Is Cider a Wine?

 

  I recently read an interesting article in Malus Magazine claiming cider is NOT wine, and to think so is detrimental to cider's development. Point taken, sort of. 

  I couldn't agree more about the limitations the "wine" label brings to consumer minds. I especially agree with the author that "cider" liberates producers more than wine does due to the general confusion of where cider is as a category (she used the word "anarchy" to describe this current state), but the author primarily focused on man-made distinctions between cider and wine (words, categories, and market impressions), when, in the end, the two are fundamentally 99% similar. The botanical difference between trees and vines is an interesting one, and worthy of further dissection, but as a drink producer I approach both wine and cider without any real difference. Sure, you can argue the minutia of their differences -- the acids, sugars, esters, etc. -- but there is something far greater that unifies the two drinks: the goal. With both wine and cider, we want to represent the land, we "step back" and let Nature do its thing (rather than taking charge with, for instance: brewing, distilling, or "cheffing" the ingredients.)   

  Even if you want to focus on just the market distinctions (entirely manmade distinctions) and you want to praise cider for i's liberties there; the fact is, a wine maker could be just as free to explore the grape. A wine maker could, for instance, allow for true-terroir* (instead of soil-amended terroir); They could allow for the natural gene expression of grapes; Or they could explore the vine's feral process and "real-world" acclimation. These are issues that some of us are free to explore with cider but no one's stopping a wine maker from doing the same. 

  Plus, wine makers are free to explore co-fermentations (with different fruit) and free to get weird with lab-concoctions too (keaving, "flaw" additions, etc.) as a cider-maker does. Yes, the winemaker would have to forgo the established wine-market lingo (a decision that'd severely limit them economically), but, again, these are only man-made limitations. The only real difference between cider and wine comes down to the nature of the apple versus the grape, which again, share the grander goal of location expression.   

   Ultimately, to label anything is a man-made invention. Words represent our best effort to encapsulate reality for the purpose of communication. They're pods of meaning but they're an artifice, they don't actually embody the reality they're supposedly attached to (don't make me bring up Duchamp or Magritte's Key of Dreams.) Applied to "cider" and "wine", the definitions are literally different but both spark conversations about our place in Nature, our understanding of it, and our ability to MANipulate it to serve our desires. At best, we'll put words to these things and hope the person we're talking to is on the same page, but in the end, no one can definitively understand another's reality. 

  Let's not obsess on linguistics or philosophically, the Western understanding of reality, but let's just agree that we could literally (and I mean literally) interchange "cider" and "wine" if we want to. Neither word exists in Nature, but we're putting them there and appropriately arguing the meaning. Like with any word, its a tug-of-war, and professional marketing is free to MANipulate too. It can be frustrating, but it could also be liberating. I prefer to revel in the freedoms, and if possible, fight for more!  

  So, to sum up my opinion: Both cider and wine have the capacity to explore man-made inventions but more importantly, they could be united by the larger goal of allowing Nature to express itself. I say, follow this rabbit and don't limit oneself by the artifice of capsules or classifications. Lable it "cider" or "wine", I don't care, because to me, they're interchangeable. Just be honest about additions or MANipulations (ask producers to disclose this) but in the end, each of us has the responsibility of direct experience. We create our own meaning of life, which is a good thing, and we should be on guard for when artifice substitutes for it.  

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 BTW, I believe I've done exactly what the Malus author is advocating for. More than most, I've taken great advantage of the liberties of "cider," as a distinct category. This anarchy steered me to "co-ferment" long before it was even a term; It's allowed me to be a "natural" producer ("natural wine" was more fringe back then); and it's allowed me to bottle "pet-nat" before the word was common in the marketplace (actually, I call my ciders "undisgorged" and not "pet-nat" to skirt the attempt to encapsulate real reality within the box of market reality. Plus, I bottle way later than most pet-nat producers.)
The MOST important freedom "cider" has given me, however, was its complete absence of a "terroir" conversation. This allowed me to explore its depths way (WAY) beyond the parameters of viniculture's encapsulated meaning. My mission, if anything, has been to expose how MANipulated farm environments and species are. (*That's why I use my own term, "locational," believing true terroir is incompatible with soil amendments, sprays and irrigation and cloning. I emphasize this by foraging and separating the locations.)

Apple 101 to 401 (or, How the Basic Properties of Apples Inevitably Leads Us to Advanced Anthropology, Ecology and Philosophical Conjecture)

The first thing to say about apple trees is that they’re not from around here. 

Seeds were first brought over from the “old world” in the early 1600s when European settlers began setting-up shop in the Americas. From the east coast, the apple tree made its way west in the 1800s. Western New York, Michigan, and now, Washington became the U.S.'s largest apple producer. From there, the apple even hopped the vast Pacific Ocean to Japan (Fuji apple), Australia (Granny Smith) and New Zealand (Gala apple) were born from European/American apple lineage. 

But the apple isn’t from Europe either, although genetically, Malus Domestica (the scientific name for the common eating apple) does have some European crabapple in it. The "domesticated apple" is thought to descend predominantly from Malus Sieversii, the baseball-sized apple still growing wild in Central Asia. It was by way of ancient trade routes, such as the Silk Road, that Sieversii genes spread east to west, all way between China to Portugal.  Western Europeans brought it further west, across the Atlantic, and then it even hopped the vast Pacific Ocean to Japan, Australia, and New Zealand, where the likes of the Fuji apple, Granny Smith, and Gala (respectively) were born from European and/or American apple lineage. 

So right off the bat, we are talking about a successful globe trotter, which is important to remember about apples. Malus Domestica has thrived under modern transportation, and it now grows as far north as Alaska and Iceland, as far south as Patagonia and South Africa, and it succeeds anywhere there's cool temperatures for a few nights each year. In fact, apple trees exist in parts of Florida, Thailand and even Bermuda! But the MOST important thing to say about apples is that they're extreme heterozygotes. The reason why Malus has succeeded throughout the planet has to ALL do with this very unique genetic talent. 

Being an extreme heterozygote, the apple tree will never grow true to its seed, just like a human, which has half the number of genes of Malus Domestica. The point of this massive DNA bank is to form new combinations which are designed to test compatibility with different climates and terrains. They also possess an intelligence that allows them to acclimate and adapt to real-time environmental changes. Proof of this is evident in their biennial fruiting pattern. Ferral Malus Domestica, and even MANipulated orchard trees have the ability to read the ecosystem and participate in forest-wide mast years (sometimes known as "bumper crops.") Epigeneticists, the scientists who study adaptive genetics, are only now scratching the surface of Malus Domestica and discovering what the ancients have always know: This is the tree of wisdom.  

"But humans are intelligent too," you say. Well, that may be true but take a closer look at Malus and you'll discover that the genus possesses an intelligence that Homo Sapien do not (not modern, "Western" Man, at least.) For one, they always blend in with environments as they travel the world. They read the pre-existing cultures and know how to co-exist in peace (they participate, not destroy.) We, on the other hand, compete with "what is" and then we out-muscle the other species. We even eradicate other human cultures if they threaten to live in harmony with the landscape! If feeling at peace with the planet is more intelligent than feeling against it, than apples are wiser.  

This is where apple 101 suddenly becomes apple 401, when we reflect on our shortcomings and realize Malus Domestica has succeeded where we have not. Our intelligence, for instance, is in our brain, in our concepts not our being, ruling us to MANdate the environment (dictate how it's "supposed to be".) If you think science is intelligent, guess again. Our MANipulation of the planet has only accellerated and we're constantly re-upping our MANdate to steward the land. We assume we know what's best. 

This vision, this concept, we predominantly realize in the form of agriculture, the 12,000-year-old occupation serving Man's relatively sudden population growth and non-nomadic civilizations. In fact, we call it cultivation, not MANipulation, to suggest actual culturing, but the latter best fits the act of unilaterally altering the environment with only our species in mind. At its worst, agriculture has looked like all-out war with the larger cultures of this planet (the clear-cutting of the Amazon, the American Dust Bowl, and mass extinctions, discarded like mutilated roadkill in our wake, for instance); While at our best, we try to "cultivate" a mutually beneficial ecosystem. 

We know now (or some of us do) that we can't go on bullying the planet with the trajectory of the Western agrarian concept. We are not spiritually or philosophically "other" than this planet, and to continue to uphold that biblical destination is, at this point, clearly suicidal. Instead, some people are reevaluating what cultivation means (a word with deep anthropocentrism in its etymology) and learning of other versions of success/ larger success. Apple trees represent one such version. The tree of wisdom might one day teach us of a more intelligent harmony.   

"Seeing" Nature

Prologue

Who doesn't love Thoreau? From our vantage point, 150 years more emersed in an industrial landscape than he, the Transcendentalist poet appears more peaceful and grounded by Nature. He was observant and respectful of "the wild," and when we compare his priorities to our own, Thoreau looks like a sage trying to steer Western society in the right direction. 

But from another perspective (and perspective is what this post is all about), Thoreau can appear naive and superficial. When you compare his experience in the American wild to that of the Native American, he comes off as a tourist and his writing seems romanticized. Why should we care about his perspective of Nature when an entire race of people lived closer to the subject and had infinitely more to say about it?  

In the following essay, I want to exploit the gap between these vantage points, and I'm going to quote from Luther Standing Bear, a Lakota chief of the late 19th century. He writes:

We did not think of the American landscape, with its tangled growth, as “wild.”  Only to the White Man was nature a “wilderness”.  To us, the Earth was tame, bountiful, and surrounded with the blessings of The Great Mystery.

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Before we go down this road though, we got to make sure you're properly insecure about the subject, Nature (or specifically: Relating to Nature.) Because, if Thoreau was a novice, you sure can't profess to be "in-tune with the wild." We're too disadvantaged now. The whole planet is now affected by Man. 

Plus, our minds are further from wild. We're now born to understand things in relation to thoughts rather than just relating to them directly. Our intellect has become our defense, our distancer from Nature, and the scientific gaze has become our cultural perspective. But this "studying approach" won't gain insight into the Native American perspective and unless we drop this viewpoint (which is all it is), we will only distance ourselves further.   

A wise man once said, "Understanding is the booby prize of life." In other words, there's real observation and participation that could otherwise be had. And if Standing Bear is to be read, we need to accept that we don't (and can't) contextualize Everything. We must accept there's mystery. He uses that word right there his quote, but all Native Americans spoke of Great Spirit and clearly their culture honored mystery. To ignore these words, or to erase them from the study of Nature, would be like studying a tree without acknowledging the ground the tree is attached to (which, BTW, is exactly how specialists are trained to see Everything.)       

So, achieving self-reflection or humility is going to be tall order for us, but it's worth the try. And although I'm in the same boat you are, totally ignorant about my relationship to Nature, I'm going to proceed using the metaphors I studied because that's what I'm familiar with...  

I come from an art background, and I believe that with this subject John Berger might serve us well. . Specifically, I'm going to build off his famous mid-century critique, Ways of Seeing. 

Now, for those who don't know his work, Berger reflects intensely on the art-audience's vantage-point. He points out how art-viewers are not "blank slates", and that they were never given the chance to see art cleanly. He notes how Modern people are born with cultural context that predetermines meaning for us. Our understanding is already formed and it's impossible to erase. For instance, our education and a never-ending bombardment of media-affirmations continue shape our perspective. We can't see without these contextualizations. 

And if we can't see Art for what it is, perhaps we can't see Nature for what it is either. In our minds we already "know" what we're seeing (though, obviously, we don't: History proves we're perpetually taking new information into account, and we have to adjust the "facts" we hold true.) The worst part about our this is, none of us are aware of it! We rationalize our convictions using the same cerebral tools that actually block us from seeing Nature in its' whole!

Well, as for Berger, his critique on art went over the heads of the general audience (his essay effectively changed nothing about the way we see art), but what a shame if this were to happen with Nature! The stakes are high. So, let's begin by looking at the Nature from scratch, without out pre-formed perspective. Let's start by looking at our looking...         

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Chapter 1.   Deconstructing What It Means "To See"

"To see," is to connect two entities: (1) There's someone doing the seeing, and (2) there's something being seen. 

The eyes are like ambassadors between these entities. They gaze externally, imprinting the world's perceptible properties on to the retina, and then connect internally to the brain via the optic nerve. This is the physical act of seeing that we're all taught, but the dual external/ internal function makes vision a far more profound of a subject.      

If it were just purely physical, seeing would the focus of the ophthalmologists and no one else. But there's another definition that launches deep into meta-physicals (beyond the physical) and this is how we usually use the word. Etymologically, and still in the dictionary, "seeing" is also defined as understanding what we see.  We combine the internal and external.  

Descartes ("I think, therefore I am), for example, thought that the eyes were the crossroads of the soul, like a highway on/off ramp in an ontological relationship between body and mind. Plato, too, emphasized the eye’s role in our relationship to "the Truth" (which, according to the Allegory of the Cave, lay somewhere out there for our discovery.) What we know to be true, according to the Greek, is made possible by where we stand and which direction we're looking. 

You may think these are ancient thoughts but, in actuality, they describe our everyday assumptions. They are still famous because these philosophers laid-down ideas that continue to dominate our notion of the human experience. For instance, when we say, "Do you see what I'm saying?", we're extending Plato's exact metaphor* of The Cave. 

And the reason I'm bringing it up is, the ambiguous relationship between our non-physical thoughts (including personal identity, what we think as "us" verses "other") and our physical senses (like eyesight), is a problem that continues to perplex as we view Nature and ourselves. We still have not discovered a better way of relating to the world other than "internal me" versus "everything outside of me" (although Eastern philosophy and religions offer alternatives.) 

To recap: Perspective influences what we think is real and not. Thoughts change as our vantage-point changes (which seems obvious to say, but for some reason we don't remember it -- or don't believe it -- when only our brain gets involved.) I, personally, believe we need to doubt all understanding (which is just a vantage-point) and keep our eyes open to new discoveries, new positions. And to accept strange statements like that, or anything said by Standing Bear, we will gain access to the bigger picture. 

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This is The End, for now. As I said, it's a work in progress and it's part of a book I'm working on. I'll finish it there. maybe

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*I can't resist reflecting on the word, Metaphor... 

You can see how meta-phor shares a prefix with meta-physics but don't be frightened by that, the definition of metaphysical isn't owned by the religious. Metaphysics is simply the pairing of meta ("behind" or "beyond") and physical. The Greeks coined the word to describe aspects of realities which were in the head and not found in the physical world. Psychology, for instance. Thoughts, feelings, and yes, spirituality are examples of meta-physical study.  

So that's a little on the meta part, but with Meta-phor the suffix is equally interesting. Phor comes from the ancient word bher, which means "to bear", as in a child.  Thus, a Meta-phor is properly defined as something that bears another thing's meaning -- pods to carry another thing forward. Words themselves are examples of metaphor since they bear the definition of a concept we wish to communicate (ipso facto, metaphor is a metaphor of itself!)   

In other words, we don't communicate in physical fact, we communicate in meta-phoric packages. We'd like to think things can be "perfectly clear" between two people but that's an impossible fantasy. Definitions are already subjectified in our heads, but they become further metaphorical as they're communicated and unpackaged by the second person. There is no such thing as understanding between two people, there is only "I, personally, made sense of the information and I think we're more or less on the same page now."