Since the time of the Industrial Revolution we have lived in a world increasingly
defined by specialization. Apples are one of the few exceptions. Go into almost any
modern supermarket and you’ll find perhaps a dozen or so apple varieties for sale.
To a great extent these apples are all “general practitioners,” mostly bred to be
crisp and juicy for eating, but also acceptable enough for kitchen use. Fruit of a
lower market grade (smaller or cosmetically imperfect) gets sold at a much lower
wholesale price and goes into making processed foods and juice.
Yet in earlier centuries most people knew a lot more about apples than we
do today, and understood specifically what they were good for: long-term storage;
early-season pies and late-season pies; baked apples, applesauce, apple butter,
cider, vinegar, and so on.
Hewes is one of our oldest known American apples, and it’s a specialist too.
It makes some of the best-quality cider you’ll ever taste, but it’s completely
worthless for anything else. Like the classic high-tannin European cider apples
(classified as bittersweets and bittersharps) it isn’t suitable for eating out of hand;
nor is the tough, fibrous flesh with its acid/astringent taste useful for cooking. On
top of all that, the apples are quite small, even for a crab, and they ripen early in
the season. The small size makes them a chore to pick on those still-hot September
days, and they need to be pressed fairly soon after harvest.
So why then has this apple survived such a long time, and why do modern
U.S. cidermakers value it so highly? Well, to explain that, I need to tell a story.
Some years ago, I was invited to give a talk on heritage apples at the Thomas
Jefferson Library in Virginia. One evening some of my fellow speakers and I visited
Jefferson’s Monticello estate, with a light breeze picking up just before sunset.
There was a tropical storm on the way, we were told, due to hit the North Carolina
coast. That night we had some serious rain and wind, and the following morning
we all went over to Tufton Farm, one of Jefferson’s other properties bordering
Monticello. I was scheduled to do a demonstration of cider pressing with my old
friend Tom Burford, and we gamely held up our end, pressing juice out of Hewes
apples that had come straight from the North Orchard at Monticello (where
Jefferson also had grown them for cider). The juice from those practically inedible
apples was so sweet and dark and rich that it was a revelation to the few people
hunkering down with us under our tent. And to me as well—I only wish I’d had a
hydrometer with me so I could have measured what must have been an incredibly
high Brix (sugar) level. The flavor was amazing: nectar of the gods. And then,
suddenly, the rain stopped, the clouds parted, and the sun appeared. All in all, an
incredible experience.
Not much is known, or even speculated, about the origins of Hewes, so far as
I can tell. William Coxe in the 1817 book A View to the Cultivation of Fruit Trees
simply says that the apple “is satisfactorily traced to Virginia,” and that trees he
knew in one location had been growing there for nearly a century. Coxe refers to
the variety as “Hewe’s Virginia Crab.” Again, no one knows who Hewe, or Hugh,
or Hewes refers to (or why the apostrophe), but it really doesn’t matter anymore.
Today many people refer to the apple simply as Virginia Crab, which is a perfectly
apt alternative name.
The apple isn’t a true crab (in other words, not one of the several native
American species that are distinct from the common apple, Malus domestica). But
since we don’t know its parentage, it is entirely possible that Hewes could represent
one of the many natural apple/crabapple crosses. Or it may just be a seedling
apple with naturally small “crab-sized” fruit.
As grown in Virginia, and other warm climates, Hewes makes quite a strong
cider when fermented (9.5 percent alcohol or more is common). Jefferson
considered it one of the very best apples for cider, which is why he had it planted so
widely in his North Orchard. Fellow Virginian George Washington reportedly
preferred the cider made from Harrison to that of Hewes, but I can’t really quibble
with either of them.
I looked up my tasting notes for a 2019 Hewes cider made by Albemarle
Ciderworks (based in North Garden, Virginia, only a few miles from Monticello).
Here’s how I described it:
- Appearance: Pale gold, brilliantly clear.
- Aroma: Tart apple, orange blossom, and grapefruit, with notes of spice,
berry, leather, wood, and tobacco.
- Flavor: Ripe berries, tart apple, and citrus peel. Soft, almost milk-like
mouthfeel. Acidity upfront balanced by lingering soft tannins (astringency) on
finish.
In other words, Hewes still makes a complex, delightful cider some 300 years
after its discovery. It’s one of only a handful of American apples that produce a
varietal cider equal (or superior) to the best of its European peers. And though
Hewes is native to Virginia, cidermakers in other parts of the U.S. have started to
grow and use it.