Today might look like a review of a selection of Norwegian ciders, but do not be deceived. It is, in fact, a veritable parable of karmic justice, excellent husbanding (not to be confused with excellent husbandry, which is something farming-adjacent which I do not care to try and understand at this time) and aspirational duty free.

Some context, to begin with. I have been saying for some time now that Norway is possibly the country whose aspirational cider culture currently interests me the most. Certainly in terms of countries outside the UK, France, Spain, Germany and the USA. And the area of Norwegian cider that intrigues me the most of all is the region of Hardanger, around the Hardanger Fjord near the city of Bergen.

Not only does this region boast Norway’s most developed cider culture but, as we learned from Thomas Digervold recently, it even has its own Protected Designation of Origin: Sider frå Hardanger (Cider from Hardanger). It is a place of spectacular orchard views backdropped by mountains, cliffs and sparkling-blue sea. So you would think, were I to find myself in Bergen for a long weekend, that visits to these marvellous places would be uppermost on my itinerary. But there, my friends, you would be wrong.

You see Bergen has history where Caroline, my wife, is concerned. (Obviously Bergen has history in general, much of which involves burning down repeatedly, as a fantastic guide at the Bryggens Museum was at pains to tell us). But back in the days before we met, Caroline used to work on ships in the North Sea as a geophysical surveyor. And amidst much geophysical surveying and salty language and apparently table tennis (on a boat in the North Sea – yes, I know) she spent a lot of time docked in Norway and, particularly, Bergen.

Bergen, then, is a place of great emotional resonance to Caroline. A place she would go for long meandering wanders, getting deliberately lost. A place of fish markets and clubs in caves. A place where she once pottered back to her ship on Bergen dock after an evening in the pub and thought it was about time she gave its horn a good honk. (She avoided being caught, too, but just in case you were a Bergenite awoken by late-night nautical honking around 2014, apologies on her behalf).

So we’ve been saying we should go to Bergen for as long as we’ve been together, and our anniversary back in March seemed as good a time as any. And because I am an excellent husband – the type who might publicly share stories of late-night ship horn blasting, but at least tells you he’s going to beforehand – I didn’t so much as intimate that there might be a cidery or two worth poking a nose around during our limited Norwegian window. Wasn’t that good of me? On which note we shall politely ignore the 99% of other holidays I have absolutely hijacked for aspirational drinks tourism.

Anyway, Bergen was excellent, and I heartily recommend you visit. Aforementioned cave clubs, fish markets and museums aside, many fjords were goggled at, interesting trains ridden, old wooden buildings inspected and bodyweights in cinnamon buns consumed. And just as we thought the highs of the holiday were over, moseying back through Bergen airport, we encountered what must surely be the eighth wonder of the world: a Duty Free Aspirational Cider Section.

Alright, ‘section’ might be pushing it. There was a stand. Possibly two stands – I forget. But that still makes it a duty free stand or possibly two stands more than has ever been devoted to aspirational cider in this traveller’s limited mileage. Granted, there was the duo encountered at Bilbao Airport last year (I’ve just realised that I’m two for two on aspirational ciders encountered in airports on wedding anniversaries, but we’re honestly still filing that under ‘coincidence’) but they were very much there as a token add-on to a wine section. This was a proper, all-apple, proudly-showcased display of local Bergen produce, with no extra hold luggage required and no added weight to the suitcase. Glory hallelujah, what a time to be alive. Obviously I clanked all the way home.

No great takeaway from this episode other than to reflect on the disgraceful way that aspirational cider is treated in the UK by comparison; the outright contempt in which it is held – if it is even thought of at all – and the huge missed opportunity that represents. There aren’t many things at which we genuinely rub shoulders with the best in the world, but our full-juice cider is one of them, and good luck finding any of it at one of our airports. I’m not sure I have any answers – I’ve been doing this for over five years now, spent most of this year talking my way across the country; I’ve shoved cider-related content under the noses of wine drinkers and beer drinkers and whisky drinkers and sometimes, in more defeatist moments, I still struggle to see what difference it has all actually made.

But then you travel somewhere where the cider culture is so fledgling by comparison and you see that level of pride and craft and care not only acknowledged but put front and centre in a prominent place that visitors are almost certain to pass by, and you think: ‘yes. Maybe. One day.’ And you open up the word processor and you beat on against the current again.

In celebration of what Bergen airport has proven possible then, and the promotion of international  cider in general, a tasting of the bottles that flew home with me. Only a small cross-section of what was available, so if any generous soul is heading that way any time soon and is happy to do some mule-ing, pretty please let me know…

Most of the cideries behind today’s bottles were described in detail by Thomas here, so I’ll just dive straight in. Firstly with a pair from Alde – their classic ‘Sider’ and their Rosé. Both feature the same apple base – Discovery, Summerred, Aroma and Gravenstein – but the rosé also features raspberries. (I can’t see on their website whether they were co-fermented or whether raspberry juice was added latterly.) Anyway, both were fermented with pitched yeast and were force-carbonated – but so have been many ciders we’ve thoroughly enjoyed in these pages.

Alde Sider 2022 – review

How I served: Chilled

Appearance: Bright, light gold. Spritzy mousse

On the nose: Very fresh fruits and florals in character; sweeties, sherbet, blossom and pink-tinted fruit. Super clean and bright. Touches of cherry and strawberry – both in fresh fruit and slightly tuck-shop form. Very apple-forward; crisp and fresh. I’m only slightly familiar with Aroma, Gravenstein and Summerred, but I definitely feel I can sense the Discovery in this. That joyful, exuberant, crisply-pink fruit. Fresh, aromatic and very appealing.

In the mouth: Lots of clean, zingy acid leading to big notes of sherbet, strawberry laces and apple tangastics. The upfront fruit is fairly plump and juicy, with both red and green apple skins, a squeeze of lime and perhaps pineapple and a dab of well-balanced sweetness. Very tasty stuff.

In a nutshell: A super-refreshing, accessible and full-flavoured eating apple cider.

Alde Sider Rosé 2022 – review

How I served: Chilled

Appearance: A deep Spanish Rosado. Same fizz as previous.

On the nose: Yes, there’s a good whack of raspberry, but in tandem with the already red-blushed apple base there is also cherry, cassis, strawberry and a twist of herb. The apple isn’t entirely overwhelmed, even if all that redness is to the fore. Very alluring and summery, if not super-complex. 

In the mouth: A tale of two halves, both of them whistly-clean, flavoursome and appealing. Upfront it seems all about plump, juicy, sweetish raspberry – very tasty but seemingly perhaps a shade too dominant. Then, via a wild strawberry bridge, that malic base cider pulls us back into the tangfastic, sherbety, red-hued but distinctly apple-coded territory of its sibling.

Ina. nutshell: Very tasty. The all-apple is my preference, but this is a really lovely, super-refreshing fruited cider I could pour for virtually anyone.

Next cidery up is Edel, who again Thomas described in some detail here. Both the ciders in my glass are – I believe – different vintages, and where the first is a familiar blend of some of the same varieties as the Aldes, the second is a single variety Rubinstep – an apple completely new to me. The other key difference here is that the first is carbonated and the second is a pét nat. Here we go. [UPDATE: Edel have since got in touch and the Sider 2022 is not, in fact, carbonated, but is made with the charmat method, like Prosecco. So natural bubbles produced in tank.]

Edel Sider 2022 – review

How I served: Chilled

Appearance: Very pale straw, bright fizz

On the nose: Similarly clean, but higher in aromatic intensity. This tacks in a greener, leaner direction. Grass and gooseberries. Stems, seashells, green apple skins. A touch of savoury lees. Rain-washed stones. Rather Muscadet-ish, albeit perhaps with a little more inflection of sweetness. Or possibly another maritime white like Txakoli. Light but pretty.

In the mouth: Similarly Txakoli-esque here; that cool, fresh, not-quite-saline minerality with green fruit, green leaves, dough and a spritz of lemon. Nicely-weighted mousse that compliments the fruit character. Totally clean, very refreshing and delicate. Just a touch off-dry. That sherbety, green apple zing on the finish again.

In a nutshell: Ever so slightly simple, but very enjoyable. Another very tasty and well-made culinary apple cider.

Edel Pét Nat av Rubinstep 2021 – review

How I served: Chilled

Appearance: Similar colour, but hazier, with a livelier mousse.

On the nose: There’s a certain shared DNA with its stablemate, but here the savoury, leesy, slightly yeasty tones are dialled up a notch and the green fruit is pared back. A bit of playdough even. There’s an ever-so-slight note that feels almost acetic (just a touch – so little I’m almost uncertain) along the lines of certain Basque ciders that broadens the fruit, nudging citrus slightly in a more tropical direction, but also has the slight aroma-smudging impact that I’m not a great fan of. There’s lots going on, for sure, and I don’t necessarily dislike it. i’m not entirely sure where I stand with it all.

In the mouth: Same story here. Fuller and more complex than the standard Sider for sure, lots of lees character and a greater breadth of fruit that entwines nicely with the sourdough bread lees. Nice hints of pineapple and preserved lemon. But just a slight sour, acetic twinge that pulls it away from my personal preferences. 

In a nutshell: I massively admire that they’ve done something different, there’s nice breadth and complexity, and I think making ciders this way is absolutely the direction Norway’s cider industry should explore. Just a few notes in this one that I’m less keen on.

Two more ciders to go, each from a different cidery. The first, Aga, was – you guessed it – also detailed by Thomas. Their Lagmann cider is dedicated to powerful nobleman Sigurd Brynjulfsson, who alas was found in the nearby fjord 1303, short of a head. So there you have it. Anyway – two of the usual Norwegian suspect apples, Aroma and Discovery. Medium sweetness and (I suspect) carbonated again.

Aga Lagmann (no vintage stated) – review

How I served: Chilled

Appearance: Fizzy Chablis

On the nose: Another from the bright, clean, if slightly simple stable. This one actually feels a little more heavily-handled. Chaptalised? Given these apples, the stated ‘medium’ sweetness and the 7% ABV I wouldn’t be altogether surprised, but am happy to be corrected. Green apple, pear and white flowers are the theme, with a bit of loveheart sweets. Ever-so-slightly confected, being picky, and there’s a slight note of something faintly solventy in the background.

In the mouth: Pretty much a carbon copy. Apples, pears, blossom, touch of sweetness, Norwegian signature sherbet lemon and zippy, tangfastic acid on the finish. Again a little confected. There’s a bit of mustiness here too though, and that faint solventy character hasn’t quite disappeared.

In a nutshell: Some tasty moments, but it’s a little simple and there are a few rough edges. I’m less excited by this one, being honest.

Last up is a cider that has (sort of) featured in these pages before. Hardangergute Vindpust from Epli Sideri had the distinction of winning overall supreme champion at the International Cider Challenge in 2022, chaired by my Cider Review co-founder, James Finch, who rated the cider one of his picks of that year in our year-end roundup. He didn’t have a chance to write a full tasting note for it, and in any case was tasting a previous vintage. So today is still a debut of sorts, but one that comes with duly raised expectations.

Vindpust features a now well-trodden varietal path, being a blend of Discovery and Aroma. In the cluttered back of my dusty brain I feel like I heard around the time of its winning the award that there was a portion of fully-fermented ice cider in the cuvée, but I might have absolutely made that up. The website details are rather on the scant side, and I can’t find anything to confirm or deny online, so caveat emptor and all that.

Epli Sideri Hardangergutane Vindpust 2022 – review

How I served: Chilled

Appearance: Definitely darker than the others. Still gold, but a richer gold, nudging into copper. Similar mousse to previous.

On the nose: Follows the appearance – this is easily the deepest and richest aroma of the day so far. Although it follows a reddish, Discovery-esque, strawberries and raspberries and red apple path, everything’s deeper and riper and juicier and more luxurious altogether. Dired cranberries, slightly caramelised fruits. Apple pie, lightly spiced. This is an absolutely fantastic aroma – just broadening out what’s come before, whilst absolutely whistle-clean still.

In the mouth: Lovely delivery too. Follows the nose perfectly. That darker, richer fruit holds the acidity perfectly, whilst maintaining freshness, poise and zest. Wild strawberry, black cherry, tarte tatin, a little toffee apple. Cherry cola bottles. Dried apple slices. Some of that sherbet and tangfastic nature to the acidity and finish, but it’s beautifully integrated. This is ace. A really smart use of fruit. Reminds me of some of my favourite all-apple Pomologik creations.

In a nutshell: This is a brilliant and super-intelligent use of Norwegian fruit that shows it at its best and fullest whilst retaining hallmark cleanliness and zing. Buy it if you see it.

Conclusions

A fascinating exploration of a tremendously exciting cider region. It’s amazing to think that all six of these ciders were drawn from the same pool of just four varieties – although there were clear themes across the board, the differences between each one were stark and marked.

Themes, then. Acidity is one – no tannins here, of course. The ripeness of fruit in the best examples was fantastic, and I suspect the fjords themselves provide sterling service in this respect through their reflection of sunlight. I imagine that selection and fruit ripeness are critical elements in separating the good ciders and vintages from the great in Hardanger.

Cleanliness was another clear theme – almost everything here was absolutely pristine, pin-bright and laser-focussed on primary fruit aromatics, crispness and refreshment. I think that’s hugely to be commended and in many respects I’m put in mind of the perries of Austria’s Mostviertel, and many of the ciders I’ve tried from certain German producers. 

What I’d like to see now – as I would in those other countries, and indeed from many makers here in the UK – is a little more experimentation. Norway is obviously a fairly new region, and I think learning to walk before running in terms of yeast choices, approaches to fermentation and so on is entirely correct, especially in the context of the ciders their consumers are used to. But I’d love to see a little more in the way of wild yeast fermentation, methods of carbonation beyond force-carbonating, and a little less filtration and chaptalisation of the fruit. Even though the Edel Pét Nat didn’t quite land for me, I was delighted to taste something that was pushing the envelope a little. Ditto with the Vindpust, although in this instance it was one of my ciders of the year. Whatever they did to that, more of the same please.

Anyway – I pick nits – and dare say that the six bottlings I’ve tasted today represent only a slender snapshot of Norway’s total output. It’s likely (possibly certain) that everything I’ve asked for in the paragraph above is already happening both in the country in general and the other bottlings from the cideries I’ve tried today specifically. I suppose I’ll just have to find an excuse to go back and taste more. Great things are coming out of Norway. As you don’t even need to venture further than the airport to discover.