & the Bee, from the same varieties, from the same vintages, blended in the same proportions, fermented with the same yeasts in the same place and you will have two very different ciders. And there are a few potential different reasons for that, but to suggest that terroir is not one of them is, to my mind, baseless and wrong. Avenues of curiosity should be encouraged; the breadth and complexity of cider celebrated. There are more things in heaven and on earth than may be dreamt of in your philosophies. And that’s great. It’s part of what makes cider so extraordinary. Revel in it.

Today’s ciders are something of a complicated study in terroir – in the terroir of a single, remarkable orchard. We’ve met Welsh Mountain in these pages before, when I visited Bill and Chava at their incredible orchard and cidery in mid-Wales. Everything that I tasted that day was impressive, but my heart was truly stolen by their Prospect Orchard 2019, their annual blend of fruit from their home orchard, begun by Bill just under twenty years ago. I loved it so much that I included it in my case of favourites for that year, and have drunk several bottles since.

There can’t be many orchards even close to similar to Prospect Orchard in the world. It isn’t only the sheer orneriness of planting an orchard on a steep slope at over 1000 feet altitude in the middle of Welsh sheep-desert hills, with all the fast-draining water stress and issues of climate and land that entails. It’s the mind-boggling belligerence of not growing a single variety in multiples. Over four hundred and fifty trees and every single one is a different apple.

In the face of such a cornucopia, the final Prospect Orchard blend is inevitably going to vary wildly year on year. Not least since many of the varieties are biennial, meaning that in some vintages there’ll be few apples to press from some of the trees – if any at all. This naturally adds weight to the suggestion that terroir may be of little organoleptic importance, given the vastly different inflection of apple. I am (of course, perhaps biasedly) less sure. Whether Dabinett or Harry Masters’ Jersey or Bisquet or Discovery or Foxwhelp, each of Prospect Orchard’s trees is subject to the particular conditions of the site. Those conditions will still impact the cider that Bill and Chava are ultimately able to make. Hard, perhaps, to elucidate without tasting a great many examples, but there nonetheless. Part of the drink. After all, Albee Hill, made by Eve’s Cidery in the Finger Lakes, is a similarly annually-varying blend of apples from a single mixed orchard on a slope, and there are certainly themes which run through its different vintages, and impacts of site which its makers perceive in the cider.

Anyway – a few months ago Welsh Mountain were the guests of Birmingham Cider Club, presented by our very own Ed and Jack. I was very disappointed not to be able to make it; even more so when I discovered that it would feature a vintage vertical of Prospect Orchard. So I was delighted when Bill and Chava kindly reached out out of the blue and offered to send me the vertical regardless. The vintages I’ll be tasting today are 2016, 2018, 2019, 2020 and 2021, which at the time of sending didn’t have its final label (as you can see from my picture). 

The 2020 vintage is available from The Cat in the Glass for £12.50 whilst the 2021 can be bought as part of the ‘new releases’ selection from Welsh Mountain (you’ll have to ask them whether you can also buy it separately).

All are wild fermented without any addition of sulphites and bottled dry. Later vintages are labelled ‘pét nat’; your guess is as good as mine regarding the first couple. (My guess is that they are also pét nat, but bottled slightly closer to fermentation being finished).

Welsh Mountain Prospect Orchard 2016 – review

How I served: ‘Cellar temperature’ (Room temperature in my cold autumnal dining room)

Appearance: Hazy old gold. The lightest spritz.

On the nose: Lovely sense of development immediately. The fruit has started taking on that dried, savoury, almost gamey tertiary edge whilst retaining a ripe, juicy, peachy-orangey core. Dried leaves, dried apple slices. Spices – both sweet and savoury. Almond skin. Complex and beguiling. One of those developed cider noses that just keeps shifting and shifting with time in the glass. Could nose this for a long, long time.

In the mouth: Lovely soft fullness. Acids and tannins perfectly knitted together, just lending textural ballast to that savoury spiced fruit. Although there’s depth and development to the orange and stone fruit, there’s still real freshness and vitality here, shot through with delicious minerality and a skewer of green leaves. This is fabulously elegant cider.

In a nutshell: Totally beautiful, developed, arresting and complete cider, but can last a few more years for sure. Drink now or keep.

Welsh Mountain Prospect Orchard 2018 – review

How I served: As above

Appearance: Brighter, clear, honeyed gold. Same fizz as above.

On the nose: Overtly juicier and fruitier than the 2016 (the hallmark of 2018 British cider really). So it feels more than two years younger. Certainly doesn’t feel five years old. Nature of the fruit is also different; apple and tropical rather than so much orange and peach. Deep, rich and rounded. Clove, sultana. Very ripe, as you’d expect from the blockbuster year. Excellent fruit clarity.

In the mouth: A big, fat, booming mouthful of fruit kept in check by another fabulously-balanced acid-tannin skeleton – the through-line from 2016. Big, ripe apple and apricot with clove and savoury spices following. Tannins grow and grip in the mouth; this cider wants rich food to get its teeth into or another couple of years ageing if you can give it that. Tastes miles younger than its years. Again the poise and clarity of fruit is superb.

In a nutshell: Epic stuff. Very reflective of vintage. Has a long life ahead of it still.

Welsh Mountain Prospect Orchard 2019 – review

How I served: As above

Appearance: Copper-gold, bright fizz. (More fizz than previous vintages).

On the nose: A closer cousin to 2016. We’re back in orange and stone fruit territory, but here of course it’s younger, fresher, with a firmer edge of herb and leaf and orange pith. Really nice clarity of fruit, and that orange note has developed a ripe, jellied middle over the last year or two. A smashing nose.

In the mouth: Delivery ramps things up another notch. Absolutely delicious. Fizz is the biggest yet but it springboards huge, vibrant spiced orange and passion fruit flavours. There’s almost a saline thread –rare in cider, but totally mouthwatering – with another knockout texture of bright acidity and balanced tannin. Poised, elegant, complex, yet bright and vivid in its fruit.

In a nutshell: In my opinion one of the best ciders made in 2019 in the UK. Will drink for years to come. Should be a couple lurking online and in bottle shops I imagine. Grab any you come across without hesitation.

Welsh Mountain Prospect Orchard 2020 – review

How I served: As above

Appearance: Pretty similar to 2019

On the nose: Now there’s a nose. Nods towards 2018 in the character of its fruit; that apple and apricot thing again, but there’s a little peach here too and even some red fruit – berries. It’s very ‘woodlandy’ as well; skins and bark and leaf and woody spice (though I don’t believe this has been oak-aged). Cloves again and a distinct hint of aniseed. Evocative and complex yet youthful and concentrated.

In the mouth: Very textural delivery; we’re into the young stuff now, with grippy tannins, spritely fizz and big flavour concentration. Red apple skins, blood orange and wild strawberry. A touch of sherbet. Then more of that woody spicing and sense of sous bois. So clear and clean and complex, but will unfurl and unfurl with time and patience.

In a nutshell: Very 2020 in its structure and flavour intensity. Might end up the best of the lot, but wants rich, robust food if you’re going to open it now. My tip’s to give it a few years.

Welsh Mountain Prospect Orchard 2021 – review

How I served: As above

Appearance: Deep copper. Same fizz as ’19 and ’20. (As an aside, all of these pét nats are very well behaved. Opened without chilling and not so much as a trickle of overspill. Big hats off to Bill and Chava – take note please, pét nat makers).

On the nose: Really deep and rich. Very much in spiced apple territory – the most ‘apple juicey’ of the set. One for Yarlington Mill fans (though who knows whether this has Yarlington in it). It has that Christmassy depth. Spiced orange, cloves, toffee apple, apple pie and raisin. Lovely, comforting, fruity aromatics. A nose to suit those nights that are now drawing in apace.

In the mouth: Very texturally full and plush, though the usual seam of acid and tannin keeps things fresh. Again the tannins get grippy, but this is already softer and more ‘open’ than the 2020 I’d say; a generous mouthful of that spiced apple and orange, with tropical edges of apricot and a lovely, refreshing, rainwater-on-slate minerality.

In a nutshell: Another pure, clean, textural knockout of a cider that deserves good food and plenty of time.

Conclusions

First of all, most importantly and irrespective of any other considerations: what a brilliant set of ciders. Beautifully balanced, structural, complex, precise and crystal clear in their expression of fruit. All will age nicely; even the 2016 has a good bit of road to cheerfully run. And all are the sorts of ciders that deserve a place at the table, paired with good food. Ciders to take seriously. On long consideration I think the 2019 still edges it in terms of my personal preferences – very rare that I’d say that about this vintage – but ask me again about the 2020 in a few years. And honestly, I’d happily drink any of them again – several times.

There’s no question that their flavours reflect vintage – the 2018 and the 2020 particularly. And the hand of the maker is clear; you don’t land on ciders of this quality by accident, certainly not when walking the tightropes of pét nat presentation and zero-added-sulphites. As expected, flavours varied significantly year on year. I’d be fascinated to know anything about the various different blends, but I imagine percentages of each constituent apple are so small I’d never have a chance at picking each one out, even if I were a far better taster than I actually am.

But does this flight reflect its orchard of origin? That’s a question almost impossible to answer out of context. And it is context that is key to understanding the flavours of terroir. The inflections of the land are so much easier to understand in, say, Burgundy, where winemakers are all more or less working with the same two grapes, and where wine lovers can try Pinot Noir from a hundred different orchards and a hundred different makers (admittedly only if they’re very well heeled) and begin to mentally weed out what is grape, what is maker and what is terroir. In cider, where Bill and Chava are the only maker within miles of their orchard, where no one is using precisely the same blend of varieties as they are, and only a handful of people even close to similar methods, I’d be lying if I said I was doing anything but guessing. That clean-lined acid-tannin structure might well be influenced by a cooler climate and the water stress of a free-draining slope. It’s an educated guess, a not unreasonable guess, but a guess is all it is.

We may only ever have the faintest understanding of the specific differences that specific terroirs make to specific flavours of specific ciders – certainly in my lifetime. And that’s enough for some people not to be interested, and that’s fair enough and their business. But I believe – no, I know – that it matters to the flavours of Prospect Orchard that it grew on this hill; in this place. That the same blend made elsewhere would, must be different, even if it was made from apples grown just on the other side of the valley. And I’ll keep on celebrating that difference when I taste a Prospect Orchard, and I’ll keep wondering about it and searching for it through all the vintages to come.