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“Come on, Goldie, let me show you around.”
Inside the cidery, we walk to the wall where I have six stainless-steel fermentation vessels and a few smaller ones where we test out different flavors.
“It takes twelve to fifteen pounds of apples to make one gallon of cider. Fermented apple juice is called hard cider, while freshly pressed, non-alcoholic cider is called sweet cider. Currently, we have four standard flavors that come from Red Barn Orchard, and then we experiment with seasonal flavors to see how well they’re received by the public.”
“What made you want to start this venture in the first place?”
It’s a good question, one that I’ve been asked many times, and whereas my usual go-to answer is because I saw an opportunity, the unexpected need to tell her the truth instead spills out.
“When I was a kid, my mom used to bring me here for the donuts. She loved coming here. I don’t even know why, but she did. Truthfully, you can get cider donuts almost anywhere around here, but whatever it was, she just loved this place.”
“Your family vacationed here?”
“Yes, we have a lake home.”
“Who lives there now?”
“No one. It’s empty until my father or brother comes up to stay. Although lately, the visits have been less frequent, which is fine with me.”
She thinks about this.
“Where is your mom?”
“She passed away about three years ago from cancer.”
“I’m sorry.”
I shrug and let the grief of her memory wave through me.
“You bought this property and said to yourself, ‘Let’s make cider’?”
“Basically. I was walking through town, and for no reason, I stopped in front of the real estate agency next to the coffee shop to look at all the postings they had taped up on the inside of the window, and that’s when I saw the property was for sale. Like your house, the family who owned it had attempted to be a homesteader, but the couple couldn’t keep it anymore, and the adult kids didn’t want it. To this day, I’m not sure what came over me, but I walked into the office and made an offer. I couldn’t stomach the idea of them turning the mountain into another golf community.”
“When was this?”
“Five years ago.”
“So before your mom passed?”
“Yes.”
“I see.”
What does she see?
“Yep. I am the proud owner of one hundred and eighty acres, forty-five of which are a fruit orchard, and last year we added the pasture for some animals.”
“Did the previous owner make cider?”
“I’m sure they did, but they didn’t on the scale that we do and commercially sell it.”
“So you built this brewery?”
I move her along and take her to the back wall of the barn. Here, I have glass vessels showing off the color of a few different ciders in their fermenting process, as well as where we keep the kegs, bottles, and cans.
“Well, the barn was already here. I just painted it red, and we don’t brew anything. Brewing involves boiling or cooking. For example, to make beer, the ‘brewer’ steeps barley or wheat grains, which converts the starches into sugar. We are a cidery like wines are to wineries.”
“No cooking?”
