Cider — official drink of Thanksgiving?
For most families, the holiday menu is set in stone, with idiosyncratic food traditions that are practically sacred.
The complicated part of planning has always been deciding what to drink, something people seem to start worrying about weeks in advance. I’m a staunch believer in drinking American, and wine has always been my go-to choice, with bottles of the latest craft beers thrown in for those who shun the grape.
This year, though, I’m taking the American theme even further and embracing cider, which dates back to the Mayflower, which carried a cider press and apple seeds to the New World. New York’s first apple tree was planted by its last Dutch administrator, Peter Stuyvesant, at the corner of what is now Third Avenue and 13th Street.
Happily, the cider revival that started a decade or so ago (sales are up 500 percent since 2011) means there are more stellar, sophisticated examples than ever. They come from more than 1,000 cideries in just about every state, according to Michelle McGrath, executive director of the U.S. Cider Association, so the drink really does reflect our country’s diversity.
True cider isn’t that sweet, pasteurized stuff that comes in jugs sold in supermarket vegetable aisles. The real stuff has alcohol. Real cider is made from fermented fruit juice, just as wine is, and has similar dimensions of acidity, tannin, sweetness and body. It comes in a wide variety of styles, from sparkling to sweet. As with grapes, apple varieties number in the thousands, each offering different taste nuances.
And cider fulfills my main Thanksgiving drink requirement, big time: versatility. Easygoing, crisp, fruity, with little tannin or oak, it complements everything from the complex savory flavors and rich textures of stuffing to the tart-sweet bite of cranberry sauce, earthy yams, salty gravy and, of course, the turkey. Cider also has enough refreshing acidity to perk up palates through an entire day of cooking, greeting, eating, and watching football. Many are effervescent, which adds to the atmosphere of celebration.
Then there’s the added attraction of lower alcohol. Most ciders, whether sparkling or still, are about 6 to 8 percent alcohol by volume, about half that of wine. (That’s even more important in a high-politics year, when you’re trying to avoid the kind of arguments that arise after everyone has downed too much booze.)
Oh, and did I mention that cider, unlike beer, is gluten-free?
The difficulty in picking ciders is navigating the flavor-style spectrum, which ranges from bone-dry to super sweet and from funky rustic to so elegant it could almost be mistaken for white wine.
And as with wine, a cider’s taste depends heavily on the apple varieties used. The most interesting ones are made by small farms from blends of historic varieties classified as bittersweet or bitter-sharp, meaning they’re unpleasant to eat, with names you’ve probably never heard of, such as Esopus Spitzenburg.
Modern cider makers are also experimenting with single varietal cuvees, fermenting with wild yeasts, barrel aging and wine-cider blends, and adding hops and other flavors such as maple syrup, mint and even jalapeños. Some are jumping on the rosé bandwagon by using red-fleshed apples.
When it comes to price, don’t expect these artisanal ciders to be cheap. A 500 ml bottle of Aaron Burr’s Malus Baccata will set you back $130 because it’s rare. Maker Andy Brennan spent several years foraging wild Siberian Crab apples, and it takes 10,000 of these peasized fruits to make a single bottle. Fortunately, most artisan ciders cost less than $25 for a 500 ml bottle.
Angry Orchard, produced by the Boston Beer Co., makers of the ubiquitous Sam Adams beer and Truly hard seltzer, is one of the most widely available big brands. The company’s ciders aren’t for artisanal purists, but the annual Walden Hollow release may surprise you.
As for serving, don’t chill ciders too much, or you’ll mask their aromas and flavors. Also, pour into tulip-shaped wine glasses for the best effect.