Crispin hard apple cider

“Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by, from this day until the ending of the world, but we in it…” oh, forget it.

Shakespeare was referring to the battle of Agincourt, anyway—not a brisk hard cider bottled in California. It’s just an assumption on my part that the label chose “Crispin” based upon Henry’s soliloquy in the bard’s famous “Henry V.”

From the days of one room schoolhouses, students here were forced to memorize Shakespearean passages. Yet it took far longer for England’s summertime favorite, hard cider, to penetrate the American market.

Folks on this side of the pond preferred the raspy hull flavor of St. Louis or Milwaukee’s production-line efforts.

Crispin Hard Apple Cider packs a more potent punch, however. It weighs in at five percent alcohol, while at the same time offering the bright, effervescent, heat quenching frost of chilled Cava.

Pour it into a glass and fresh apple cider from childhood spills out to awaken the senses. Aromas of pale Red Delicious flesh and musty pomace strike the nose, followed by only the faintest trace of alcohol.

It’s difficult to detect that five percent.

The taste is shaper than expected at first. A wealth of fruit and fruit by-products—stems, seeds, skin—churn into a sodden yet piercing introduction. It is reminiscent of a dry, non-vintage sparkler, though apple sweetness emerges on the finish.

Crispin adds apple juice to the cider, which likely cuts down on the potential alcohol content while lending each sip a long, luscious finish. In between, you catch a glimpse of the natural production: pomace, with a grounded, earthy taint that comes from pressed apples rather than concentrate.

Crispin is light and crisp enough to enjoy when temperatures peer above the 90 mark. It will also leave buzz-related scars should you overindulge on a shimmering, steaming patio.