The house cider rules

Today, dear readers, I consider the issue of cider. It seems appropriate, as we stagger to the end of a glorious heat wave, to turn our thoughts to this most thirst-quenching of drinks. For the past few years, of course, cider has been quite the drink du jour, but with some excellent brands have emerged some real duds, and the marketing hype associated with some of the more prominent labels has been overpowering in the extreme.

It was, I suppose, Magners which revitalised the market which had previously been dominated by Strongbow and Dry Blackthorn (or, at the less salubrious end, Diamond White and Frosty Jack's), and in pure marketing terms I have to doff my cap to the C&C Group, the owners of Magners, for presenting an image of carefree sunny days in dappled apple orchards, allied to an easygoing Irish charm. The gimmick of serving it over ice was a clever one, and placed it firmly in the summer drink category. I confess that Magners is never more than a faute de mieux choice, if I am locked into a cider mood, and I find it a bit bland and tasteless. I don't have it with ice, either, as it should be cold anyway from the bottle or the tap, and the ice just leaves you with watery detritus at the end of the glass.

With the undoubted success of Magners, the venerable English company H.P. Bulmer fought back by marketing Bulmer's as a very similar product, also aimed at the served-over-ice aficionados. (Confusingly, Magners is sold in Ireland as Bulmer's; it is the same product, with almost-identical labels.) Bulmer's has also diversified, launching pear cider and No 17 cider, with the addition of crushed red berries and lime. I don't much care for these either, though the red apple edition which Bulmer's produced for a while was a toothsome novelty.

Then, of course, we have the Scandinavian invasion, in cider as in gloomy detective drama, with Rekorderlig and Kopparberg leading the charge. These two have played heavily on the different flavours available. I was for a time much taken by Rekorderlig (apparently to be pronounced Re-kor-DER-lig), and drank vats of the stuff, but I find it rather too sweet now. In small doses, the winter special, with vanilla and cinnamon, is very tasty (I have yet to try it warmed or mulled, but if 2012/13 is a cold winter, I can see possibilities), and the strawberry and lime edition is refreshing under the right circumstances. Both Rekorderlig and Kopparberg peddle pear ciders as well, but I cannot abide pears - a story for another day...

For real quality - and strength - however, the experienced cider drinker must adhere to traditional values. The two great names I am thinking of here are Westons and Thatchers, from the cider heartlands of Herefordshire and Somerset respectively. Both have excellent ranges, and, availability notwithstanding, make it unnecessary to look anywhere else. Westons Medium Dry is a deliciously crisp and tasty drink, and comes in at a decent 6.5% abv. The Vintage is a bulkier mouthful, at 8.2%, but has a wonderfully sweet and apply flavour, and I cannot recommend it highly enough. Then there are the still scrumpies, including the mighty Old Rosie, which, apart from their many other virtues, are available in 20-litre boxes, if you have the storage space.

In the Somerset corner, Thatcher Katy Single Variety is a truly lovely drink, light and dry and refreshing, of which a very attractive rose version is available. Thatchers Gold is a smooth and easy-drinking tipple, only 4.8% abc for those who fight shy of the heftier ciders. Like Westons, they produce a vintage (7.4%) which is a complex and bitter-sweet swallow, worth pairing with food.

I do not deny it. I am a cider fan. Many of you may be too. It is certainly true that the options available to cider-drinkers are so much wider than ten or fifteen years ago, when a can of Woodpecker was a titan in the cider landscape. My only plea is to look beyond the big commercial hitters. Go for strength in depth. The wide ranges produced by the apple growers of Herefordshire and the West Country are a paradise of earthly delights. If the summer returns - it certainly seems to be fading at the moment - go to your local off-licence, dig through the shelves and fridges, and stock up on some fine and refreshing drinks. You won't regret it. Until the morning after.

"Dapper" be damned?

I was reading this month's edition of GQ, today delivered on to my doormat, when I discovered an article about HRH The Prince of Wales. Now, that in itself is a cause for celebration: I think HRH one of the best-dressed figures in the public eye, and his championing of traditional British tailoring and craftsmanship is to be lauded.


So what, dear reader, caused me not only to pause, but to share my thoughts with the great ether-world? I shall tell you. The article described HRH as "dapper". I confess to this being a long-standing bugbear of mine. I don't like the word. I don't like its implications, or the inferences which people draw from it. And I don't think it should be pinned to HRH's (no doubt double-breasted) lapel.


Why? Well. Partly it is a matter of familiarity breeding contempt. Any man who takes care of his appearance and enjoys the occasional touch of flamboyance will rapidly used to being "complimented" on being "dapper". Some people seem to think it is some great catch-all term for being well-dressed and well-groomed, and that the recipient of their careless verbiage will beam with pride. Alas, not so.


I think I have two objections to the word "dapper". One is, perhaps, a personal kvetch: I just think it implies smallness of stature. How easily the words "a dapper little man" come together, with all the contemptuous damnation that the English language can put into the two commonplace words "little man". This is bad enough, but if, like your correspondent, one is of decent height, it seems doubly galling.


There is something more general, though, I think. "Dapper" implies a degree of smoothness, a sheen which is not wholly complimentary. It is a good long way along the road to "smarmy". There is something not quite right about the dapper man. Something, well, simply not U. When I think of "dapper", I think of David Suchet's Hercule Poirot, all glistening moustaches and foreign affectations. I think of John le Carré's Toby Esterhase, superficial charm hiding great weakness behind a dandified exterior. I think of Mad Men's Roger Sterling, a sybarite's hero in some ways but a bad man in many others; not the sort of fellow with whom you'd leave your niece.


Perhaps I'm being too pernickety (but I doubt it). "Dapper" is a loaded word. "Elegant" is fine. "Groomed" and "polished" are just about all right, though both have shades of meaning which can imply excessive effort. "Well-dressed" is definitely acceptably. But please, let's be careful when we use the D-word.

Cocktail of the week: The Sicilian Vesper

I do not, dear readers, regard myself as much of an experimenter when it comes to cocktails. I tend to stick to the classics – a martini, a Manhattan, an old-fashioned – and regard with suspicion and a healthy dose of contempt such abominations as the apple martini or the woo-woo. They seem to me to be the answer to a question no-one has asked, or, worse, alcohol delivery systems for those who don’t really enjoy drinking.

That said, if no-one ever innovated, we’d be left drinking moonshine from a mason jar, so from time to time I will break out. A conversation with a friend recently left me thinking that there should be a cocktail called a Sicilian Vesper (as any fule kno, the Sicilian Vespers is the name given to the outbreak of a rebellion in Sicily against French rule in 1282 – things kicked off at the Church of the Holy Spirit just outside Palermo at the beginning of Vespers). Now, a brief examination of the internet revealed several cocktails so named, mostly involving marsala. They sounded foul; blending marsala, poire Williams and sherry is not my idea of a good time. So it was time for some fresh thinking.

It seemed to me, mes braves, that a Sicilian Vesper should surely make some recognition of Ian Fleming’s famous Vesper cocktail as devised for Casino Royale. The idea of a gin and vodka mixture had to be central to it (as well as being a delicious combination). Clearly, though, there had to be some nod towards the island of Sicily itself, famous for, among other things, citrus fruit. What to do, what to do?

My eventual recipe was this. Take a generous measure of ice-cold gin (I keep mine in the freezer and made my martinis without ice; no dilution that way). As gin goes, Tanqueray Ten is my ideal, though I am currently using Beefeater 24. It has a nice orange tang to it, which suits this recipe very well. Add a similar amount of ice-cold vodka – I used Smirnoff Blue, but some people prefer Grey Goose (I can never get very excited about vodka). Absolut Citron would be another option to enhance the lemon aspect. Then, instead of vermouth, add a capful of limoncello, for sweetness but also tartness. What could be more Sicilian? Finally, add a dash of orange bitters (citrus again), then stir, and serve. You have a powerful but refreshing drink which I recommend to all. Excellent in all weathers, but I can see it becoming a staple as the summer comes along and the sun beats down upon us.

A coda to this; the inestimable Roxy Beaujolais has started serving a cocktail called a Soprano in the Seven Stars, which seems to me very similar: it is, I gather, vodka or gin, limoncello and angostura bitters. I have not tried one yet, though friends assure me that they are excellent and lethal. I make no claims to originality – not least because I am not so foolish as to cross Roxy – but I have arrived at a similar destination by different means. Let a thousand flowers bloom, eh?