My reputation’s in tatters.

It was the Saturday of the Ross-on-Wye Festival. I’d been paying my respects to the producers with stalls set up in the top barn, as you do, and my perambulation had taken me thus far to the Artistraw stand, where Lydia had been taking me through their then-range.

This being Rossfest I wasn’t taking notes, just soaking things up and letting them all kind of mentally settle where they may – so I can’t remember exactly which ciders they were (none were of today’s flight, I think) but all were good to very good, with two of them prompting particularly impressed babbling on my part.

That’s when it happened: ‘you’ve got a sweet tooth,’ said Lydia.

Being commendably transparent in their labelling, Artistraw have the residual sugar of every cider and perry noted in grams per litre (g/l) on their bottles. And the two I’d singled out scored particularly highly in that respect.

The accusation! The shame! I, a determined and long-standing snubber of puddings, inverterate stan of all things fully fermented, standing in the cathedral of dry British cider – the Ross-on-Wye top barn – unmasked as nothing more than a sugar-botherer. All form of response drained from me; not even a belated crumb of esprit d’escalier as, weighed down by my newly-assigned saccharine place in life, I trundled from the barn, ashamedly clutching my bottle of medium, muttering darkly and vowing revenge.

All right. I may have embellished this narrative for dramatic purposes. In the first instance, Lydia and Tom are the last people to criticise anyone for enjoying sweeter cider. Indeed our last meeting with them in these pages was expressly to extol the virtues of sweetness, following a thumping instagram post Lydia had written suggesting that sweeter cider didn’t get its due. ‘Vowing revenge’ might be an overstatement too unless you count the secret project I have roped Lydia into which will likely cost her one entirety of her free time next year. (Watch this space). And, to paraphrase The Tempest, which has been taking up the entirety of my free time lately: ‘was e’er a man sweet-toothed who hath drunk as much Raison d’Être as I?’

In any case, a look back my personal drinking history suggests that Lydia might have a point. I’ve showered the likes of Pommeau and ice cider – both of which are inherently sweet – with glittering encomiums. I’ve penned paeans to AOP Domfront perry and Mostello Süss and hoovered up cold racks and keeves by the dozen. I’m on record as calling Eden’s Queen Mab 2011 – weighing in at an almighty 150-odd g/l residual sugar – my all-time favourite cider, and I don’t think that’s changed since. Plainly I am just a massive sweetie. A shill for Big Sugar.

This should not, of course, be anything contentious. There can be a slight tendency – we’re all guilty of it; I certainly am – of considering dry cider to be inherently worthier, more ‘grown up, greater proof of discernment. An implication, occasionally, that dry cider equals proper cider. The longer one spends around the world of aspirational cider, the drier one often tends to end up drinking – I can think of several makers (Artistraw, indeed, would be one of them) whose output I would say has tacked drier overall in the last few years, and whose personal tastes encompass more dry cider than it once did. And it’s telling that the most commonly-seen dismissal of macro brands is that they are ’sweet muck’. (‘Muck’ often substituted for something ruder). 

Without wishing to be the sweet tooth that protests too much, I do think that the conversation around ‘sweetness’ is a little binary. In the first instance there is a clear difference – organoleptically as well as philosophically – between ciders which have been backsweetened with sugar or artificial sweetener (or even with apple juice) compared to ciders which are naturally sweet either as a result of the cold-racking, cryo-concentrating, cryo-extracting or fortification processes. (If these are unfamiliar terms, our taxonomy of cider styles may help!)

In the second instance there is an important question to be raised around ‘balance’.

‘Balance’ is a tricky term to define, with more than a little room for subjectivity. In my wine years, making my way through the WSET courses, ‘balance’ would be one of the four key factors (along with length, intensity and complexity) that I would be asked to consider at the conclusion of any Systematic Approach to Tasting (SAT) note in an exam. Fundamentally, a ‘balanced’ example would be one in which no characteristics seemed out of whack (another technical term). Did acidity seem too low, did alcohol feel too hot, were tannins too astringent and so on.

Where sweetness was concerned, an ‘unbalanced’ sweeter wine would generally be one which lacked acidity. Acidity provides refreshment and ‘cut’. Without its moderation, sugar might seem cloying. It is why many of the great sweeter styles – Port, several categories of German Riesling, Sauternes, Tokaji, Madeira and so on (all of which I adore, incidentally) – have notable properties of acidity. It is precisely the balance of acidity and sugar which sits at the heart of the greatest and arguably only acceptable pancake topping (lemon and sugar – don’t come at me, comments are closed) and it is upon this same see-saw of acidity and sweetness that the most successful sweet ciders find equilibrium.

Queen Mab 2011 was the masterpiece that it was and is expressly because it took a very high acid apple (Ashmead’s Kernel) and used natural sweetness, time and oak as a counterpoint to that acidity. Many an ice cider has similar piquancy, particularly in youth – and the preservative properties of both acid and sugar are what give them such longevity. The subject of Lydia’s case for sweet ciders was Artistraw’s Kingston Black – an apple that also comes with a meaningful acidic component. Acidity and sugar are simply very good friends. 

It’s when high levels of sweetness meet low levels of acidity that I start pining for something drier. A pure bittersweet with pronounced residual sugar can often be heavy-going, lacking that lift and refreshment that acidity can provide. This, incidentally, is one of my very, very few asterisks against some classic Norman and Breton Pommeaux – being made from almost exclusively bittersweets both in both juice and spirit, they can sometimes be heavy going (though oak and maturity and the nibble of spirit often adds important spice and vibrancy).

All of which is to say that whilst I’m perfectly happy to concede that I often love a cider with a good helping of residual sugar, I’d argue that I have less a sweet tooth than a ‘balance tooth’. Except that sounds smug and pretentious and just plain weird, so let’s actually not argue that and indeed pretend I never wrote it.

Instead, shall we taste some Artistraw? That sounds more fun.

The five I have lined up today make up Tom and Lydia’s Autumn outturn, I suppose. They were all released at once (as far as I’m aware) and I should admit upfront, per CR rules, that mine were all sent as free samples. Artistraw also included a copy of their new twice-yearly magazine, ‘Shrewminations’, whose title was the handiwork of an absolute genius who shall remain nameless, and which I highly recommend as more than worth the £3 entry fee. Everything I’m reviewing today is available from the Artistraw website, and you can buy the full mixed selection (including magazine) should you wish for £67 here. All were bottled pét nat, at varying levels of sweetness.

First up is ‘Ailey’ 2021, the only perry of the flight (boo). It was made from an unidentified pear variety grown on trees depicted on the label, which is perhaps my all-time favourite on any bottle of cider or perry. I would buy it as a poster were it sold as such. Sadly the trees behind this perry are dying, but Tom and Lydia have taken scions for grafting in their own orchard, so in a few decades time there’ll hopefully be more perry of this variety to come. In the meantime, let’s try this one. (35 g/l for those tracking sweetness).

Artistraw Ailey 2021 – review

How I served: Chilled, per recommendation on cap

Appearance: Hazy lemon juice. Minimal fizz.

On the nose: Lovely, fresh, fruity aromatics. Takes a sort of ‘Hendre Huffcap but greener’ direction – juicy apricots and a little pineapple mingled with cut grass, fresh limes, kiwi, light herbaceousness and some ripe green pear. Some touches of floral rosewater Turkish Delight too as it warms. Hugely appealing.

In the mouth: Same story. Stone fruit, especially apricots and a bigger hit of that rosewater and Turkish Delight meet soft lime skin and fresh coriander and oregano. Juiciness and vibrancy find a wonderful, balanced harmony. There’s sweetness but it’s perfectly balanced by plump body and a gentle, refreshing zip of acidity.

In a nutshell: Comfortably the best Artistraw perry to date I’d say. Simply a gorgeous, elegant, fruit-driven pleasure to drink. Too tasty to age – get it open.

Next up is one of my favourite (perhaps my very favourite) of apple varieties. Foxwhelp is certainly a high acid variety – and Artistraw have judiciously met that acidity with sweetness for their 2022 single variety bottling, which weighs in at a mighty 63 g/l residual. Too much sugar? Or will Foxwhelp’s irrepressible acidity, especially at such a young age, still prove too razor toothed? Alongside the single variety cider is a ‘ciderkin’ (in wine terms a ‘piquette’) made by rehydrating the pomace after pressing and fermenting the resulting mixture for a naturally low-abv drink. (Again, our taxonomy has more details for those curious). The ‘Foxikin’ being both lower abv and lower sugar (10 g/l), we’ll start with that one.

Artistraw Foxikin – review

How I served: Chilled

Appearance: Sauvignon Blanc. Vibrant mousse.

On the nose: Super aromatic – leaps from the glass. Amazingly pronounced aromas given this is a ciderkin – but that’s Foxwhelp for you. Actually seems to tack more Discovery-esque in its tones (but then isn’t Discovery basically dilute Foxwhelp anyway? I joke, I joke). Pink aromas rather than red, soft rather than steely. Strawberries and sherbet. Tuck shop pick’n’mix. Love Hearts. Pink lemonade. Then an interesting, deeper, almost musky, incensy perfume. Fascinating. A nose full of joy.

In the mouth: Bursting with youthful vim and vigour on the palate. An irrepressible peal of bubbles and freshness and tang and hot pink fruit. Pink lemonade again. Confectionary without being confected if that makes sense – remains crisp and very fresh, with tempered acidity. Soda and sherbet and red-fleshed apple and strawberry lace. All very yummy.

In a nutshell: Light of body but pumping with flavour, this drink is just a frivolous delight.

Artistraw Foxwhelp 2022 – review

How I served: Chilled

Appearance: Rich rose gold. Perfectly clear. Steady mousse.

On the nose: That’s an indulgent, rich Foxwhelp aroma and no mistake. Has the redness typical of ripe examples of this variety but in a deep, sticky, when-was-your-last-dentist-checkup kind of way. Strawberry ice cream. The centres of jammy dodgers. Raspberry coulis, glacé cherries. Cranberries and redcurrants slowly stewed into syrup. The fruit is so ripe and clear and fresh and fragrant. There’s no nose like Foxwhelp, is there?

In the mouth: Oh what a sensational delivery. Utterly defined, chiselled clarity of flavour – a rich, clean tolling of a bell – whilst acid and fruit sugars entwine in perfect harmony. All those decadent notes of the nose persist, accented by sherbety fizz and a deep sour red cherry acidity. (Though by Foxwhelp standards – perhaps partially because of ultra-ripe 2022, the acidity isn’t nearly as fearsome as you’d expect from year-old Foxwhelp. Rather it is simply delicious). It gives clear sight of the true genius of Foxwhelp; that where some varieties, especially some cooking varieties, have little depth or breadth of flavour behind their big hit of acid, Foxwhelp is so layered and complex and rich in its fruit. This is simply magnificent.

In a nutshell: One of the most delicious, crystalline, deep, balanced and beautiful Foxwhelps ever. A masterpiece of potential extremes brought into harmony. Drink now or save for up to 10+ years, easy.

Right. Good luck following that, next cider. In this case their regular blend, ‘She Loves Shrew (Yeah, yeah, yeah)’ based around the rare Knotted Kernel apple. Augmented with Yarlington Mill, Kingston Black and Herefordshire Redstreak). Knotted Kernel was a Somerset bittersweet thought lost before being rediscovered in New Zealand, of all places, by Trevor FitzJohn of TeePee Cider. It subsequently turned out not to be lost anyway, since Artistraw harvest theirs from massive old Herefordshire trees.

Whilst this cider isn’t quite as sweet as the Foxwhelp, clocking in at 43 g/l, it’s worth noting that its titratable acidity is significantly lower (3.8 g/l compared to 11.8 in the Foxwhelp). How will that affect my perception of its balance? Only one way to find out…

Artistraw She Loves Shrew (Yeah, yeah, yeah) 2022 – review

How I served: Chilled from fridge, as per label, but I suspect this to be colder than ideal for this cider. Chilling prevents risk of any cold-racked pét nat-related gushing, but once opened I left to stand for about an hour. So tasted lightly chilled.

Appearance: New pennies. Frothy mousse.

On the nose: Another great aroma, this time tacking firmly bittersweet. Bitter orange – even bergamot – tutti fruitti tropical tones. Orange jelly cubes and fruit pastilles. A little leathery overtone, but the fruits remain the stars. Deep, juicy, summer-meets-autumn stuff. 

In the mouth: Full-bodied delivery – a mouthfull of that orange and mango and sundry tropical fruits. There’s a little grippy astringency – definitely don’t drink this fridge cold, I’d say – an absolutely a higher perception of sweetness than in the Foxwhelp or the perry, though it has sufficient acidity to remain balanced, for sure.

In a nutshell: Full-bodied, juicy, chewy, rich, deep, soulful bittersweet cider for lengthening nights and darkening days. Another cracker. (Especially for the sweet-toothed).

Ok, that’s enough sugar. Time to dry out. ‘Strange Shrew’, a blend of Yarlington Mill, Bisquet and Foxwhelp (cracking variety choices) has less than 3g/l. That should do the trick. Another pét nat, wild fermented, no sulphites, all that jazz. Another cracking label too. (Does Lydia actually have free time anyway?!)

Artistraw Strange Shrew 2021 – review

How I served: Room temperature.

Appearance: Rich, deep caramel orange. Lightest haze. Mild mousse.

On the nose: And we’re five for five on epic aromatics. This one pushes further into autumn, with blood orange (flesh and skin), dried pink grapefruit, forest floor and woody musk (just from the bittersweets especially Yarlington – no oak here I don’t think). Incredibly pure and concentrated in tis fruit. Thick cut marmalade. Nutmeg. Clove. Even a little sultana. All those Christmassy tones of Yarlington given brightness by Bisquet and Foxwhelp. God that’s a good bittersweet nose.

In the mouth: It’s full, it’s tannic, it’s textural, it’s pulsing with deep, autumnal orage fruit and pith and spice and tones that evoke an autumn woodland walk. There’s even pine and juniper amidst those lignin-y Yarlington spices. More dried orange and red grapefruit. Exquisite clarity, full-on arresting texture (one for tannin-lovers), huge flavour intensity. A showcase for what makes bittersweet cider special.

In a nutshell: Magnificent, huge, gastronomic Herefordshire dry bittersweet. Serve with hefty, robust food or save for indulgent moments in a few years.

Conclusions

Call the superlative police! 

A study in balance and intensity (and length and complexity, if we’re going there). An outstanding flight of ciders and perry – easily the best I’ve had from a cidery that has already provided me with so many wonderful moments in the past. The best perry I can remember from Artistraw, the best dry cider I can remember from Artistraw, and in that Foxwhelp both the best sweet cider I can remember from Artistraw and one of the best I’ve had from anyone full stop.

Aromatics were epic across the board; deliveries full, balanced, complex. Just a marvellous, varied palate-journey of a flight. As high quality as I can remember this year, really.

Artistraw just get better and better. I’ve never sat down and made a list of my favourite British cideries, but they’d have been in and around my top ten for a while now. If they keep putting out bottlings like this though they’ll be in my top five, no question. Sweet or dry – however you like your cider or perry – this is a producer to bookmark.