Easy Apple Cider

A cell phone sits on a grey marble counter, surrounded by parsley, goat cheese, a banana, a wooden spoon, and some clear fluid that has also gotten on the phone screen. The screens shows a blog called Prententions. The recipe is for goat cheese and banana aspic.

August has rolled in, but its air is different this year. My skin feels the hint of chill, like something cold in the core of nature wants to erupt and spread over the earth. The sky doesn’t yet have that pure powder blue so prevalent during the fall and winter months, but my appetite is turning toward hot, mulled treats.

Apple cider is one of those chilly month drinks that I enjoy. Sadly, not a single jug is to be found in the stores in August. But recipes for every imaginable drink exists, so sweet apple cider need not be an unattainable dream in this cold-cored, still sweltering summer month.

Plus, it’s one of the ingredients I need for an upcoming recipe.

A Sweet Pea Chef’s Easy Hot Apple Cider Recipe was just the thing I need. All the ingredients are readily available year-round and I can simply dump everything in my poor, dusty slow cooker. Minimal preparation? You got my attention.

 

A small black Crockpot makes a cough in a cartoon speech balloon.

 

It had been so long since I last used this thing, it literally was dusty. Back in her early days, Black Betty mostly cooked meats in sauces. Nowadays when I use her, she mulls spices into my wine. Slow and steady, she’s never been in a rush to make a good dish.

Neither was I today, which was why I adapted this recipe for Betty. It’s only putting every ingredient into the pot and leaving it alone for several hours. But I also had to adapt it in another way:

 

The blogger's shadowy visage is somewhat visible in the glass top of the Crockpot. She waves to the viewer and says hi.

 

It’s a small Crock-Pot. At most, it feeds two to four people (who are on diets or have small stomachs). Every ingredient from the original recipe wasn’t going to fit, so I had to halve everything.

 

A spread of ingredients including allspice or nutmeg... or maybe the other pile is nutmeg... a cup of brown sugar, a single cinnamon stick, and some whole cloves.

 

A half of an apple flirts with half of an orange. The apple says, 'Hey, sweet thing.' The orange replies, 'Hi, [heart symbol].'

 

One quart of apple juice, 1/4 cup brown sugar, half an apple, half a naval orange, one teaspoon whole cloves, one cinnamon stick, 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg, and 1/4 teaspoon allspice. Perfect…

… almost. Another hitch came up when I was pouring the apple juice into the pot: an entire quart would have filled up to the rim. If I wanted to be lazy and heat up apple juice slow-ass style, this would have been perfect. But I had other ingredients going in, so I had to take out at least a cup of juice. Less juice meant more flavoring from the other stuff, which was fine by me. I like my fall/winter drinks to be super spiced.

Now to the other steps.

Carefully insert the whole cloves into the apple on both the flesh and skin sides. Pfft, this is a slow cooker I’m using. There’s no need for ceremony. We just dump everything in it and hope it comes out good.

 

The assortment of ingredients slowly boiling in the Crockpot. A handwritten caption from the blogger reads, 'It looked prettier in my mind.'

 

Look, if you want pretty pictures of food, visit any other food blog. If you want amateurish photos snapped on an iPod by a hobbyist klutzing around her kitchen, stay tuned.

Heat apple juice over medium heat in a large pot or dutch oven. Again, pfft.

Once heated, add the brown sugar and stir to dissolve. Betty had better dissolve that sugar on her own, or she’s gonna be replaced with a younger Crock-Pot model.

Add the remaining ingredients. Bring to a simmer and let simmer for 20 minutes. By this time, I’d already gone back upstairs to fall asleep to YouTube videos. My well-earned apple cider would be ready in six to eight hours.

 

The fruit has been cooked to pale shades and the cinnamon stick has unfurled. A handwritten caption reads, 'It smelled better than it looks.'

 

One luxurious nap and a couple of playlists later, I trotted downstairs to check on the cider. It sure looked good, even with the blanched apples. Then I lifted the lid—

D’aww, geez! That was pungent! So scentful, in fact, that the mister asked why the kitchen smelled like menthol. Maybe 1/4 teaspoon of cloves was too much. Maybe letting everything simmer for several hours was too much. After a few minutes, the pungence subsided, though hints of clove wafted here and there.

Now it was time for a taste test.

 

A glass yogurt container holds one-quarter of amber cider.

 

Mmm, clove-y. No, the clove wasn’t as overpowering as I’d feared, but it did make my tongue tingle a little. The sugar, nutmeg, and allspice combine beautifully to enhance the apple flavor. In fact, on the first sip, the insides of my cheeks felt like they “sparked” as my saliva glands reacted.

Maybe it’s the way I modified it, but I’d call this a sipping cider. It’s the kind of drink you pour into a mug, sit by a window, and marvel at the outdoors while you nurse your cider for an hour or so. A pleasant little treat. While I’ll be using part of it for an upcoming recipe, it’ll also serve as a preview for my favorite months.

Next time, though, I’m simmering it for twenty minutes in a regular pot.

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