Be honest, which of us (other than possibly Tom Oliver and Gabe Cook, and really I don’t think even they did) had ‘perry from Kevin Minchew’ on their bingo cards in the category of cider or perry likely to be the most hyped of 2024 at the start of the year? Certainly not me. And yet that is absolutely what it is – even drawing attention from august wine websites – and quite right too. We won’t see another release like The Last Hurrah 2001 Moorcroft again any time soon, and you should absolutely buy some if you haven’t already (The Cider Vault and The Cat in the Glass have it by the single bottle).

Kevin Minchew is a name from a different era of cider. This perry is the only one of his products I have ever covered, albeit two years ago, when I never expected it to be officially released. In fact it’s the only one of his that I’ve ever tasted. When Gabe gave me that bottle in 2022 it was a fulfilment of a long-term wish of mine to taste a Minchew cider or perry, having read them described glowingly by Pete Brown and Bill Bradshaw in World’s Best Ciders, but having personally arrived at this sort of cider and perry long after Kevin shut up shop commercially. I dare say that a large number of our readers also found their way to cider in the post-Minchew years, and I’m very pleased that The Last Hurrah has given us a chance to celebrate one of the greatest perrymakers in modern history.

I mention The Last Hurrah and Kevin Minchew in the preface to an article on a different maker entirely, because it makes me think of the past, and of the way the world of craft/aspirational/small/high juice content British cider has shifted over the eight or so years I’ve been involved in it. Arguably it was a shift that had already begun a couple of years beforehand, with the inception of Felix Nash’s Fine Cider Company in 2014. But to my mind the date that has always symbolised the point at which things changed irrevocably has been 2018, with the combination of the Rethink Cider Movement and the rise of online cider merchants in the form of Scrattings.

Let’s be unequivocal: cider’s march online and the (small, partial, niche and incomplete) attempts by a small number of makers to add high value perception to the ciders and perries they spend so much time and care producing are indisputably good things. To suggest otherwise is gatekeeping – both towards consumers who can now access a range of ciders from wherever they live in the UK far more easily than they could previously, and towards makers and orchardists whose work and care and fruit and products deserve the kind of remuneration from which their business becomes viable. 

In the last couple of months I have seen respected drinks writers with large readerships variously describe cider as ‘evil’, ‘simple’ and ‘vinegary’. I have seen wine writers condescend to it and beer writers question its right to be considered aspirational. No drinks are more disrespected, patronised, generalised about and miscellaneously dumped on from great and ignorant heights than cider or perry, and internal squabbles about how available they should be, how well-presented they should be, and whether £15 (pretty much the starting price for, eg, natural wine) is highfalutin, are an infuriating additional form of self-harm.

With all that said, it’s important to remember that the Rethink Cider movement didn’t spring from nowhere. Ross-on-Wye and Oliver’s, two of its most prominent pillars, were making phenomenal drinks for years – decades – before the rethink term was coined. Ditto Gregg’s Pit amongst many others, and of course ditto Kevin Minchew, who was making them long before this correspondent was even born.

In cider terms, as I’ve freely acknowledged, I’m a baby. I have only the scantest memory of pre-Rethink. I’ve happily done, and still do, my share of bothering makers and tramping round their cideries and orchards, but as a cider drinker, for the most part, I no longer need to. I can go online and buy a selection of wares from a selection of makers, and they’ll all arrive within a few days in one convenient box. This gate, as it were, is no longer attached to its hinges.

But once upon a time not so very long ago the opportunity to get to know makers, to delve deeply into cider and come to a decent understanding and experience of it, was harder won. CAMRA Festivals and a small handful of good pubs were the main opportunities to try several at once unless you could travel to their heartlands in west England, East Wales and elsewhere (not always easy without a car). This was the world of the Big Apple and Yew Tree Trials, of the formation of the Welsh Perry & Cider Society and the Three Counties Cider & Perry Association. Of the near-absolute primacy of bag-in-box, draught still cider. Of makers meeting in barns and kitchens, rather than at Salons and Conventions.

The thing is though, and it’s something I’m guilty of perhaps not acknowledging or touching on as much as I should, this isn’t a world that exists solely in the past tense. Indeed it isn’t even a world that the makers most buoyed by the Rethink Cider movement have quantitatively overtaken. As extensive as the pages of the online cider merchants now are (my mind is constantly boggled by The Cat in the Glass’s selection in particular) there are far more British cidermakers absent from them than there are present. 

It’s an astonishing and wonderful fact that there are quite literally hundreds of cidermakers in this country. Wherever you live (with perhaps the exception of those in the furthest-flung north), it’s likely there’s one within a fairly short drive of you. There are certainly a small clutch of makers in my neck of Berkshire, most of whom I’m guilty of not having featured in these pages for far too long and all of whom have been incredibly helpful and generous as I’ve undertaken my own first vintage as a producer this year. 

The majority of these makers, whether because of duty laws or because they simply don’t want to expand their business beyond a smaller-scale hobby or side-hustle, won’t be found on the digital pages of our Cat in the Glasses, Cider Vaults, Fine Cider Companies and Aebles. Rather they’re out at the farmers markets, the CAMRA Festivals, the peer-judged competitions, the Bath and Wests. Occasionally they’ll have their own websites, but more often than not they won’t be set up for ecommerce – these are people you need to follow on facebook, on instagram, or simply by old-fashioned word of mouth if you want to taste their ciders and perries.

It is worth the search. I’ve been lucky enough to judge the Yew Tree Trials as an interfering guest for the last few years, as well as the Bath and West for the last couple, and the Big Apple this year, and the number of makers whose wares I can’t buy online, but are absolutely delicious and frequently scoop up prizes grows year on year. People like Luke from Monkey Bridge, who won the dry category against 25-odd others at 2023’s Yew Tree Trials. Or Sam Everitt who was joint overall winner this year. Or Alistair Smith, who seems to be there or thereabouts in every perry category of every competition he enters every year. Or Rob Castle, whose stand at the Ross-on-Wye Festival is almost always the first I fling any of my cash at.

Or Phill Palmer of Palmer’s Upland Cyder, who is the actual subject of this week’s article, whose ciders you can’t buy anywhere online as far as I know, but whose recent award record is probably as good as any cidermaker’s in the country.

Phill has, unbelievably, won outright or joint best cidermaker at the Yew Tree Trials for the last three years in a row. First Prize and Reserve Champion for Sweet Cider plus First Prize for Medium and Bottle Fermented Cider at this year’s Three Counties Show, Champion Farmhouse Cider at this Year’s Bath & West. The list goes on (and on), but you’d get the point. You’d think that with that many Cider Certificates he’d have noticed by now that it’s meant to be spelt with an ‘i’, not a ‘y’. (I joke, I joke. Slyghtli…)

Though Phill makes his cider and perry across the border in Wales, mainly sourcing fruit from Monmouthshire and Powys, you’d struggle to find someone so wired into the fabric of Three Counties and West Country Cider and Perry. He’s a member of the WPCS and the TCCPA and whichever event I seem to go to, he’s more or less the first to arrive (though to be fair, so would I be if I had his awards record). He was the first maker I spoke to for information on the Welsh perry scene when it came to writing the book, and stands out even in the ever-remarked-upon friendliness of the cider scene. He’s also been making at one level or another since years before I wrote about cider or perry (the first award listed on his website is ‘Best Newcomer’ at the Welsh Perry and Cider Championships, 2009, but I know he was making for a while before that). All things considered, it’s long since time we covered him on Cider Review.

Thanks to a stall at the last Ross-on-Wye Festival, I have a small selection of Phill’s creations today, augmented by a venerable 2018 Betty Prosser of his that I found at Middle Farm (I think?) a few years ago, and has been waiting for this day ever since. Four perries and one cider, a mixture of blends and single varieties, none of which I’ve ever tasted prior to today. (I didn’t open any of Phill’s that I bought whilst I was actually at the festival because sometimes, and with some things, it’s permissible to be greedy).

First up is ‘Farmhouse Still’, a blend of many excellent varieties including (deep breath) Hellens Early, Potato Pear, Red Pear, Winnals Longdon, Moorcroft, Butt, Burgundy, Blakeney Red, Brandy, Thorn, Oldfield and Sack. Somewhat intriguingly, given the name of the perry, this was bottled under a cork and cage, and indeed there was a spritzy rush of mousse when I opened it. 

Palmers Upland Cyder Farmhouse Still Perry 2022 – review

How I served: Chilled

Appearance: Clear mid gold. Spritzy mousse

On the nose: Loely, bright, complex and fresh west British perry nose that cuts a swathe of minerally slate, green leaves, white flowers, light honeys and fresh-cut pear. A lovely glassful of springtime at this dark and chilly time of year. Delicate but aromatic.

In the mouth: Palate to match. Lovely blending here; the juicy, melony, fresh pear and apricot middle brightened and crisped with those sense of green leaf and minerality. Some lime gumminess of the fruit pastille persuasion. This is wonderfully bright and fresh and vivid. Just the lightest sparkle, which works perfectly well with the fruit. But I can see that the acidity would have made this a cracking still perry too.

In a nutshell: A delicious glassful of springtime fruit. Good old 2022.

Next up we have a single variety Thorn which very sadly, Phill tells me, came from trees which have been heavily hit by fireblight, the incurable bacterial disease that’s destroying more perry pear trees year on year. Do go back and read Laura’s article if you haven’t. The pears for this perry were pressed in 2023 and bottled with 10g of sugar and a little commercial yeast for a light secondary fermentation.

Palmers Upland Cyder Thorn Sparkling Perry 2023 – review

How I served: Chilled

Appearance: Hazy straw gold. Bright mousse.

On the nose: On the floral end of Thorn aromatics, which has been a theme of the 2023 Thorns I’ve tried generally, now I think of it. Slight elderflower, but also daisy, a little green nettle and a squeeze of lime juice. Being very picky there’s just a touch of peardrop acetone going on here, which pulls slightly away from the ‘Thorniness’, but not so much as to be more than a minor quibble.

In the mouth: Another palate that cleaves closely to the aromatics, though the creamy mousse seems to up the volume of everything. Green of nettle, dandelion stem and fresh lime entwines with white flowers, elderflower, honeysuckle. The peardrop is upped a bit too, but not so much that it hides the characteristics of Thorn. Just a little more than would be my preference personally.

In a nutshell: I prefer the Farmhouse Still, but this is a fresh and flavourful take on a variety I’m always delighted to see.

Back to blends again, and here we have an intriguing quartet of four ‘B’s – Brandy, Blakeney Red, Barnet and Butt – sourced over three vintages. Brandy, Blakeney and Barnet from 2021 and 2022 were blended with the same blend plus Butt from 2023. All the pears were picked from Sugar Loaf Hill near Abergavenny, hence the name. This one was bottled at Pershore College, filtered, carbonated and pasteurised.

Palmers Upland Cyder Sugar Loaf Perry – review

How I served: Chilled

Appearance: Lightly sparkling Chablis, very clear

On the nose: One of those confounding and beautiful perry pear noses that elude description by merely listing fruits. (Or, at least, fruits that I’m aware of). This is all woodland; petrichor, wet lichen, hedgerow leaf, pear skin. Wonderful, profound and harmonious aromatics that all seem to meld together perfectly. Really love this nose – wonder how it would have been without the pasteurisation.

In the mouth: This is fantastic blending, it really is. Light tannin and acidity so cohesive; supporting but never dominating. Really wine-like in body and weight of fruit, with gorgeous, pronounced flavours that speak of wet rocks, coastal walks, woodland rain and outdoor flavours besides that sneak past my feeble descriptive powers. Honestly I was less excited about this one, given filtration and pasteurisation, but it’s marvellous nonetheless. That’ll learn me.

In a nutshell: A fantastic, evocative drink that does what only perry can do. Stellar blending.

Last of our perries is a variety it’s always a pleasure to see – the rare Betty Prosser, and from the excellent and increasingly distant 2018 vintage, no less. The pears for this were picked by Kevin Garrod at Monnow Cider, from trees Phill hasn’t had access to since. (Though he tells me that this season he’s been able to get 90 litres from another tree he’s found near Abergavenny). This one was bottled pét nat at a gravity of 1.018, something I should have had in mind when I opened the bottle, as I had to be quite nippy on pouring it!

Palmers Upland Cyder Betty Prosser 2018 – review

How I served: Chilled

Appearance: Pearlescent Gold, lively mousse

On the nose: Betty Prosser, aged a few years, develops a wonderful richness, and this one from sun-filled 2018 has done exactly that. A riot of dried fruits – tangerine, apricot and mango – plus cinder toffee, passion fruit and vanilla. It’s a puddingy treat of a nose, yet balanced by fresher fruits and tropical flowers. Wonderful.

In the mouth: Even deeper, richer and more decadent in the mouth. Dundee Cake mix, freshly-made vanilla fudge, marzipan, dried tropical fruits and even some mature touches of leather. Sweet pastry and lots of frangipane. This reminds me a little of mature Domfront AOP, which I guess isn’t a surprise – I think Betty Prosser and Plant de Blanc have a good few similarities of characteristic. Rounded, medium in sweetness, with lashings of fruity honey and perfectly weighted fizz. One of my perries of the year, in a very good year of drinking perry.

In a nutshell: A fantastic variety drinking beautifully at six years young. Here’s to stellar mature perry.

Only one cider to taste today, but it’s a big one – a single variety Strawberry Norman Keeve that’s been sweeping up awards all over the shop this year. Phill kindly saved me one at the festival, when he’d had people buying them by the case. Strawberry Norman’s not an apple I can remember encountering as a single variety, though I believe there’s some in the Handsome Norman blend from Ross-on-Wye’s festival releases 2023.

Palmers Upland Cyder Keeved Special Reserve Strawberry Norman 2023 – review

How I served: Half an hour out of the fridge

Appearance: Fizzy apple syrup

On the nose: Smells like the platonic ideal of orchard-based decadence. Huge, ripe apple juice straight from the press. Thick cut orange marmalade. And then – and I swear I’m not being led by the name – the ripest, jammiest, juiciest crushed red and black berries I can remember smelling on an all-apple cider. A little woody spice adds an extra layer. God that’s sinfully wonderful.

In the mouth: See nose. Just the most gluttonous, indulgent, fruity mouthful of red berries – strawberry, raspberry – blackcurrant, apple juice, orange marmalade, nutmeg and cinnamon. This is how I always want keeves to present. What’s amazing is the freshness and vibrancy under such a weight of sugar and fruit that stops it from becoming heavy.

In a nutshell: Gorgeous, magnificent, indulgent keeved cider that richly merits its awards and deserves all the hype it can get.

Conclusions

A much overdue flight, but well worth the weight. Some absolute crackers in that lineup, and one or two that will give me serious pause for thought when I’m considering my favourite ciders and perries of 2024. I hope we’ll see Phill’s creations on our pages again soon.

To me, this flight is an important reminder that despite the changes we’ve seen in the last six years, British cider remains a many-headed creature that still can’t fully be compassed solely by browsing the internet. 

For all that I celebrate and have been the beneficiary of increased availability of cider and information, there remains a world to be explored beyond the pages of online retailers. It’s a world that was the decades-long crucible for the modern cider renaissance and features numerous makers every bit as talented as those who have become (within our small cider-drinker’s bubble) familiar household names. What’s more, it’s a world that I love and am privileged to be a very small part of. Here’s to a 2025 of festivals, competitions and seeking out cidermakers, wherever they are, besides those we’re privileged to find online.