bob's work here is done
Bob's work here is done! I call him Bob — Bob the Scratter. I've never thought to ask him for his name. After all, he's just a collection of cast iron plates, a few bolts, a shaft, blades and a great big cast iron flywheel with a crack handle. But seriously, it wouldn't be wise to mess with Bob. While cranking he'll take your fingers off. Drop him and you'll be short a toe or two.
Quite unlike the sharp white transparent apples that preceded them the queer little Devonshire quarrendens are more gentle; sweeter. Still, they share the same character of being unsuited to extended storage. On top of that, the DQs are too small to handle.
With apple fruit leather already banked I need another role for the DQ's. Enter Bob! Bob is half a team: one scratter and his partner the cider press. I'm not making cider, although in some parts apple juice is called cider. Around here cider is fermented apple juice. I could do that, except good cider comes from apples with a whole lot more character, more polyphenols, more tannins than there is in the DQ apples. So, as cider goes, these apples have been DQ'd — disqualified. Yes, I could have brewed cider then turned that to vinegar and I have in the past. It's useful later for pickling and so on. But I couldn't be bothered. I just wanted to get this done.
Nope, Bob is just giving he a hand to make apple juice. Recall that these apples were flowers in early October and here in January, about four months later they are delivering apple juice. Don't be misled. This isn't juice from which to ferment cider but that doesn't mean it is ordinary. In those few months these little apples have made juice which my refractomer measured at 10 per cent sugar; stored energy.
Keeping fermented juice is easy enough. This is different; it is fresh, fragile. The answer is easier than you think: beer bottles! Capped down and heated gently to pasteurise them they'll keep for ages. Thanks Bob!
bob's work here is done
Bob's work here is done! I call him Bob — Bob the Scratter. I've never thought to ask him for his name. After all, he's just a collection of cast iron plates, a few bolts, a shaft, blades and a great big cast iron flywheel with a crack handle. But seriously, it wouldn't be wise to mess with Bob. While cranking he'll take your fingers off. Drop him and you'll be short a toe or two.
Quite unlike the sharp white transparent apples that preceded them the queer little Devonshire quarrendens are more gentle; sweeter. Still, they share the same character of being unsuited to extended storage. On top of that, the DQs are too small to handle.
With apple fruit leather already banked I need another role for the DQ's. Enter Bob! Bob is half a team: one scratter and his partner the cider press. I'm not making cider, although in some parts apple juice is called cider. Around here cider is fermented apple juice. I could do that, except good cider comes from apples with a whole lot more character, more polyphenols, more tannins than there is in the DQ apples. So, as cider goes, these apples have been DQ'd — disqualified. Yes, I could have brewed cider then turned that to vinegar and I have in the past. It's useful later for pickling and so on. But I couldn't be bothered. I just wanted to get this done.
Nope, Bob is just giving he a hand to make apple juice. Recall that these apples were flowers in early October and here in January, about four months later they are delivering apple juice. Don't be misled. This isn't juice from which to ferment cider but that doesn't mean it is ordinary. In those few months these little apples have made juice which my refractomer measured at 10 per cent sugar; stored energy.
Keeping fermented juice is easy enough. This is different; it is fresh, fragile. The answer is easier than you think: beer bottles! Capped down and heated gently to pasteurise them they'll keep for ages. Thanks Bob!