At one time a group of us were living in the Lodge house down by the main road, at the end of the grass driveway.  Just across the road was an old farm where real somerset scrumpy was made by the local farmer.  The cellar was cool and dark and in the autumn time we would watch as this antiquated press had layers of straw and apples loaded onto it.  the pile would be about 6' high and 4' square.  Then by hand he would turn the press handle.  the juice was then put in these 120 gallon sherry barrwels, with a piece of meat.  When the meat and bone had dissolved that was when it was ready for drinking.  And boy oh boy did we drink that stuff.  We would buy a gallon jar of it for half a crown.  It was a murky yellow colour with a greenish tinge, and it packed a wallop.  The hangover was as evil as the colour of it.  We would also drink it in the local pubs in Nether Stowey while looking at these characters in the bar with these huge purple noses suffused with violent red blood vessels.  I can`t touch the stuff now, but it sure tasted good.

 

Regards to all

Steve Ash Vie