Mulled Cider!
A heavenly scent that's heaven sent to see me through the winter
I’m lucky enough to live in the heart of England’s Cider Belt: a glorious strip of land that runs from up the top of Herefordshire, down through God’s own counties and across Devon. With a warm maritime climate, rich soil and gentle hills, it’s the land of the apple tree, of mistletoe and, during the month of January, rather a lot of wassailing.
Having said that, I was, in fact standing in an orchard in Monmouthshire. In the middle of a large crowd of Mari Lwyds and Morris dancers in the freezing cold, noses dripping icicles, as we hung bits of toast in the branches and sang to bless and wake the trees. It was while I was catching a nose drip on some sliced white, that I caught the first wafts of warm cider. They tantalised and beckoned but with so many people milling about, standing tall in their pheasant feathered hats, breath steaming like old bullocks, it was hard to see where the smell was coming from.
Yet the call was insistent. Apples, cloves, nutmeg, cinnamon, star anise; heavenly spices, heaven sent. Like the best apple crumble ever calling my name. I politely elbowed my way through the herd, sniffing this way and that until there it was: a trestle table laden with huge steaming vats full of… mulled cider dregs.
The blighters had got there first and all I was left with was the smell. “Sorry, it’s all gone, dear,” someone said.
Oh no, it hadn’t. I could smell its breath. And if there is breath, there is life and as Cicero said “While there is life, there is hope”. I simply smiled and stuck my head in the pan and breathed in deeply.
Waes hael!
The proper response is usually ‘drinc hael’ but quite frankly, ‘sniff hael’ works just as well. The flavour is in the fragrance and the alcohol is in the steam. Proper job.
I love a good wassail. It’s what these winter months were made for. ‘Waes hael’ means ‘good health’ and that’s a lovely thing to say to someone. Sealing it with a sip of something is like a liquid amen: let it be so.
Right now, on these chilly damp nights, cider is perhaps my favourite liquid. Mulled cider doubly so. You don’t need a lot – just enough to fill a mug that you can warm your hands round and savour the steam. Just enough to share with your favourite apple tree as a thank you for last year and a polite request for a good harvest this year. Just enough to bless someone with ‘waes hael’.
It probably works just as well with mulled apple juice but I’m the granddaughter of a master cider maker. I don’t want him turning in his grave. He shares it with my grandmother and she deserves to rest in peace without him elbowing her in the ribs.
They say January is a long depressing month. February isn’t much better. But both months are so much more easily endured with those complex apple smells, with their hints of the past and promises for the future steaming, in the present, right up your nose.
The Smell of the Week: MULLED CIDER!