Apple Day

There are Apple Days being advertised here in West Dorset and, of course, just over the border in Somerset.

The tradition dates to 21 October 21 1990 when the first Apple Day was held in the old Apple Market in London’s Covent Garden, bringing fruit back there for the first time in 17 years.

The idea was developed by Dorset-based charity Common Ground, as a way of celebrating our most versatile fruit.

It’s a scrumptious time of year and sends me back to my childhood days when we had an orchard on the farm in South Somerset.

Most of the trees had been planted by my grandfather for cider, although there was the odd one or suitable for eating.

In the Second World War, the farm was a bit of a magnet for American soldiers keen on sampling the amber nectar.

In later years, when Grampa stopped making his own, the apples were sent to Perry’s Cider, at nearby Dowlish Wake.

If you’re ever down this way, it’s definitely worth visiting Perry’s. It has a small museum, cider tastings, a great cafe and a farm shop.

There is an orchard in my novel, Plashy Fen, next to a field where the three Symes brothers live in separate caravans. Dave goes rabbiting with his ferrets up on Bluebell Hill, Jacko is silent and bedbound and looked after by village heroine, Lindy Vickery. The eldest of the three, Tom Symes, is the nurturer of the apples.

Back in the Eighties, their father had resisted all attempts to grub out the orchard like the other farmers had done. People had laughed at their father then, calling him old-fashioned and lazy. Old-fashioned, maybe, but you could never call Adam Symes lazy. Just respectful of the old ways. And now people, new people, were emulating that approach to farming as if no one had ever thought of it before. Bloody blow-ins.

I’m grateful for the help of local cidermaker Nick Poole, who wrote a book with Liz Copas called The Lost Orchards: Rediscovering the Forgotten Cider Apple of Dorset.

Nick – who I’ve known for years – was so generous in sharing his knowledge and love of apples local to the West Dorset area. And he allowed me to use his own words – verbatim – to describe the apples that he – and Tom- love the most.

Here’s a passage from the novel, with Nick’s words incorporated:

One of the family’s favourites was the Symes Seedling, which Great-Grandpa had invented. Like a Tom Putt for cider making but closer to a King’s Favourite in shape, its skin a yellowish green with red streaks most dense around the stem.

Best of all, though, was Golden Ball. Tom always felt a bit bad for thinking that, as his loyalty should have been with the Symes Seedling. But there you were, there was no accounting for taste. Golden Ball was the stuff of legend, standing head and shoulders above all other apples known to mankind.  It was a properly handsome apple, changing through the season from dull greens to red flush, finally arriving in all its glory as a true golden orb with a delicate brown latticing by late October. It made excellent cider.

I’ve just picked up some cooking apples from the top of my village. Not scrumped, you understand, but to make the most of a box marked ‘FREE’.

Time to make apple crumble, I think.

Have a great weekend.

Love, Maddie x

It’s our wassail

It was down into Bridport today for the annual wassailing ceremony in the community orchard.

‘Wassailing? What’s that?’ a friend of mine said when she asked about my plans for the weekend.

So, stiltedly (because I wasn’t absolutely sure), I rambled on about blessing the cider apple trees and scaring away evil spirits to ensure a good crop later in the year.

I ought to know, being the daughter of many generations of Somerset farmers.

My father had a small orchard full of Tom Putt apples, Morgan Sweets and Dabinetts. There were other varieties, I’m sure, but these are the names I remember.

Small orchards were part and parcel of farming life for years, certainly in my part of south Somerset. My late grandfather was renowned for his cider. The American troops stationed locally during World War II were regular callers to Grandpa’s Saloon.

But then cider fell rather drunkenly off the wagon and the small orchards were scrubbed out. It took enthusiasts like Nick Poole of West Milton Cider in Dorset for the amber nectar to regain its popularity.

He and pomologist Liz Copas hunted down long-forgotten cider apple varieties and wrote a book, The Lost Orchards: rediscovering the forgotten cider apples of Dorset. It’s a fascinating journey of discovery and, as publishers Little Toller Books say: ‘This hopeful story will resonate widely and inspire others around the country – and around the world – to look closely at their surroundings and take steps to rediscover, celebrate and conserve the orchards that make their locality special.’

These days, as well as the big producers, there are hundreds of makers across the country crafting exceptionally good cider, and, quite rightly, the distinctive drink has a new fan base.

Today, in Bridport’s community orchard, there were morris dancers, mulled cider, storytelling and the biggest audience yet for the annual event, who joined in the wassailing songs to promote a good harvest for the coming year.

The Dorset Ooser also made an appearance but, luckily, there were so many people gathered around that my two-year-old grandson didn’t spot this terrifying creature from local folklore.

The wassailers didn’t sing this one, which is not surprising as Bridport is in Dorset. However, it’s the only such song I know, so here you go:

Here’s to a great week.

That’s about it.

Love, Maddie x