Oh cider. Like wine, I once disliked cider. Silly old me. I guess we’re all 5 once. Kidding.
My increasing verve for cider over the years made me long for having an actual scene in Alberta, which I suspect is in its fertile cesspool infancy. There are folks passionate about the stuff. There are folks learning and making the stuff. There a little pockets of cider peeps obsessed with crushing and pressing in the fall. There just aren’t any craft producers here. Yet.
Enter Merridale. They’re, oh, 1300km from my home, but the nearest craft cider gig. I dig what they do. Their ciders tend to flaunt lovely light tannins like one would see in the Old World. They do many bottlings of different styles. And you can’t get it here, because they sell out without distributing further than an hour away.
Their recently-won fight with law makers to create a reasonable environment for entrepreneurs to make a distilled cider brandy just makes me love them that much more deeply. Props.