Pumpkins for days


Congratulations, you're currently reading a blog written by Al Snape. I am the cider maker at Far From The Tree Cider and co-own the cider house with my wife.

I give out samples of my cider constantly, and today I'd like to offer you a sample of a blog I've been putting off for a year. The great thing about a sample is that it takes very little investment from both parties. So, here's you're 2 ounce plastic cup with a sip of my cider, let me know what you think:


The only thing I can think of right now is the cider house. I go there every moment I'm not busy doing something else, very often by myself, to attend to the most immediate matter that presents itself. It's akin to the romantic obsession thing that happens when you get a couple extra squirts of hormones in your brain during puberty. If something else isn't immediately requiring my attention, I'm thinking about it, talking about it or I'm there with my barrels of cider.

Today I need to get the 300 pounds of pumpkin my wife and I baked last night into used bourbon barrels, mix in some fresh cider and get it fermenting. I also need to arrange and position 60 barrels to receive the rest of the juice that will be coming in over the next month. Then there's the whole “How do we convert a slaughter house, now cider house, into a tasting room as fast as possible” thing. After that the list is infinite and I am the only author.

It's weird when you become your own author and your own boss, people start to quite often ask things like: “Have you been working a lot of hours?” Generally, I'm at a lost for words, really I don't have “hours” anymore and I don't mean that in the pompous sense, I mean it in the “lack of delineation between work and personal time” sense. It has nothing to do with the length of time I've clocked in, it has to do more with the choices I made that day and why I did what I did. How many hours did I work today? I've got no idea, I stopped keeping track 4 years ago but I did get to shove 300 pounds of mushed pumpkin into a bunghole.

Far From the Tree1 Comment