Cider in the

CIDER has a problem. It's neither beer nor wine. It's too strong to be one, too weak to be the other. And while big makers place more value on sugar and CO2 than on apples, artisans produce cheap rocket fuel that suit only the most hardy rural palates.

While much of this is true, it isn't the whole truth. Yes, cider is neither beer nor wine, but drinkers would get more from it if they saw it not as a substitute but as a genuine alternative.

In recent years a new wave of cider makers who understand this has emerged. Often urban refugees, they cherish the rustic side of cider's nature but bring with them urban expectations and values. They come to it as critical and thoughtful wine drinkers rather than beer drinkers. And, above all, they believe good cider belongs on the dining table.

Susie and Ivor Dunkerton have been making blended and single varietal ciders and perries at their farm near Pembridge, Herefordshire, for 12 years, gradually building up their knowledge and earning a name for their carefully made and sophisticated drinks.

For a long time they sold their ciders through specialist retailers such as idiosyncratic off-licences, food halls and wholefood shops. Attempts to crack the local pubs failed. They blame the stranglehold Whitbread and Bulmer's have on the trade, but one suspects their brands are just a little too sophisticated for local drinkers.

The Dunkertons soon realised that if they wanted to grow they could either chance all on the whim of the supermarket buyer or come up with a retail operation of their own. That's how the oak skeletons of two barns, no longer wanted at the farms where they had stood for 400 years, came to be dismantled and re-erected on Ivor and Susie's farm to form their new restaurant, the Cider House.

It is clear from the decor of the restaurant and from the refinement of the ciders that Ivor and Susie are not rustics. In fact, he was once a TV producer and she was a theatre administrator. Sit down to pork rillettes washed down with Kingston Black single varietal cider and you'll find yourself reflecting that cultural cross-fertilisation is not such a bad thing.

The restaurant opened last July in an area where there is a big middle class population but not too many eateries. It enjoyed a good Christmas and is set for an even better summer, with longer opening hours and a newly paved patio overlooking the gentle rolling hills.

But even a restaurant called the Cider House gets plenty of customers who won't drink cider.

"Our problem is that the big cider makers have defined what cider is for most people," says Ivor. "We do get people turning their noses up at cider with their meals, so we have a wine list and real ale for them. But generally people get into the spirit of it, and when they ask for a pint and we suggest just a half or even a wine glass full they understand something about our products just from that."

Chef Paul Bretherton is a convert to cooking with cider and perry and says there's a dash of it in everything. "It survives the cooking better than wine," he says. "More of the characteristics come through to the finished dish. It just gives a better flavour."

Fine cider surely deserves a place at the best-kept tables. But Lawrence Mallinson of Suffolk cider maker James White is sceptical.

Founded in 1980, the firm has won a name for its aromatic, floral, yet bone-dry ciders made, in keeping with local custom, from culinary and dessert apples. But Lawrence despairs of his products ever making it to the West End.

"My cider is more in the style of a wine than a beer," he says. "But apart from the few that make a big thing of cider, we can't sell to restaurants. We've been to all the trade shows, but we aren't seen as part of the mainstream and however hard we try we can't shift the prejudice. It's a shame, because well-made cider can live with any cuisine."

Bigger fish have also failed to crack the restaurant trade. Bulmer's has withdrawn two table ciders, Hockham's and Discovery, after a poor reception. This is despite the boom in sugar-and-CO2 ciders, and pasteurised ciders made of concentrate.

So why won't the trade give the good stuff a chance? Perhaps chefs should taste it and see. Any takers? Nico? Anton? n