Cider and perry are not just for summer.

Cider and perry are not just for summer.

Cider and perry are not just for summer.

CIDER AND PERRY ARE NOT JUST FOR SUMMER.

CIDER AND PERRY ARE NOT JUST FOR SUMMER!

What are cider and perry? … well done. We can continue.

Sort-of-sorry for labouring a point we’ve repeated over and over and over again on this site, but it really can’t be laboured enough. Cider and summer are so strongly entwined in the British psyche (perry, of course, isn’t really in the British psyche whatsoever) that those of us who see fit to bash the keyboard in the name of the fermented apple really do need to keep reiterating it.

The issue, of course, is that the majority of cider sold in the UK is light, sparkling, fairly sweet, fairly dilute stuff. And therefore, irrespective of personal preference, more easily linked to heady outdoor days in the summer sun than, say, the gasp of hearthside warmth that greets you as you step in, pink-cheeked and bobble hatted, from the frosted grip of winter.

But as a wise and wonderful reader of this website you will be well aware that this style is but the merest tip of cider’s mighty taxonomic iceberg, and indeed that there are ciders far more naturally suited to huddling in for winter than they are to lounging on the grass with a refreshing thirst quencher.

A second point that the beleaguered British cider communicator must labour is that cider is not merely a pint for the pub, but a multifaceted food-matcher par excellence, capable of setting the crown on any number of dishes. Pitching a drink as not only a companion for food but a means by which a dish might be heightened grants it a measure of respect and dignity. But cider is all too often entirely overlooked in this regard, and when articles actually are penned on the topic they tend to run in a ‘top 10 dishes for cider and why every single one is just a different cheese’ direction.

So, with arguably the most notoriously gluttonous day of the year (at least in the British calendar) hoving into view, and with that day falling famously and conveniently in the bleak midwinter, I thought I’d turn my attention to the best ciders and perries to pair with festive fodder.

A few asterisks before I begin, the first of which is to point you towards this excellent piece of 2020 in which Ben Thompson (whose writing is much missed, but who, marvellously, has joined us for a few episodes of Cider Voice and is especially expert in food pairings) did more or less exactly what I’m about to attempt, and far more efficiently too. Never let it be said that I’m afraid to join a party three years late.  

Secondly, the variations between Christmas dinners are many and storied and important, even between people with comparatively similar cultural backgrounds. As someone whose Christmas dinners have, with a single exception, all been cooked by the same person, and since that person sent me a list of ingredients, preps and timings for that sole exception (thanks mum), my own experience is inevitably as narrow as it gets. (Though Caroline did contribute a red cabbage side that one year which pretty much counts as a gastronomic revolution where my Christmases are concerned).

Anyway, all of which is to say that the dishes and pairings below are drawn from my own demonstrably limited experience of festive eating. So if your own late-December food habits differ markedly from what follows, please tell me about it in the comments. I would love to know … and perhaps we can unearth some cider and perry pairings I had never previously considered.

Finally, the great sadness and irony of this Definitive List Of The Greatest Cider And Perry Pairings For Festive Food, which is that I will definitely not get to experience them myself, at least for the forseeable future. Whilst I could probably twist my parents’ arms into indulging me, my sister would certainly have complaints, being indifferent at best to cider and a stated disliker of perry. Ironic given my earliest memories of perry are of her drinking Babycham at Christmas circa 2005. But I digress. And Am Not Bitter. We shall be having some wine, which will be lovely*.

Anyway – consider these cider and perry and festive food pairings to be my early Christmas present to you, and you can tell me all about their unparalleled brilliance on Boxing Day.

With random oven snacky things at Christmas parties 

You know the sorts of thing. The stuff that probably props up much of Iceland’s profit line at this time of year. (The supermarket, not the Atlantic country). Virtually every foodstuff you can think of, so long as it is miniature, beige, wrapped in pastry and can be bunged in the oven with about 80 more of its ilk. Mini quiches, cocktail sausages in honey-mustard cement (my favourite tbh), gloopy cheese encased in miscellaneous carbohydrate and those breadcrumb things with a prawn’s tail sticking out of them that I have long suspected are no guarantee of actual prawn.

Anyhow, these are such stuffs as Christmas party foods are made of, and as such are worthy of their own considered pairing. And the key thing to consider when considering your considered pairing in this instance is that people eating random oven snacky things at Christmas parties wish to spend exactly no time considering the contents of their glass. (With the notable exception of my best man’s father, who uses such occasions to set unsuspecting youths on decades-long career paths via the tactical application of oak-aged Spanish reds.) 

In wine terms we are absolutely and quite rightly in ‘do you want red or white?’ territory here, and in pomme terms we should really leave it at ‘cider or perry?’ The cider and perry in question should be crowdpleasing, should have no excesses or notable extremities (no Foxwhelps or Flakey Barks, please) and should be couchable and understandable within the ubiquitous and much-maligned terms of ‘smooth’ and/or ‘crisp’. Tasty without stealing focus; good topper-uppers; the sort of drinks that just keep everyone happy and, in the fullness of time, perhaps gently buzzed, without trying to be the main event.

Cider tip: Discovery. Easy. Cider’s answer to Sauvignon Blanc – in vibes, rather than in flavour. Fresh, juicy, with bright strawberry and citrus fruit but whose acidity remains house-trained level rather than blow-holes-in-your-cheeks. Sam Nightingale’s Wild Disco is the classic, but other Discovery is certainly available.

Perry tip: Much has been written in wine circles on the ‘juicy banger’. Your Malbec, Merlot, possibly varying levels of Shiraz and Beaujolais. Unoaked Rioja. The zero-edges, endlessly moreish, easy-to-please ‘party red’ that is simply about oodles of tasty fruit. Hendre Huffcap is its pear-shaped spirit animal. All the melon and pear and tropical tones of Blakeney Red (with extra apricot) but with a little added zip that adds to its easy-drinking charm. 

What I’ll be having: Some wine.

First thing in the morning (pork pie optional)

Christmas mornings are fractured affairs in my household in this day and age. There’ll be a very brief congregation of my parents, sister and I for chocolate orange-type morning presents, but thereafter we are very much a house of many parts. Some will head churchward, others kitchenward and still others back to bed. There’ll be those on the top floor who are wondering what on earth they’ve married into (Caroline’s thoughts on mornings are much the same as Herod’s on infants, and the fact of it being Christmas alters nothing) and spare a thought for Nutmeg the cat, who finds herself 5 hours drive from home in a house that now includes two dogs. 

Following a combination of cajoling, emotional manipulation, bribes, the spirit of marital support, courage and cattle prods we’re more or less in some shape to do presents late morning, but by this stage I’ve come to understand Christmas morning booze as less carefree festive revelry and more iron necessity. My sister, who always has an eye out for the latest modern innovations, was the one who introduced us to the custom of fizzy wine on Christmas morning, but in this instance I have been a willing acolyte. Glass of fizz, offer to do the potatoes, keep out of the way, job’s a good’un.

And amidst all this my father will have a pork pie.

This is our family’s sole breakfast tradition on Christmas Day. Don’t think I could tell you what or indeed if I have ever eaten on Christmas morning, but dad has his only pork pie of the year – always from Melton Mowbray, as I’m given to understand is proper, always eaten solo. I must confess that the sight of the jelly which glues pork to pastry has always deterred me from joining him, but as a person to whom the ‘morning coffee on my own’ ritual is virtually sacred, I like to think that his pork pie represents a similar oasis, of the sort never needed more than on Christmas day. Anyway, here is what I would suggest he had with it, were he that way inclined. (He isn’t – he will have coffee and maybe orange juice).

Cider tip: Fatty pork of the pork pie variety wants acid really. And probably a bit of tannin, but mainly it wants acid. And it’s breakfast for goodness’ sake, so nothing too heavy. Foxwhelp would certainly have the aforementioned cattle-prod affect, but I’m going to surprise myself and suggest Stoke Red instead, if you can find any. Just something a bit richer and a bit less aggressive, but which still digs into that pork. Dry please. And slightly fizzy too I reckon. Kingston Black and Brown Snout won’t see you wrong, either, for slightly different reasons.

Perry tip: Moorcroft, I’d say. Perry isn’t quite as good with pork as cider is, for the simple reason that nothing is as good with pork as cider is, but Moorcroft has that combination of decent acidity and enough heft of body and fruit without being too much for this stage of the day.

What I’ll be having: Some wine (fizzy, maybe with orange juice)

With sort of smoked salmon bits whilst you open presents

A Christmas staple at our house, as at so many. Pre-lunch, at the main present time, when we’ve all found our way into the lounge, mum will present the sort of smoked salmon bits. They take a few different forms and cater to a few different preferences, but all oscillate, first and foremost, around smoked salmon.

As of last year this pairing has been a delicate exercise, since my sister has taken charge of a rescue dog, who is absolutely as good as gold until there is food in the vicinity when he becomes as good as Caesium in a swimming pool. The necessity of guarding a small plate of smoked salmony bits in one hand, stabilising a champagne flute with another, whilst somehow attempting to unwrap presents is one that should leave Darwin with some head-scratching.

And a champagne flute it must be, for we are pairing with smoked salmon and therefore your drink must sparkle. Whilst it is always important to respect personal preference, it is equally important to acknowledge that pairing smoked salmon with a drink that is not sparkling is an act of wanton monstrosity that should be punishable with a fine, points on your license and a food and drink awareness course.

Traditional method cider and perry is the boring and obvious route here, and one I shall be taking for precisely that reason. 

Cider tip: Chalkdown. In this instance I find myself leaning towards a style that speaks as much of method as of apple, which is why I’m leaning away from Bollhayes or Little Pomona’s Brut Zero, for instance. But I do also want some maturity, I think, so unless you happen to have squirreled away some library vintage Find & Foster or the like, I’d go Chalkdown. Extra Lees Aged if you can find it. Otherwise as old as you can get, for some depth and richness alongside the acid and sparkle which will offset your smoked salmon so beautifully.

Perry tip: I actually think that the relative lightness and floaty fragrance of perry has a little advantage over the more intense bite of cider here, especially when it’s allied to the creamier mousse of traditional method. So you can get away with a younger perry, and that is what I would be inclined to try, in the form of Little Pomona’s Brut de Poiré. With its happy dovetail of fruit and lees as well as just enough acidity to offset the smoked salmon oiliness, this will keep everyone very happy. And it’s beautiful sipped on its own, which is important since if you’re anything like me (or my sister’s dog) those smoked salmon bits will have gone in nothing flat.

What I’ll be having: Some wine (fizzy, slightly fancier)

With roast turkey and your own traditional sides

Some cook the turkey upside down. Some cut crosses in their sprouts. Some fry their sprouts with bacon whilst for others the true centrepiece of Christmas is spiced red cabbage. There are gravy folk, bread sauce folk, cranberry sauce folk and folk who like all three or none of the above. Everyone wants bonus pigs in blankets, other than the people who don’t want pigs in blankets at all. Navigating the Christmas dinner main course (and we don’t do starters in our house – that’s what the smoked salmon bits were for) can be a minefield, and no two are alike. We’re a turkey family ourselves, but even within family Wells one size doesn’t fit all, since my sister is now vegetarian and so has something else.

What we want here then is something as close as possible to a one-size-fits-all drink. There certainly isn’t a single ‘best’ option; in wine terms I’d probably lean towards something like Bordeaux or Rioja a. Because I like them, b. Because I’m probably a stuffy old classicist at heart and c. Because, importantly, they combine acid, tannin, decent body and intensity of flavour without being overwhelmingly enormous. So they have the structure and flavour to cope with a Christmas feast without sitting on top of it or feeling too too heavy.

With that in mind, here’s what I’d swap them out for if I was drinking cider and perry.

Cider tip: Raison d’Être or possibly The Old Man and The Bee. Either way, a dry, oak aged Herefordshire bittersweet with little or no fizz – cider’s most convincing answer to Bordeaux. Possibly an even more Christmassy answer would be Yarlington Mill, but I think the weight and structure of these two – with their Dabinett-Bisquet and Dabinett-HMJ interplays respectively – would work better. I’d lean towards the former, just, with the caveat that it would have to be a Dabinett-heavy and ideally Islay cask Raison d’Être, since I want the body of the Dabinett and I think the smoke would do interesting things with the various festive flavours. So 2019, of available stock. (If you have an older vintage, lucky you).

Perry tip: On heft alone I’m tempted to say Flakey Bark here, and if Flakey Bark is up your street (as it is mine) it’d do you very nicely – it’ll certainly stand up to your roast and trimmings. But it’s such an intense and potentially polarising drink that I’m going to be a coward and recommend something completely different. Austria’s Haselberger make a stellar oak-aged perry called Pyrus. Though we’re moving in a markedly different direction to my cider recommendation, we’re not far off the vibes (though not the flavours) of some higher-acid white Burgundies. It’ll cut though the richnesses of your dinner, with enough depth and intensity of flavour riding over the top. 

What I’ll be having: Some wine (red)

With Christmas pudding

I’m not a big dessert person, especially when dessert is as big and hefty as Christmas pudding, but I am very, very much a dessert drink person, especially when it comes to cider and perry.

Christmas pudding is all about body and flavour and weight – and even if, like me, you’re not having the pudding itself, you’re chasing a rich and heavy main course. And in any case, the vibes of Christmas call for depth and richness and comfort. So we want something old, something rich, something indulgent. Something sweet – but whose sweetness is tempered with enough structure to override the unctuousness of Christmas pudding or cake.

Cider tip: Easy. Long-aged Eden Ice Cider. Queen Mab if you still have some, Falstaff if you don’t. You can find great alternatives in Sweden and Poland and Canada, but Eden, for their length of barrel-ageing and the resultant balance of dark sweet fruits, savoury umami and nuts and skewer of acidity is unbeatable.

Perry tip: Could go ice perry, and if you’re not having pudding it’s a good shout. But if you are having pudding I’d want the extra heft and depth of a long barrel-aged and fortified Mostello from Destillerie Farthofer. Go for a Süss to balance out the sweetness of the pudding and indulge yourself.

What I’ll be having: Some wine (red again, with apologetic look to untouched white. I’ll have not bothered to buy a sweetie.)

With grotesque quantities of chocolate

Look. At some point on Christmas day there’s a good chance that you or someone else is going to eat grotesque quantities of chocolate. If that’s you, I urge you not to try and pair it with cider. Or perry. Or wine. These drinks hate chocolate. Its enormous mouth-coating thickness and sweetness makes them seem bitter and thin. You might get away with port or pommeau but I just don’t think it’s worth the heartache. Anyone telling you that cider or perry or wine go with grotesque quantities of chocolate is telling you naughty fibs. And anyway, you’re eating grotesque quantities of chocolate. I bet the last thing you’re thinking is ‘ooh what drink would go really well with this?’ Whisky or other oak-aged spirits, if you really must.

Cider tip: Don’t even try.

Perry tip: Don’t even try.

What I’ll be having: A big walk to stave off a big sit down and attempt to stall upset stomach.

With mince pie in the evening

This is less about pairing with the actual mince pie and more about pairing with the soporific end-of-long-gluttonous-day atmosphere. Being totally honest, at this stage of the evening, given my omnibibulous nature, I’m probably abandoning fruit-based drinks entirely in favour of whisky, but that’s no fun for this article, and fruit-based drinks pair better with fruit-based mince pies after all. Port is the traditional approach, especially to those who feel that stenchy blue cheese in a warm room after a large meaty dinner is somehow appropriate, and I’ve followed its fortified example here. 

The key thing with this pairing is making sure the mince pie is deep fill, without one of those sneaky giant air pockets between pastry and mincemeat. Always make sure it is a pie, not a lie.

Cider tip: Old pommeau. As with our Christmas pudding pairing, the longer it’s been in oak and glass the better. I don’t know whether Antoine Marois has released his yet, but assuming he hasn’t, my absolute dream would be the Manoir de Durcet Cuvée 2015. Since there’s no chance whatsoever of me getting that in the UK, Burrow Hill’s Somerset Pomona would be a sterling alternative. Anything huge and rich and packed with dark dried fruits and spice.

Perry tip: Domfrontais pear mistelle. Or Mostello again, but I’ve already used that once. The mistelles actually might pair better – less from a ‘match the brooding evening’ perspective and more from a ‘literally going really well with the mince pie’ point of view. Their honeys and toffees and fudge and dried apricots, with just a twist of acidity, will offset your pie deliciously and put you at slightly less risk of a food coma to boot.

What I’ll be having: Some wine (made from barley and then distilled). Maybe port. Maybe a mistelle but I don’t have any in right now, so probably not.

With an entire cold turkey leg that you eat in private like a medieval painting

My father has his pork pie Christmas custom and this is mine. Occasionally it falls apart as a result of my being too full to even contemplate it, but if I have strength in my heart and space in my stomach (and if there is a leg left) finding an empty room for half an hour and eating an entire turkey leg like a portly baron in a feasting hall is my particular brand of exercising wellness. 

The ‘room to yourself’ is the key pairing here – the turkey leg is as much an excuse for it as an explicitly desired foodstuff – but since the aim is revival and the foodstuff simply a big lump of unvarnished white meat with quite a lot of residual grease (I never said it was healthy wellness) I have chosen the cider and perry pairing accordingly, should you like to undertake the same exercise.

Cider tip: Foxwhelp. It is needed. It is time. C1 2022 or Sum of the Parts 2. The Oliver’s Out of the Barrel Room if you can find any left, or the Cwm Maddoc 2017 or 2019 blends. The Artistraw is delicious, but not quite the required intensity. Their flavour and acidity is the splash of cold water you need at this point, and the almost-incidental scalpel to the oil and protein of the turkey leg.

Perry tip: Kertelreiter’s Helden, Haselberger’s Grüne Pichelbirne or Ross-on-Wye’s 2019 Thorn for exactly the same reasons as above. 

What I’ll be having: Some wine (whatever is still left).

Happy pairing – and to you, your families or whoever you spend the days with, a very happy festive season. (To my family, thanks for being good sports – can’t wait to see you for Christmas!)

*My sister does not read this blog. But my parents sure do and I bet you a quid they’ll reference this article at some point.