Hosting a small apple tasting gathering in autumn

Why an autumn tasting suits a village table

By mid-September the orchard has quietly finished its business. The wasps have had their share, the windfalls are sweetening on the grass, and the branches are beginning to sag in earnest. It is the one moment in the year when almost everyone in a village has more apples than they know what to do with — and very little idea what most of them are called. An apple tasting turns that happy glut into an afternoon that costs almost nothing and is remembered for years. No catering, no bar, no complicated arrangements: just apples, labels, and a few neighbours who are curious about flavour.

It is also the most sociable way to identify what you are growing. Half the mature trees in any parish are unnamed, and a gathering where everyone brings a sample is a far better identification tool than any book.

Setting the date, the table, and the guest list

Aim for late September through to the end of October, on a Sunday afternoon between two and five. Invite six to twelve people — enough for a lively table, few enough that everyone can taste everything. Ask each guest to bring three or four apples of a single variety, ideally from their own tree or a pick-your-own, plus a chair if you are outdoors.

A trestle table in a sheltered spot does nicely. You will want:

• A small plate or saucer per variety, each with a paper label and a number
• Two or three sharp knives and a chopping board
• A bowl of cold water with a good squeeze of lemon in it, to stop the slices browning
• Glasses of water, plain crackers or a sliced baguette, and a bucket for spitting
• Pens and slips of paper for tasting notes

If the weather turns, a garage, barn or conservatory works just as well. A rug over a hay bale and a couple of lanterns make it feel deliberate rather than improvised.

Labelling: the small job that makes the whole thing work

Label everything, without exception. A card should carry the variety if known, where it grew, the date it was picked, and whether it is an eater, a cooker or a cider apple. For unidentified trees, write something like unknown — tree by the church gate, large, red-flushed, picked 5 October. That description is more useful than a blank plate, and it invites conversation rather than guesswork.

Pick at peak ripeness. A ripe apple lifts away with a gentle twist and comes away with its stalk intact; if you have to tug, leave it another week. Store the fruit in single layers in a cool, dark shed and do not wash it until the day — a wipe with a dry cloth is enough. Cut thin wedges just before each tasting round, discarding pips and core.

Running the tasting so the flavours actually register

Order matters. Begin with the light, early eaters — Discovery, Katy, James Grieve — then move to the classic mid-season fruit such as Cox's Orange Pippin, Ribston Pippin and Worcester Pearmain. Follow with the russets, Egremont Russet and Ashmead's Kernel, then the cookers, and finish with cider varieties like Dabinett and Kingston Black, whose tannin will coat the mouth for some time afterwards.

Between each variety, take water and a plain cracker. Encourage everyone to taste the same apple twice: the second bite almost always tells a different story from the first. Ask people to say out loud what they notice — acidity, sugar, aroma, texture, whether the flesh is crisp or soft, whether the skin is thick or papery. A simple tasting sheet with four columns works well: variety, first impressions, sweet or sharp, and would I grow this?

Fifteen varieties is a generous afternoon. Beyond that, notes blur and palates tire. If you have a great many apples to get through, break the session with tea and a slice of something baked, then start again.

The recipe table: pies, cider, and chutney

Set a second, smaller table aside for recipes. Ask each guest to bring one written out by hand, and a small sample if they can manage it. Photocopy or copy them into a little booklet afterwards; it becomes the record of the afternoon.

• Pies and crumbles: Bramleys alone, or a mix of Bramley with a sharp eater such as Cox for depth of flavour. A little cinnamon, a knob of butter, and a hot oven are all you need.
• Cider: blend sharp, sweet and bitter varieties rather than relying on one. Kingston Black and Dabinett bring the tannin that makes a proper West Country pint. Ferment cool and slow, and be patient with it.
• Chutney: windfalls are perfect here. Apples, onions, raisins, brown sugar, cider vinegar, ginger and a chilli, simmered down until the spoon leaves a clean line across the pan.

Keep a jug of the sharpest eater you grew on the table for anyone who finds the sweet varieties cloying by the end.

Notes to keep for next year

Before everyone goes home, ask them to write their favourite of the day on a slip of paper and pin it to the shed wall. Note which tree cropped heavily, which variety disappeared first, and which one nobody finished. Then, when the chairs are folded and the last plate is cleared, you will have a shortlist for planting, a booklet of recipes, and a reasonable idea of what that mystery tree by the gate actually is. The same gathering, held again next October, will be easier and better attended — which is how most good rural traditions begin.