Can you imagine a world in which rogues in London would sell sparkling West Country cider as French champagne? Can you believe that some Devon cider-makers used to add mustard to their sparkling bottled products to give the drink an extra “bite” - or that most of the region’s cider producers used to burn sulphur or brimstone in their barrels in attempt to keep out microbes and other nasties?

All these dodgy things - and a great many weird and wonderful things besides - were going on in the region 120 years ago, according to a tome called A Book of the West published in 1899, written by that well known Devon scribe, the Reverend Sabine Baring-Gould. 

I did some homework and this led me to a cider-filled chapter Baring-Gould wrote on the town of Crediton in his excellent book. It’s a passage which reminds you that nothing in the world really changes…

“When there is a general cry for legislation to ameliorate in some way the condition of agriculture, it is a satisfaction to think that one act of Government has had a beneficial effect on the English farmer - if not throughout the land, at all events in the West of England and in other cider-making counties - and that act was the laying of heavy duty on foreign sparkling wines. 

“Quite as much champagne is drunk now as was before the duty was increased, but unless we are very much mistaken some of that champagne comes from the apple and not from the grape.”

The suspicious Sabine goes on: “A story is told that a gentleman the other day applied to a large apple-orchard farmer in the West of England for a hogshead or two of his sparkling cider. The farmer replied that he was very sorry not to be able to accommodate him as in previous years, but a certain London firm had taken his whole year’s ‘pounding’. He gave the name of the firm and assured his customer that he could get the cider from that house. 

“The gentleman applied, and received the answer: ‘Sir, We are not cider merchants. You have made some mistake. We are a firm of champagne-importing merchants from the celebrated vineyards of MM’.”

Today’s more discerning palettes would surely have detected the difference and questioned a so-called champagne made of apples instead of grapes.

Baring-Gould came to the following, rather philosophical conclusion: “Well, the money goes into English pockets - into those of the hardly-pressed and pinched English farmers. And cider is the most wholesome and sound of beverages. So all is well.”

But he also notes that the fruit of West Country orchards was finding its way into other products with labels that never mentioned the word ‘apple’. 

“Our dear old friend, the apple, not only serves as a kindly assistant to help out the supply of wine, but also forms the basis of a good many jams. With some assistance it is converted into raspberry and plum - but no inducement will persuade it to become strawberry.”

And what about this for a paragraph that, to some degree at least, reflects the modern day situation…

“For some 20 or 30 years the orchards were sadly neglected,” wrote Baring-Gould. “The old trees were not replaced, there was no pruning, no cleaning of the trunks, the cattle were turned into the orchard to gnaw and injure the bark and break down the branches, no dressing was given to the roots, and the pounding of apples was generally abandoned. 

“But thanks to the increased demand for cider—largely, no doubt, to be drunk as cider, also, it is more than suspected, to be drunk under another name—the farmers in Somersetshire, Devonshire, Hereford, and Worcestershire have begun to cultivate apple trees, and care for them, as a means of revenue.”

The “to be drunk under another name” reference today would not refer to champagne, of course - but it does register with the new trend for “flavoured” ciders which line the supermarket shelves, much to the despair of those who’d prefer to see the “real thing” than sugary alcoholic drinks laced with chemically formed berry juices. 

“In former days there were many more orchards than at present,” wrote the good reverend. “Every gentleman’s house, every farmhouse, had its well-stocked, carefully pruned orchard. Beer ran cider hard, and nearly beat it out of the field and overthrew the apple trees - but the trees are having their good times again.”

We’re talking about the champagne-like drink known as keeved cider - and it is a word Baring-Gould was using 120 years ago when describing the Devonshire cider-making process… 

“The cider as it flows away is received in ‘kieves’. No water whatever is added to the apples. What comes away is the pure unadulterated juice. When, however, the cider has been wholly pressed out, then it is customary to make a hole in the ‘cheese’ and pour in some water, which is left to be absorbed by the spongy matter. This is afterwards pressed out, and goes by the name of ‘beverage’. It is not regarded as cider. It is sharper in taste, and is appreciated by workmen.”

I’m not so sure it would be appreciated today. But then, Sabine writes: “Sweet cider is in far greater demand by the general public than that which is ‘rough’ - but a West Country labourer will hardly thank you for the cider that will be drunk with delight by the cockney.”

Apparently the farmworkers of Devon and Somerset preferred the kind of cider that takes the lining off the inside of your teeth. “The rougher the better, till it almost cuts the throat as it passes down,” wrote Baring-Gould.

He added: “Unless bottled, cider is difficult to preserve owing to the development of lactic acid. Moreover, in wood it turns dark in colour, and if allowed to stand becomes of an inky black, which is not inviting. This is due to having been in contact with iron.”

Black cider… No, not at all inviting. It’s no surprise that it is one of the old-fashioned processes that no one is keen to revive today. Rather like the one that called for the odd dead rat to be left in the brew in order to give the flavour a bit more heft. 

No, cider has come a very long way - and we should be proud and supportive of the high apple based drinks coming out of the West Country today, because there is always the danger that large companies will make further inroads into the artisan-style product, cutting costs as they go in a bid to nudge the smaller artisan producer out of the market place.