Mother, Maiden, Crone

Ferment / 30th January, 2014

Apples_etc_019Crones… the triple Goddess of Ciders. There’s really nothing quite like it (well, Mrs Forte may tiebreak it with Burrow Hill, but that’s another story), this megalithic brew really does the job. An organic pagan Norfolk beast crafted from the finest apples of albion.

It’s a crusty, clean your teeth, cleanse your gut kind of avalonian experience and all the better for it. As soon as you crack the bottle open the aura of the Bergholt Fairs hits you between the nostrils (or the smell of wet dog blankets as once noted). Remember to imbibe the sediment too, your Doctor will thank you and we’ll never need to eat Shreaded Wheat again. It comes in two strengths, the user-friendly maiden and her full fat ‘goodbye weekend’ evil brother.

The is real hairy Cider, all apple, no fizz and the three pronged crown of East Anglia. Somerset… never heard of it.

To Jung, the Crone was the primal grandmother, dominating the chthonic cults of antiquity. I couldn’t have put it better myself. Another pint? Oh go on then, you’ve twisted my arm, wassail!

CronesCrones is a rarity round these parts but I get mine from Rookery Farm in Tattingstone.

Do the right thing, just don’t plan too much tomorrow.

Posted by: Forte