Beer

By Bert Mattson

You can’t go home again. Thomas Wolfe solidified this sentiment in literature. It’s a caution against seeking solace in childhood places. Wolfe also wrote that all things on earth point home in October. (Taken together, these make wistful feelings seem inevitable.)

Personally, I begin to feel the pull of the needle come September. I suppose it could be social conditioning — the remnants of homecoming and that vague adolescent awareness of another year of permanent change. Whether that, or the natural gravitation of things, I do tend to contemplate home this time of year.

At my childhood home there was always an apple tree. There still is. On some subconscious level, September steers me to orchards. I’ve sat bouncing in a tractor-driven hay wagon eager to introduce my kids to the singular joy of pick-your-own apples … and wondering why. There’s something inextricable about Minnesota, September and apples to me. Odd considering that a century ago, there were questions about whether the crop could even tolerate our climate.

It sounds dramatic, but the pursuit of an apple that would grow here seems to have shaped our culture. Where one coast was obsessed with consistent yields of juice for bottling and the other with commercial varieties resistant to being bruised by shipping crates, flyover country was busy breeding new apples. The result is an incredible array of interesting apple cultivars. While none bear any visible resemblance to those dropping from the branches of my childhood tree, the flavor profiles coax out memories the way an old familiar song can. Each new cultivar somehow seems more authentic than anything I might have eaten back then.

Then in comes cider. There’s a confluence of the ingenuity of craft brewing and that of agriculture that compounds my sense that what’s old is new. While Minnesota may not boast the greatest volume when it comes to cider production, again we cut our own path.

Not that we haven’t got plenty of cideries. To be sure, you can visit a place like Keepsake Cidery in Dundas and soothe those nostalgic pangs for weekend day trips to the orchard. Cultivars at Keepsake are selected specifically for the cider press and given time and attention, yielding offerings that aficionados have put amongst the nation’s finest artisanal dry ciders. Styles range from the balanced, approachable Keepsake Medium to the dry, food-friendly Keepsake Wood Aged. See their social media for evidence of featured music, food and smiles on the faces of kids experiencing the farm.

An intriguing example of the confluence of local bounty, craftsmanship and cooperation is Tattersall Distilling’s Freewheeler Pommeau. Pommeau is an aperitif native to northwestern France that marries unfermented juice with apple brandy. Tattersall distills Social Cider Werks’ cider, blends it with the base cider made from local Harrelson, Honeycrisp and Sweet Tango apples, and puts it on oak. Paired with a plate of slices of those same apples and a view of my old tree, it reminded me that home might be better than I remember.

Bert Mattson is a chef and writer based in St. Paul. He is the manager of the iconic Mickey’s Diner. bertsbackburner.com