My brother and I were introduced to the liquid wonders of the apple by 
natural cider from the Cornell University Orchard.   After a family outing 
to collect drops (cheapest price) in the orchard, my mother always wanted to 
take home a couple of bottles of fresh cider.  Being an "expensive" treat, 
it was carefully rationed; but after a few unrefridgerated weeks, we kids 
would discover that the second bottle was happily right for a special tingle 
on the tongue and an embarrassed laugh from my father who didn't want us to 
know anything about the "evil of drink".   Generally, if my brother and I 
found it first in the new state, our parents would politely say that they 
would "take care of it" and it would disappear from sight.

For many years there was a ancient cider mill half way up West Hill on the 
way out of Ithaca.  A small industrial mill from the old days, its wooden 
floor emitted and odour only a cider mill knows.   When the shaggy mossed 
board building hanging on the edge of the steep bank below the old highway 
finally disappeared to development, my childhood self knew something was 
wrong in the world.   I loved the building, but I could never understand why 
anyone would have chosen to build on that impossible spot, especially 
because it was such a popular place with the tiny parking space filled and 
next to impossible to negotiate.   It seemed like a horse and buggy 
left-over, but why half way up and half way down that steep hill was a 
childhood mystery.   It was certainly among the most inexpensive properties 
in town and definitely on the "wrong" side of the tracks.   Always filled 
with large gritty faced older men, the implication seemed to be that there 
was something slightly criminal about the place, combined with being in a 
"bad" part of town.   My lily white family only went there when the Cornell 
Orchard shop had run out of cider, and if possible, my dad would make the 
trip alone.   When we kids were along, we were never allowed to linger in 
that picturesque antique place and look at the machinery or ask questions.

Any of you Ithaca "townies" know anything about it?

Here in the West, there is nothing that resembles the "Cider" of the East. 
The "Apple Juice" available everywhere is a bland stuff, and I don't mean 
just about the lack of alcohol.  The fresh pressed cider is just sweet apple 
juice with none of the fresh tang of cider.   Does it have to do with the 
apples or the process?


cp in bc
in orchard land but not cider land



----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Gabriel Orgrease" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Saturday, March 24, 2007 7:14 AM
Subject: Re: [BP] Grandma's alcohol condom


>
>>The Best Drink I Ever Had
>>
> LOL! Inadvertent fermentation must be nice like found art!
>
> ][<
>
> --
> To terminate puerile preservation prattling among pals and the
> uncoffee-ed, or to change your settings, go to:
> <http://listserv.icors.org/archives/bullamanka-pinheads.html>
> 

--
To terminate puerile preservation prattling among pals and the
uncoffee-ed, or to change your settings, go to:
<http://listserv.icors.org/archives/bullamanka-pinheads.html>