Have you cidered? Is that even a word?
I guess a better question would be, have you ever made cider? And by make cider, I mean, stood at a giant cider press, tossed in apples to grind, and then pressed the ground apple bits until all of the juice was nice and squeezed out?
As I sit here, typing this, I’m sipping on some amazing golden apple cider, pressed just a few hours ago by myself and some new friends (well, one I’ve known for a couple of years, the other two I met today). It’s incredibly satisfying.
What was really satisfying was turning that press, and watching the juice flow out, into the bucket.
After I took my first sip (the first sip of the whole batch, actually), the other guy that was present said, “there’s something about fresh squeezed juice. It just makes your brain go, ‘whoah!’” I couldn’t agree more. It’s like the body is saying, “yes please.” — and in a way that I’ve never experieced before. Not with juice, any way.
So, what’s the point here? There really isn’t one. I just wanted to share. I’m enjoying this cider (I’ve got four mason jars of it in my fridge). I’m feeling grateful for having been invited into a community building experience. That’s all there is to it.