Notes from Heart Rock Farm
Pressing through Autumn: Apple Adventures
By Amy Ludwig VanDerwater

One crisp September evening in 2005, Mark looked out at the many wild apple trees bordering our field and announced, “We should get a cider press. Don’t you think? It would be PERFECT with all of these wild apple trees we have around here!” I didn’t know if I thought we should have a cider press; I had never even seen a cider press before. But Mark usually has good ideas, so after he had made this proclamation eleven times, unbeknownst to him, I hopped on the internet for my first eBay search ever: “cider press.”

I was in luck. There was a cider press for sale that moment, and the bidding was almost over.  I could have a cider press RIGHT NOW. So I began my first bidding war for an antique cider press, whatever that was. Moment-to-moment, some stranger from Minnesota and I battled for the press. Bidding exceeded $1500, and I was right there, somehow caught up in the heat of the moment. I was winning. Mark would be so surprised. But when the bidding ended, I had lost. The museum dealer in Minnesota had cast a bid in the last twenty seconds, under the wire. I was sad.

But not too sad. Because never one to give up, I began searching online for new cider presses and ordered a double barrel press from Happy Valley Ranch within the hour. Along with it, I bought a book about making cider, an apple picking pole, and a kit to build a hopper-thing to dump the apples into. These all seemed like things that we would need, and now we’d be ready. It was a bit hasty, I admit now, but it was one of the best hasty decisions that I’ve ever made. It even came with a brass plate bearing our family’s name. Classy.

Today, our family’s autumn revolves around apples. Since the day that press arrived on our porch (all seven boxes of it), we have looked forward to fall and the smell and community of cider-making.

One of the beauties of cider is it is not at all fussy to make. You simply wash your apples, and toss them into the grinder. Then you remind children to keep their fingers out as one turns the wheel and others add apples. Just say “Remember, we don’t want bloody cider!” and let them crank away. Apples turn to mush in the cheesecloth-lined barrel below, and when it is full, you slide it over. Then, twist the iron wheel (you will feel like a ship captain) and it will press your ground apples into cider, pouring and dripping into a glass pitcher below.  Voila.  Pour everyone a glass and toast this lovely Western New York fall. Nearby sheep will be happy to eat the leftover pomace (apple pressings), and you can listen to them crunching in the background.

After making cider ourselves for one year, we decided not to hog the fun and began hosting an annual get-together: Ciderama. This apple fest has blossomed into a large-scale party with thirty bushels of mixed apples that we buy from Mrowka Farms in Lockport or Olin's Apple Farm in Castile. A variety of apples makes the best-tasting cider, we’ve learned. All of our friends (and some people we have never seen before in our lives) bring food and make cider to drink that day and to take home in the milk jugs they brought along. We get the grill going for hot cider, and many mix it with Spiced Captain Morgan to keep the chill away.

Usually a few teens join in, and they inevitably fall in love with the press and make more cider than anyone wants to drink or take home. Often they will make ten to twenty gallons of extra cider. But no worries; Mark hardens it off in the basement. He says this is his way of making sure I never leave him. It’s a treat to drink our own hard cider in the winter months, and we share it with our bravest friends.

Ciderama has become such a family tradition that after the first three years, six-year-old Henry asked us, “Is Ciderama a holiday?” To us it is.

After cleaning up from the party, we usually still have extra apples. And we have learned many ways to make use of them. We make cinnamon applesauce. We bought a dehydrator to make dried apples. Last year, Hope and Georgia sliced up apples each fall morning and we ran our dehydrator twenty-four hours a day. This year we plan to begin earlier because we ate those dried apples all up before snow even hit the air!

Last year, we even made apple doll heads with our 4-H club. Seeking a seasonal craft, we got busy and created all kinds of apple personalities using kitchen knives, the dehydrator, beads for eyes, watercolor paint for rosy cheeks, and wool from our Icelandics.

When I was a little girl, my mother packed a MacIntosh apple in my brown bag lunch each day. Now apples rule my autumn.  How could she have known?

Amy Ludwig VanDerwater is a writing teacher and children’s poet. She, her husband, and their three children moved to Holland’s hills from Snyder in order to explore rural riches and strange surprises. Their country adventures include collecting stray cats, transporting sheep in a minivan, collecting heart shaped rocks, and messing with mason jars. Issue to issue, Notes from Heart Rock Farm will chronicle these dirty and beautiful tales. You can read Amy’s daily children’s poem at her blog: www.poemfarm.blogspot.com.