And so came the day when the apples parted company with the cider. Woo-hoo onto thee. And all was well with the world until the wasps descended like a plague on the compost pile where I’d chucked the apples. I ran. Tootle-do. Revoir. Bonsoir.
I was told by the Vinegar Oracle to relax and enjoy this process. I’m trying. But one shouldn’t lose sight of the fact that I’m creating something here, life I think. Not sure about that though. I am clear on one fact: I’m a creator. Sedrick will attest to that.
And yea onto youse, since this was the 9th day, not the 7th, I set back to work. I strained the apples from the golden nectar, and left to its own devices, to rest under an open-weave shroud (my antique tea towel with the faded words “Miller’s Flour” printed across it). And there it sits by itself in a shaded, cool corner of the utility room. I found a plastic measuring jug in the back of the cupboard for this part of process, and I’m hoping that it’s okay. I needed use of my glass bowl, so I claimed it back from the apples. Now patience is all that’s required. I’m assured that it will turn from a sparkling sweet substance to one as tart and sour as that tarty Parisian woman who propositioned my 16-year-old son outside the Moulin Rouge a decade ago. I mean what sort of half-wit propositions a boy when his mother is standing right next him? My son’s expression was a mix of surprise, shock and amusement when we told him what she was after. But I digress. Again. Just call me Waffle.
So here’s a photo of the apple cider not-yet-vinegar at 10AM on Day 9.
And here’s a photo at 6PM. This is worse than holiday photos …
And here’s a photo at 8AM on Day 10, today. Not only is the sickeningly sweet aroma of fermenting apples gone but a wee-itsy-bitsy taste this morning (huge mistake! More about that later) revealed a hint of vinegar sourness.
I hugely suggest that you do not taste-test your ‘are-you-vinegar-yet’ elixir first thing in the morning before you’ve fully awoken, and certainly not imediately after brushing your teeth. It’s a rather distasteful shock.