November 30, 2007
November 23, 2007
Part 1: A bittersweet legacy
Journal entries from 1779 written by pioneers arriving in Ontario County noted they found apple trees that appeared to be 20 or 30 years old.
The trees — only crabapple were thought to be native — possibly came from seeds purchased by the Seneca from a military/trading outpost at Kanadesaga, near present-day Geneva.
Within several decades, orchards were everywhere. By mid-19th century, so were cider mills.
Only a fraction of the product of these mills was the sweet cider familiar to today’s upstate consumers. Without refrigeration, there was only one practical way to keep the cider.
“The easiest thing to do with fruit is let it ferment,” notes Edward Varno, executive director of the Ontario County Historical Society. That resulted in hard, alcoholic cider.
Such cider became a beverage as ubiquitous then as bottled water is now. It provided nourishment to families on the frontier tightening their belts in lean late winter. Even as hamlets and commerce spread, cash remained scarce, and hard cider became a key part of a barter economy.
“For a barn raising, you might set out a barrel of whiskey or cider and pay for your labor that way,” Varno said.
But within a few short decades, a darkness began falling over hard cider, and eventually its market died. Now, serious attempts are under way to revive consumer consciousness — and therein lies a tale of tolerance and intolerance, propaganda and marketing and, most of all, history and change.
The story of hard cider touches on upstate New York’s immigration trends, industrialization, the women’s rights movement and current demographics.
The latest chapter boasts an assortment of contemporary figures as colorful and diverse as any of those from previous centuries: a federal scientist who has traveled to some of the world’s most remote areas retrieving apple samples for a DNA bank in Geneva — sort of a reverse Johnny Appleseed whose Indiana Jones exploits include fleeing for his life from a pack of apple-coveting monkeys in Tibet … an entrepreneurial couple who discovered in western France that elixir loved and then forsaken by upstate New Yorkers except for a few scattered holdouts … a farmer down in Springwater who, just like his father before him, has each fall and winter been quietly making and barreling the best hard cider he knows how.
These and others will be profiled in Part II tomorrow. Suffice it to say that each one of them feels linked one way or another to the past through their love of orchards, apples and fine cider. That past, though, is not quite as romantic or bucolic as one might think.
According to Cornell University professor of horticulture Ian Merwin, the Northeast has “an ideal climate” for traditional hard-cider apples, which aren’t very tolerant of high temperatures. Historically, upstate has grown a wide variety of such apples — golden russets, King Davids, red ralls, Redfields, Roxbury russets, white Jerseys, zapatas. Bite into some of these varieties and you’ll dispel any notion that good-tasting apples make for good cider, or at least good hard cider — most of them are bitter.
Central Washington state might be more known for apples, but those are eating apples that can stand the hotter summers there. The old cider apples with their poetic names loved the soils and lake-cured climate of western New York. Even today, in a region where the vineyard is the new king, few rural properties in the Finger Lakes lack apple trees. You might have to look hard to find them: gnarled and twisty old survivors slowly being choked out by forest growth, but often colonizing themselves with offspring that, alas, seldom reach maturity because of bud-loving deer.
Nor do the old apple varieties survive in the wild, since apple trees don’t grow true to their seed but are subject to the vagaries of pollination — or to human-engineered grafting.
The Seneca apparently didn’t have that grafting skill, but the settlers did. Elegant, now-yellow maps from the 19th century showed orchards with each line of trees detailed, and those orchards were numerous. Around Canandaigua, they claimed the lakeshore. Where Sonnenberg Gardens is now, there was one. In fact, leaving town in any direction, one would soon be among orchards, the maps show.
“The farmer would put the barrel on a wagon, take it to Canandaigua, sell it in town,” Varno said.
In time, cider mills were “all over the place,” said Wilma Townsend, curator of the Ontario County Historical Society Museum in Canandaigua. Among the better-known ones were those on Dryer Road in Victor, at Wheeler Station in East Bloomfield, on Parrish Street in Canandaigua and alongside Flint Creek in Gorham.
In the old days, hard cider was one way to avoid what ailed you — “summer complaint” in the form of upset stomachs from consuming spoiled food or stagnant water. Refrigeration was unknown until the 1850s, when the well-to-do started using iceboxes. According to Townsend, it would be another 30 or 40 years before average families used them. In the interim, as far as apples, there were evaporators that dried them out for preserving, as well as canning and jelly-making. But fermenting apples remained the easiest, cheapest and arguably most recreational way to keep all that Vitamin A and Vitamin C in the house.
Too recreational, it turned out.
‘As savage as a bear’
By the early 1800s, alcoholism was a plague in semi-civilized western New York. Locally, cider wasn’t as high-octane as that made in New England, which had access to ports and hence cheap sugar from the West Indies that hiked the alcohol content of its cider. But naturally fermented cider, at 6 to 8 percent alcohol, has just slightly more potency than beer. With sugar rare on the frontier, farmers threw in all sorts of other glucose: molasses, limes and grapes or raisins. In deep winter, they would freeze their barrels, leaving only liquid alcohol to be siphoned out — applejack.
Then, as now, the ravages of drunkenness were twofold: social and economic. Kids were abused, women were brutalized, according to Townsend and Varno. As upstate’s agrarian economy shifted somewhat to manufacturing, men were expected to show up on time for work, but old habits died hard and the workplace was often short a man or two.
It was no surprise, then, that the two forces behind the temperance movement that reshaped the 19th and early 20th century were women and employers.
From a pamphlet on “the effects of ardent spirits” that was printed in 1827 in Canandaigua by Bemis, Moise and Ward publishers and authored by one Jonathan Kittredge: “While on earth, the victim of intemperance is as stupid as an ass, as ferocious as a tiger, as savage as a bear, as poisonous as the asp, as filthy as the swine, as fetid as a goat, and as malignant as a fiend.”
From the transcript of an 1833 case in Wayne County Court, in which a farmer is testifying against a member of a “family of drunkards” who were his neighbors: “He one day while at work in my father’s field, got quite drunk on a composition of cider, molasses and water. Finding his legs to refuse their office he leaned upon the fence and hung for sometime; at length recovering again, he fell to scuffling with one of the workmen, who tore his shirt nearly off from him. His wife who was at our house on a visit, appeared very much grieved at his conduct, and to protect his back from the rays of the sun, and conceal his nakedness, threw her shawl over his shoulders …”
The allegedly drunken young man was Joseph Smith Jr., who achieved fame for his prophecies that would lead to the founding of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and who, throughout his adult life, until his lynching while jailed, faced a variety of character allegations that are debated to this day. The testimony by the Manchester farmer may have been tempered by religious bias, but, at the least, he presented a generic picture of a blight of the times.
Looking back at the case 50 years later, local resident Ezra Pierce wrote: “Did young Joe drink? Everybody drank them times. … They would have it at huskings, and in the harvest field, and places of gathering; the Smiths did not drink more than others.”
In the 1830s, men in the fields might look up from their toil to the sight of a barge gliding by at a mule’s pace on the new Erie Canal, often with barrels of apples and cider piled high. Hundreds of vessels would pass every day — a parade of commerce no more notable then than the sight now from the freeway of a FedEx freight jet landing at the Rochester airport.
Within a few decades, that historic east-west canal route was commercially enhanced by new north-south railroads. It has been a long time since tracks ran through such communities as Naples, but in the mid-19th century, Naples was served with three trains a day, according to Varno.
Now being shipped in all directions, cider was king, but it wasn’t the only culprit in coarsening the lives of some of its imbibers. Even by the 1830s, it was starting to lose its dominance locally to wine and beer, while whiskey had always been in the background.
Just as sunny, south-facing slopes were ideal for orchards, the lakeside slopes of north-south running ridges proved hospitable for vineyards. And the Bristol Hills became recognized as one of the best places in the East to grow hops.
The Finger Lakes also had the other two key components for beer: plenty of grains and good water. With German immigrants starting to supplant the cider-swilling Anglos, a market for beer locally — 40,000 barrels by 1835 — was met by a pair of Scottish brothers, the McKechnies, in their Canandaigua brewery on Buffalo Street, in a building since converted to house the Daily Messenger.
The drinking wars hit full fury. Much of the furor was nuanced by class and ethnic distinctions. It seemed tolerable to the town-based Yankee power elite for German farmers or Irish canal-diggers to take to drink. But Anglos, seen as the heart of both the economy and respectable society, needed to be sober. In Canandaigua, pillars of the community such as philanthropist Mary Clark Thompson were leaders in the temperance movement. Local lore has it that she took psychic revenge on the McKechnies by converting the site of one of their former mansions to the first Thompson Hospital.
So cider was a top target. But was it the temperance movement that killed it off? Probably not. Historical records indicated that by the time Prohibition was finally enacted in 1919, hard cider was a commercial has-been, still widely available but not something people were willing to pay good money for. For decades, Coca-Cola had been available to the thirsty. By Prohibition, recreational-drinking tastes had shifted solidly to slightly fancier and more exotic beers and wines, and distilled spirits — local historian Varno notes that in time, next to nearly every sawmill or other source of surplus industrial heat came a distillery. (Home stills were more a Southern tradition, although not necessarily all that far south. The Whiskey Rebellion of the 1790s — an early test of the sovereignty of the new republic that violently pitted farmer/distillers against the tax collectors — raged just on the other side of the Alleghenies, in Pennsylvania.)
Reviving the taste for a truly native upstate drink is the quest of a western New York cadre of impassioned cidermakers — the subject of tomorrow’s story.
As one takes Route 89 south down the west side of Cayuga Lake, the vineyards and wineries unfold one after another. Just outside Trumansburg, up on a hillside, there’s yet another sign and a flapping flag proclaiming “Open.” At this particular member of the Cayuga Wine Trail, there are the big vats, the prerequisite tasting room, the bottles with their elegant labels.
Yet there isn’t a drop of wine on the place.
Hard cider is what Bill and Cheryl Barton make and sell at Bellwether Cidery — somewhere between 6,000 and 7,000 gallons a year. A bottle of their Original cider sells for $9.50. The label reads: “Leading the revival of an American tradition.”
Indeed, hard cider has been made in America since the 1600s. John Adams would have a tankard for breakfast, while Benjamin Franklin preferred his at a later hour. (Draw your own conclusions: Both men were industrious, but Franklin was said to be a more efficient worker, finding plenty of time to devote to play when work was done.)
Franklin may have developed his taste for really fine cider in France — that’s where the Bartons developed theirs. In America, hard cider was often homemade and inconsistent in quality, and it had faded from mainstream tastes by the 20th century.
Unlike most cidermakers, the Bartons did not start out making sweet, nonalcoholic cider — the basis of hard cider. Bill was a home brewer of beer. But the trip through the villages and lovely orchards of Normandy and Brittany was an epiphany. Back stateside, they eventually enlisted the aid of the late Bob Kime, a food scientist at Cornell University who, among other things such as beekeeping and vegetable growing, was an expert on cider apples.
So what the Bartons had going for themselves here upstate was a support system already in place for the wine industry — despite the mystique of wine-making, the basics are nearly identical to cider-making — including the neighborhood expertise of Cornell and the venerable, world-class State Agricultural Experiment Station one lake over, in Geneva. Also going for the Bartons and a handful of other upstate hard-cider revivalists is “an ideal climate” for growing cider apples, according to Cornell horticulture professor Ian Merwin.
What upstate New York doesn’t have going for it is what Cheryl Barton said they found in western France: “people who respected the tradition of the product.”
That presents a marketing problem.
Several years ago, a team of two Cornell economists wrote a research paper indicating a potential niche market could be developed for premium cider. But according to Merwin, hard cider is “a tough sell” to upstate consumers.
For starters, good cider isn’t all that cheap. It’s the end product of a labor-intensive process that, like fine wine, doesn’t lend itself to mass production. In fact, says Merwin bluntly, “it’s harder to make a good hard cider than a good wine.”
The problem is consistency. Every year’s harvest has different chemical characteristics, even within the same apple variety. This past dry summer, for example, resulted in particularly sweet apples. Like wine, variations in the fruit from year to year, or even month to month, are both a plus and a minus — and a headache either way. It’s nice to have annual variations, yet one needs a taste consumers can recognize. In other words, no matter what vintage, a Bourdeaux must taste like a Bourdeaux.
In cider, when it comes to variety vs. consistency, the Bartons strive for “a little bit of both,” Cheryl said. “With our Original cider, for example, we want people to recognize the taste but also appreciate the subtle differences from year to year.”
The Bartons see their cider as a product akin to wine or premium beer. And that’s the same marketing stance taken by the Finger Lakes’ other cidery, Eve’s, down the pike a bit in Ithaca, plus several wineries in the region that sell apple wine — which is hard cider whose alcohol content has been boosted by adding sugar. (Hard cider such as Bellwether’s is naturally fermented with only its own sugar content and is only slightly more alcoholic than beer. Another key distinction from apple wine and supermarket-brand hard ciders such as Woodchuck is that premium cider does not use apple concentrate.)
But working against that upscale image for the product is its past.
“Hard cider got a bad reputation historically,” said Merwin. “Uneven quality — the image of the farmer making it in his cellar.”
Which a lot of farmers still do, along with converted home brewers — such as Bill Barton once was — and other country people such as Tom Mitchell of Springwater for whom cidermaking is a family tradition.
Mitchell, 52, has been making hard cider ever since he was 18, using a different recipe than that of his late father, Herb. He waits two frosts before he picks his apples because lingering makes for a more sugary apple. He picks a lot of them, enough to make about 100 gallons in a typical year. No, he laughs, he doesn’t have a drinking problem, but he does have “a lot of friends, all the way to Rochester.”
But Mitchell is a piker compared to Gary Audey, whose unlikely day job involves working for Bethlehem Steel in Buffalo. In his spare time, Audey is a cidermaker’s cidermaker — a leading expert much in demand as a speaker at cider fests such as the one held every year in northern Massachusetts, part of a triangle involving southern Vermont and New Hampshire that is to New England and its “boutique” ciders what the Finger Lakes are to upstate wine.
Audey’s orchard in Erie County, interestingly enough, is on the site of a former vineyard. His thousand trees grow about 300 varieties of apples, and he also has a nursery for experimenting with new trees and graftings.
For all the hard work that goes into making a good cider, Audey is a firm believer that one has to start with the right blend of apple varieties. “There’s an old saying: Cider is really made in the orchard,” he said.
He has mixed feelings about the proliferation of apple wines (9 to 12 percent alcohol opposed to hard cider’s 6 to 8 percent) sold by wineries. “In my view, they’re looking for something to set them apart (from other wineries). They don’t have their own orchards but are buying juice that has already been pressed” elsewhere, he said.
The Bartons at Bellwether Cidery also take a purist’s view toward high-test cider such as apple wine or the sugar-boosted, 100-or-more proof cider fermenting in the barrels of some home cidermakers. Referring to the falling-over knockout power that some ciders can attain, Cheryl Barton said, “We want to express the fruit, not the dominoes.”
Nonetheless, “we started in the basement, too,” she freely admits, and she’s always willing to share information with others. Every year, the Bartons have a get-together with local cidermakers. One observation from these happy gatherings: “Some of the shyest cidermakers are some of the best,” she said.
Amateur and professional alike, the cidermakers stress it all starts in the orchard. “We want the apple to influence the cider,” said Barton.
A legendary figure whom many of them cite as the top apple guru in the region is Philip Forsline, whose resume reads more like that of Indiana Jones than what he is, a scientist for the U.S. Department of Agriculture, based at the Geneva Experiment Station.
Forsline is the go-to guy when serious cidermakers need serious advice about apple varieties and maybe even a scion — a cutting — or two from some heirloom variety to graft to their trees. After all, he is in charge of the world’s largest repository of apple varieties, which sits on 50 acres in Geneva and contains thousands of genetic strains that are carefully catalogued and preserved, two of each, in the event of who knows what — the two-of-each concept served Noah well.
When Forsline isn’t tending his super orchard, he’s out in the field as a sort of reverse Johnny Appleseed, collecting samples anywhere in the world where apples grow and bringing them back to Geneva. On one expedition, in Tibet, he and his comrades were confronted by a troop of apple-coveting monkeys, one of which ripped the backpack full of samples from his wife’s back. They fled for their lives.
A more recent trip was to the highlands of Kazakhstan, to a forest that grew at an elevation between 2,000 and 6,000 feet and had some wonderful apples that might have represented one of the fruit’s initial strains. “You’re seeing in that forest apples that look like they’re right out of a supermarket,” he marveled. “Big, healthy … genetically pure, the horticultural equivalent of finding the perfect man in the Garden of Eden.”
An interesting footnote: The forest’s climate was similar to that of upstate New York, only a bit harsher, Forsline said.
In fact, the experts seem to agree that upstate New York has everything it needs to establish a hard-cider industry — climate, support system, tradition, orchards — everything, that is, except consumer awareness. Only a scattering of liquor stores and restaurants carry hard cider.
Cheryl Barton has this suggestion: Stop by and see if you like hard cider, and if so, badger your local liquor store to carry it. Not exactly a sophisticated marketing campaign, but as Forsline discovered in Kazakhstan, everything has to start somewhere.
November 23, 2007
WONDERING just what to serve with that cauldron of eye of newt and toe of frog? Cider would be perfect.
“Halloween is a big holiday for us,” said George Zulkofske, owner of the Jericho Cider Mill on Route 106 here.
“People buy it for parties for kids and adults. We make cider from Sept. 15 to May 15, but most people drink it from now to Thanksgiving. Right now, it’s at its peak.”
An apple turned into cider is not very long off the tree, especially at this time of year. In autumn it may be just a matter of days from the picking to the pressing. The rich, brown, rather murky juice has all the apple’s delicious flavor, at once tart and sweet.
By late December the apples used for cider will increasingly be those retrieved from storage and the cider will be riper and sweeter, with less snap. The cider presses finally stop for the season in May. Cider is not made in warm weather: it ferments too readily.
Last week, on a morning when the bright sun could not quite chase a seasonal nip in the air, customers were lined up at the Jericho mill, which has been in business since 1910, to buy the fresh cider by the pint, quart, half gallon and gallon.
Large wooden bins containing a dozen kinds of apples for sale were arranged outside, as were piles of glowing pumpkins and pots of chrysanthemums.
The spicy, buttery aroma of baking drifted into the parking lot. “They’re making turnovers now,” Mr. Zulkofske said. He was monitoring a load of rough-skinned, ocher-colored russet apples, one of the best kinds for cider, as they went through the mill.
In the fall everyone jumps on the cider bandwagon. Even apple juice made from concentrate may display a seasonal cider label because there are no regulations governing what can be called cider. It’s often clear and very sweet and preferred by children.
Because young children consume the most apple juice, supermarket sales of clarified juice outpace the brown natural-style products by a wide margin. But in the fall there is plenty of real cider, full of old-fashioned flavor to meet the demand of an increasingly receptive market.
Gordon Crane, president of Apple & Eve , a company that sold $1 million worth of natural-style apple juice in 1978 and last year grossed $20 million, said: “Our business is built on the premise that there is a market for a natural unfiltered style of apple juice. It’s the same market the orange-juice people are going after with pulp in the juice.”
Mr. Zulkofske has been selling his cider to supermarkets like Pathmark, Finast and Food Emporium for about a decade.
From colonial times through the late 1800’s, there were cider mills in many communities in the Northeast. Historians note that prodigious quantities of hard cider, several gallons a day, were consumed by adults and children alike because water was not considered fit to drink and the climate not considered suitable for growing grapes or hops.
A colonial Massachusetts village of 40 families was said to have been supplied with 3,000 large barrels of hard cider for the winter. John Adams boasted that he downed a pitcher of hard cider before breakfast every morning.
Autumn apple festivals often include colonial beverages like warm, spiced mulled cider. Two were held this month, in the Brandywine region of Pennsylvania, at Chaddsford Winery, which makes an apple wine, and at the 18th-century Barnes-Brinton House in Chadds Ford.
As part of that event, Bettina Drake Maraldo, a quilt maker and a member of the Chadds Ford Historical Society, prepared a steamed cider pudding in the house’s fireplace.
Many old recipes for puddings, breads, cakes and pies call for cider. It’s worth remembering it for cooking as well as drinking: as a liquid, for example, to moisten the dressing for a Thanksgiving turkey; as a basting liquid for baking apples; as a substitute for milk or water in raisin bread; or, boiled down into syrup, as a delicious glaze for cakes.
Cider is also an excellent base for fall and winter drinks, whether nonalcoholic, like warmed spiced fresh cider, or seriously potent, like stone fence punch made with applejack.
At the Jericho mill last Wednesday the apples spilled out of a hopper and bumped down rollers to be rinsed; then they went up a conveyor to the second floor of the building where they were chopped into a thick brown substance.
That, in turn, was dropped back down through a chute into a large cylindrical wine press.
In the press the thick substance was mixed with sterilized rice hulls, enough to allow the juice to be squeezed out.
“Think of what might happen if you take a handful of apple sauce and tried to squeeze it through your fist,” Mr. Zulkofske said. “The apple sauce would just ooze out. But if you thicken the mixture enough, just the juice will be released.”
He said that in the past, the mill used a hydraulic press to extract juice from chopped apples on mats or screens. “It was impossible to screen the mats thoroughly and the cider did not keep as well without fermenting,” he added. “This system is much better.”
The press inflates a large rubber bladder inside it. The juice flows out through metal screens into a holding tank.
The cider is then pumped into a refrigerated tank from which it will be bottled. It is kept refrigerated and sold as soon as possible.
The cider is unpasteurized. Mr. Zulkofske said some batches are treated with a preservative, potassium sorbate, at the request of the Food Emporium chain and convenience stores.
The cider from this load of russets was for his friend Raymond Leborgne, who said he has been making sparkling hard cider as a hobby for more than 30 years.
“I first started making it for myself because it was the kind of cider called ‘cidre bouche’ I always drank when I was growing up in France and could never find here,” Mr. Leborgne said. “Most of what you buy here is pasteurized or has additives. Mine has none of that.”
Now that Mr. Leborgne, 64 years old, is retired from his job in the circulation department of Newsday, he has started making his sparkling hard cider commercially in his barn in Manorville, some 40 miles east of Jericho.
He is licensed by the state to make and sell it; because the alcohol content is 6 percent, less than the 7 percent minimum content for wine, he does not have to be registered with the Federal Government.
He takes sweet cider to its next logical stage, the kind of apple alcohol that is widely consumed in England and northern France and was once popular in this country. What is usually called cider in the United States today would be just apple juice in Europe.
“By the time Prohibition was over, everyone here forgot what cider was really supposed to be,” Mr. Leborgne said.
Mr. Leborgne transferred the cider to a dozen or so 50-gallon whisky barrels in his truck for the drive to his unheated Manorville barn. The cider will ferment, something it does quite readily, as anyone knows who has kept a jug of sweet cider too long and carbonation starts to set in.
Then, when the fermentation is complete, he will “rack” the cider, transferring it to other barrels to eliminate the sediment: “By spring the cider will become clear.” He bottles it in green champagne-style bottles with a simple metal cap. Over the summer it undergoes a natural second fermentation in the bottle, resulting in the clear golden sparkling cider he labels Crystal Manor.
The final step is to turn or “riddle” the bottles on a homemade rack so the sediment from the second fermentation settles in the neck of the bottle and can be easily removed. He wires on a plastic champagne cork and the sparkling cider is ready to drink.
“George’s father used to call me the champagne man,” he said with a smile.
Mr. Leborgne makes two kinds, a brut, which is dry but fruity, and a slightly sweeter but extremely palatable demi-sec.
They’re excellent to pour for Halloween celebrations and to serve with food, something other than a bubbling cauldron of gruel, thick and slab. For Dessert, Go Colonial Steamed Cider Pudding (Adapted from “Colonial Fireplace Cooking and Early American Recipes,” by Margaret Taylor Chalmers ( Shoestring Press , 1979) Total time: 2 1/2 hours Butter for greasing mold 3 cups plus 2 tablespoons flour plus flour for the mold 1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda 1 teaspoon cinnamon 3/4 teaspoon nutmeg 1/4 teaspoon allspice 3/4 teaspoon salt 1 cup dried currants 1/2 cup pitted chopped dates 1/2 cup raisins 2 large eggs 1/4 cup sugar 1/4 cup melted butter 1 cup molasses 1 cup hot fresh sweet cider Whipped cream or ice cream (optional).
1. Butter and flour a seven- to eight-cup pudding mold or a heat-proof metal, glass or pottery mixing bowl.
2. Mix the three cups of flour with the baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice and salt and set aside. Dust the currants, dates and raisins with the two tablespoons of flour and set aside.
3. Beat the eggs until thick and light. Gradually beat in the sugar. Add the melted butter and blend well. Stir in the molasses and the reserved flour mixture. Stir in the cider, then the reserved dried fruit.
4. Pour the batter into the prepared mold. Cover the mold with a lid or with wax paper or foil secured with string. Place the mold on a rack in a large pot. Add several inches of water to the pot, bring to a simmer, cover the pot and steam until the pudding is firm to the touch, about two hours. Add additional boiling water to the pot as needed. Remove the pudding from the pot and allow to cool on a rack for 15 minutes.
5. Unmold the pudding onto a serving dish and serve while still warm with whipped cream or ice cream if desired.
Yield: 12 servings. Cider’s Many Sweet Uses Apple juice: The fresh-pressed juice of the apple is usually called apple juice when it has been pasteurized and bottled. Most apple juice is also filtered to make it clear, but there are some unfiltered brands. Apple juice is also sold as a frozen concentrate.
There are some excellent imported apple juices, especially from England, like Sepham Farms, made from Bramley and Cox apples, and Copella, made from Cox orange pippins. These are usually sold in fancy food shops. The addition of ascorbic acid to these products keeps the color from darkening. The flavor is not as rich as American ciders, nor as sweet as American apple juice.
Sweet cider: Fresh unfermented apple cider is usually sold unfiltered and unpasteurized at farm stands. Supermarkets and convenience stores carry apple cider that is either flash-pasteurized or has small amounts of potassium sorbate or sodium benzoate added as a preservative to retard fermentation. Occasionally, filtered and pasteurized clear golden apple juice is sold as cider. There are also some brands of nonalcoholic sparkling apple cider like Martinelli and Alpenglow .
Hard cider: When fresh apple cider ferments, some or all the sugar turns to alcohol. Hard cider, which can be still or sparkling, usually has an alcohol content around 6 percent. Most of the hard cider sold in food shops and liquor stores comes from England and France. Crystal Manor , a champagne-style sparkling hard cider made on Long Island, is available in a few shops there, among them Blueberries, 1015 Oyster Bay Road, East Norwich; Greenvale Liquors, 330 Wheatley Plaza, Greenvale; and Post Liquors, 536 Jericho Turnpike, Syosset.
Apple wine: The difference between apple wine and hard cider is that the fermentation is usually controlled, using special yeasts instead of the natural yeast in the air, and additional sugar is often put in the juice to produce a wine that has a 10 to 12 percent alcohol content. Joseph Cerniglia makes excellent dry chardonnay-style varietal apple wines in Vermont. Chaddsford Winery in Chadds Ford, Pa., makes a sweet apple wine.
Applejack: Applejack is distilled hard cider. It can also be made at home by freezing hard cider and pouring off the portion that remains liquid. This is the alcohol, which will not freeze solid and has most of the flavor. In colonial days, it was made by leaving barrels of hard cider out in the snow and drawing off the unfrozen liquid.
A popular name for applejack is Jersey Lightning because of the reputation of the applejack made by Laird and Company, in Scobeyville, N.J. The company was founded by William Laird, a Scot who settled in Monmouth County in 1698. The first record the company has of commercial distillation of their applejack was in 1780, at the Colts Neck Inn, which it owned. It is believed that the liquor was made for sale long before.
In Prohibition, Laird and Company was granted Federal permission make apple brandy for medicinal purposes. Today, the company, which is still owned by the Laird family, makes 95 percent of the applejack sold in this country. It is a blend of applejack and grain neutral spirits, and it is harsher than Calvados.
Calvados: Aged apple brandy made in the Normandy region of France is called Calvados. The best is distilled from cider in pot stills in Pays-d’Auge, northwest France, and aged for many years in wood. The oldest is hors d’age (out of age). A shot of Calvados served in the middle of a dinner to revive the appetite and make room for more food is a trou Normand, or Norman hole.
Manipulative Extraterrestrials influenced Adolf Hitler, scholars suggest
Edited by Jane Davis
When Adolf Hitler spread his message of hatred, genocide, and oppression, as having been “inspired” by a blond race of superhuman warriors referred to as “Aryans”, it is assumed through historical accounts that this was simply the contrived mythology of a “madman”. These same accounts omit representation that Adolf Hilter was a member of demonic UFO cult worshipping cabals, and was an apparent UFO contactee, by the same Extraterrestrial group which Hilter sought to glorify. “The Nazis themselves claimed that an extraterrestrial society was the source of their ideology and the power behind their organization,” LINK. Nazi mysticism, indeed, was reportedly a direct product of cult worship to Manipulative Extraterrestrials. The “Nazis referred to their hidden extraterrestrial masters as underground “supermen.” Hitler believed in the “supermen” and claimed that he had once met one of them, as did other members of the Thule leadership.” LINK
Some reports also allege that Adolf Hitler escaped capture by the U.S. and its Allies with the assistance of Manipulative Extraterrestrials. Indeed historical records affirm that Hitler was never found by the Allies. His suicide was originally concocted to quell mass concern that such an individual could have escaped to pursue another World War. Indeed reports suggests that Nazis were preparing for World War III, before the dust hardly settled with their “temporary setback” of World War II defeat.
The Nazis said that their “supermen” resided beneath the Earth’s surface and were the creators of “the Aryan race”. Aryans therefore in Adolf Hitler’s reasoning, constituted the world’s only “pure” race and all other people were viewed as “inferior genetic mutations”. The Nazis under the reported guidance of Manipulative Extraterrestrials planned to “re-purify” humanity by committing genocide against anyone who was not an Aryan. Top Nazi leaders believed that the underground “supermen” would return to the surface of the Earth to rule it as soon as the Nazis began their racial purification program and established the Thousand Year Reich.
These Nazi beliefs are very similar to other religions apparently also guided by Manipulative Extraterrestrials that teach people to prepare for the future return of supernatural beings who will reign over a “Utopian Earth”. As in other such religions, the coming of the Nazi “supermen” would coincide with a great final “divine judgment.” Nazi mysticism indeed earned the support of Christian leaders, who shared what Gnostic referred to as influence by demonic consciousness linked to a “false God”.
Of the “divine judgment,” Hitler had declared in court during his early Nazi days:
The [Nazi] army we have formed is growing from day to day. I nourish the proud hope that one day the hour will come when these rough companies will grow into battalions, the battalions to regiments, the regiments to divisions, that the old cockade [ribbon or rosette worn on a hat as a badge] will be taken from the mud, that the old flags will wave again, that there will be a reconciliation at the last great divine judgment which we are prepared to face. LINK
Critical historical accounts have linked Adolf Hitler, and other high ranking Nazis as having communicated with self-anointed “Nordic gods” who were a part constituency of Manipulative Extraterrestrials which to Gnostics disciples of Jesus were identified as “demons.” This is where the “National Socialist” image of the ideal man/woman and the program of eugenics apparently originated. Adolf Hilter was apparently ordered to infiltrate the National Socialist German Workers Party; in order to counter anti-military sentiments of the defeated working class, into a populist movement which in turn would worship the demonic consciousnesses of Manipulative Extraterrestrials.
Though he lost the war, eventually, Manipulative Extraterrestrials apparently communicated with Nazis that “those chosen by Satan will follow with success in establishing a “Fourth Reich.” “Four” is the number of Satan/Enki. Hitler saw the ideal human in Satan and his demons who are of the extra-terrestrial race who looked like human beings with very tall statures, light blonde hair and blue eyes.”
Nazi technology is also alleged to have been disseminated under guidance by Manipulative Extraterrestrials. “…the Nazis had everything before any other country, they had radar in 1933, they had infra-red sensors, heavy water, etc., etc. We have been told lie after lie in terms of who invented these things. If anyone in the world had access to ‘alien’ technology it was the… ‘Aryans’ [Nazis].” LINK
Hitler did not really commit suicide as some official historical accounts have suggested
In 1952, Dwight D. Eisenhower said: “We have been unable to unearth one bit of tangible evidence of Hitler’s death. Many people believe that Hitler escaped from Berlin.” When President Truman asked Joseph Stalin at the Potsdam conference in 1945 whether or not Hitler was dead, Stalin replied bluntly, ‘No.’ Stalin’s top army officer, Marshall Gregory Zhukov, whose troops were the ones to occupy Berlin, flatly stated after a long thorough investigation in 1945: “We have found no corpse that could be Hitler’s.”
The chief of the U.S. trial counsel at Nuremberg, Thomas J. Dodd, said: “No one can say he is dead.” Major General Floyd Parks, who was commanding general of the U.S. sector in Berlin, stated for publication that he had been present when Marshall Zhukov described his entrance to Berlin, and Zhukov stated he believed Hitler might have escaped. Lt. Gen. Bedell Smith, Chief of Staff to Gen. Eisenhower in the European invasion and later Director of the CIA, stated publicly on Oct. 12, 1945, “No human being can say conclusively that Hitler is dead.” Col. W. J. Heimlich, former Chief, United States Intelligence, at Berlin, stated for publication that he was in charge of determining what had happened to Hitler and after a thorough investigation his report was: “There was no evidence beyond that of HEARSAY to support the THEORY of Hitler’s suicide.” He also stated, “On the basis of present evidence, no insurance company in America would pay a claim on Adolph Hitler.”
An article in November, 1949, says “The Nazis went underground, May 16, 1943!” and details an alleged meeting at the residence of Krupp von Bohlen-Halbach, the head of I. G. Farben and agents said that in the aftermath of World War II, Nazis gone underground were planning for “for WORLD WAR III.” Another article in August, 1952, entitled “HITLER DID NOT DIE,” subtitled “Adolph Hitler’s fake suicide in his Berlin Bunker now is exposed as History’s greatest hoax! Positive evidence comes to light that Hitler did not die — here’s new evidence that Hitler is alive, directing [the] Nazi underground, today!”
On a Canadian Broadcasting Corporation program called “As It Happens,” September 17th, 1974 at 7:15 p.m., a Prof. Dr. Ryder Saguenay, oral surgeon from the Dental Faculty of the University of California at Los Angeles, said that Hitler had ordered a special plane to leave from Berlin with all medical and dental records, especially X-rays, of all top Nazis for an unknown destination. He said that the dental records used to identify Hitler’s body were drawn from MEMORY by a dental assistant, who reportedly disappeared and was never found.
An editorial in “Zig Zag,” Santiago, Chile, January 16, 1948, STATES that on April 30th, 1945, Flight Captain Peter Baumgart took Adolf Hitler, his wife Eva Braun, as well as a few loyal friends by plane from Tempelhof Airport to Tondern in Denmark [still German controlled]. From Tondern, they took another plane to Kristiansund in Norway [also German controlled]. From there they joined a SUBMARINE convoy, [“U.F.O. Letzte Geheimwaffe des III Reiches,” Mattern, pp. 50-51] .
The Jewish writer Michael Bar-Zohar in “The Avengers,” p. 99, said: “In 1943 Admiral Doenitz had declared: “The German U-boat fleet is proud to have made an earthly paradise, an impregnable fortress for the Fuhrer, somewhere in the world.” He did not say in what part of the world it existed, but fairly obviously it was in South America.”
The German writer Mattern said that Admiral Doenitz told a graduating class of naval cadets in Kiel in 1944: “The German Navy has still a great role to play in the future. The German Navy knows all hiding places for the Navy to take the Fuhrer to, should the need arise. There he can prepare his last measures in complete quiet.” LINK
If one accepts the report that Nazi Germany as having been influenced by Manipulative Extraterrestrials, which reportedly have acquired access to technologies which have significantly lengthened their life spans, then it is plausible that indoctrinated followers of Manipulative Extraterrestrials may have been granted similar access to such advanced technologies. Such technological access would help Nazis realise their reportedly sought ambitions to seek to reclaim a global conquest in a sought World War III.
November 1, 2007
Many of us recall California Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger’s tragic buffoonery at the 2004 Republican National Convention in New York City.
Swept up by the pageantry of it the occasion, California’s governator led the delegates in a cheer as he exhorted them while also warning his television audience:
“Don’t be an economic girlie man! Four more years, four more years!”
How good it felt to the governator at the time. Times were good for him, he had been handpicked by the Enron team to stop a lawsuit from the state of California that Governor Gray Davis and Lieutenant Governor Cruz Bustamante were prepared to initiate against that corrupt corporation for ripping off the Golden State by generating an “energy crisis” and following it up with outrageous usurious costs.
A strategy was quickly developed by Enron in concert with the most perversely selfish of the corporate self interest brigade to recall Davis and install Schwarzenegger, with former California Governor Pete Wilson to help as the former bodybuilder-actor’s minder.
Arnold remained on great terms with Bush until his poll numbers sagged. In his last run for governor he cited a scheduling conflict that prevented him from attending a function at the Reagan Library in Simi Valley that Bush attended.
Despite Schwarzenegger’s glowing personal assurances that all was well that he delivered at the 2004 Republican Convention, his remarks boomeranged and bit him hard the other day as some 350,000 homes were being evacuated at the height of the blazing California wildfires.
Yes, Mr. Governator, in those heady days you were all for Bush and Cheney. There was that war in Iraq that many of us were fearful would never end as long as the neoconservatives were making policy and its impact generated with decisive impact in California the other day.
A major function of National Guard service is to render assistance when state tragedies occur. A tragic thing happened to the California National Guard when their numbers were sorely needed to help while fires raged.
Their numbers had cataclysmically shrunk. There were only 1,500 California National Guard members able to assist during a period of dire need.
So how many California National Guard members are in Iraq? They number 8,000, dwarfing that of those able to answer duty’s call in their home state while residences were going up in smoke and many residents of the affected areas needed to quickly escape to save their lives.
What will it be? Shall we continue to shell out tax dollars for more neoconservative “nation building” in an Iraq War cause that is hopeless? Shall we do so at the expense of ignoring in some cases and severely undercutting in others the nation’s major domestic needs?
The neoconservative wrecking crew of Cheney and Bush stand as rulers with a reverse Midas touch. Whether we deal with issues foreign or domestic calamity is the order of the day as lives are lost in a war launched on a tissue of lies, America roars toward the $10 trillion debt mark, the largest in the history of the planet, the dollar collapses on the world market, and increasing numbers of citizens lose their jobs to foreign outsourcing.
In conclusion, Mr. Governator, there is that matter of economic girlie men. Since you had the whole equation backwards does that ultimately make you the real economic girlie man?