Cider House Rules

A few weeks ago, our world came crashing down when, on a whim, we bought a half-gallon of apple cider from Three Springs Fruit Farm at Headhouse Square. Not sure why we bought this cider. We don’t even like apple cider. But it looked good, all dewy and tempting, alongside the bins of glossy red Galas and crisp Gingergolds. (This phenomenon often occurs at Headhouse Square; drunk on the sensory overload we buy things we don’t need—just like at Target.) When we got home, we thought what the hell, and tried a glass. And that’s when things got weird. Surely this was not apple cider the Three Springs farmers were selling. Where was syrupy sweetness? The metallic, lip-twisting clang on the finish? The viscous consistency. This was no apple cider we’d ever had before. It tasted, so purely, like apples.

Turns out, we likey apple cider! We’d just been drinking Drano all along! Excellent news, as we always kind of felt left out on the general weather-turning merriment surrounding the brew. When other kids would sip cider after frolicking in freshly raked piles of crimson and orange leaves, we’d be forced to resort to Sunny D. Here’s why Three Springs cider tastes so wonderfully appley: the elixir is crafted in small batches and flash-pasteurized with UV light instead of heat, which preserves the pureness of flavor. The shelf life is only 14 days—as if I would ever last more than three in our fridge. Pick up a jug at the Three Springs Table at Headhouse Square this Sunday.

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