Sometimes seen as country bumpkins next to Washington’s sophisticated wines, hard ciders are content to chill. Served frosty, in shades ranging from pale pink to deep amber, ciders beckon with a subtle invitation. But that doesn’t make them simple.
It was September 2012, and I awoke to another Saturday of smoke. The valley was flooded with it, eliminating the possibility of outdoor recreation. Instead, I figured I’d get some work done at the office.
The Eastern foothills of the snow-capped Cascade Mountains slope gently downward into the Yakima Highlands, dry lands thick with sagebrush and bunchgrass, rabbitbrush and wildflowers blooming in season. Here, where this upland desert gives way to the lush green leaves of apple trees growing neatly in rows, sits the city of Tieton, Washington.
To get back to roots. Back to the woods and the mountains, great roaring streams—not roaring, really more like crashing, falling, cascading—yes, the Cascades were calling and we answered. It was time to get back.