Giant Tortoises

Perry is one of those rare beverages that seems to make converts – and even evangelicals – of anyone involved. Made from the fermented juice of perry pears, it directly connects the drinker with history, tradition, and terroir. Yet there’s also something intangibly magical and unique about it which sends even hardened makers and merchants into raptures. 

“It’s exciting tasting perry pears,” says James Forbes of Little Pomona. “When you taste the raw fruit, you’re almost holding your breath in anticipation about whether it’s going to turn your head inside out with tannins or rip the enamel off your teeth with acid.” 

Fine Cider merchant Felix Nash says “everything that makes cider incredible, magical and unique is there, but three- or four-fold in amazement and uniqueness in good – and bad – ways for perry.” With perry, he adds, “people have to know that they are drinking history.”

Indeed, scrolling back through the story of this extraordinary drink, you soon discover that it’s been around since Roman times, was written about in the 4th Century by St Jerome, became the toast of Georgian England, and was dubbed the “English champagne” by Napoleon himself. 

One of the orchards from which Little Pomona hand-pick their perry pears, in Dymock, Gloucestershire, was planted 250 years ago.  As James Forbes explains, “some of the trees are that old. And what I like about it is the perry we make from that is unpasteurised, unfiltered and a wild ferment, so you have a direct link back to the Georgian period of English history. Because we haven’t killed the perry pear, there’s still a living connection with that era. I can’t think of another drink from something that old; I can think of really old drinks – you can still buy 18th Century bottles of Madeira at auctions, but they’re dead – this is a living thing, so it’s fascinating.”

This is just one of the many reasons perry lovers – including yours truly – get so excited. You can keep your great wine from this or that vintage that’s been aged for a few years. Honestly, that’s nothing; it’s just a blink of an eye. 

Felix Nash smiles at the idea. “People go on about a vine being 100-years-old while you can have a 300-year-old perry pear tree. These trees can live three times as long as us – like giant tortoises. So you’re getting a connection with the past in our fast-paced world, drinking a little bit of history. And taste-wise it’s also elegant and poised, the way someone looks back at traditional clothing and the old filigree.”

Of course, making perry from the fermented juice of perry pears isn’t easy – and more things can go wrong compared to fermenting apple juice. Plus, these trees grow incredibly slowly, and you can wait a couple of decades for a decent harvest. This isn’t like commercial ‘pear cider’, which tends to be apple cider tarted up with syrup, flavouring or pear juice. Authentic perry pears are small, hard, sour and tannic with a fleeting window of ripeness, and they must be picked before they start to degrade. Get the timing wrong and the pears ‘blet’ or rot from the inside out. 

James Forbes says they’re like grapes in this way. “There’s a very narrow window. But unlike people who grow grapes, typically perry people aren’t in their orchards every day looking at all the pears and checking if they’re ready and picking them up from the ground; it’s much more labour-intensive and very difficult to be on top of it.” 

This means they’re always standing ready, says Susanna Forbes, and even have ‘pear scouts’ who know the orchards and let them know the moment the perry pears are ripe. “If they say, yes, yes, yes, they’re ready, then we change our schedule. They cause real challenges. You don’t know when they’re coming, so you have to rearrange your whole schedule.” 

James agrees: “Perry pears are very similar to eating pears; they’re hard, they’re hard, they’re hard, then they’re mush! You’ve got to be on top of them all the time.” 

When it comes to the incredible flavours of the perry pear, says Susanna, “they range from your unctuous, very tropical fruit, very fragrant, through to what we pick from this Dymock orchard, the Butt pear, with zingy, green flavours. Also the acids in there give it food friendliness, so you don’t know whether to sip and savour and think about it, or move on, it’s such a different spectrum and palate. Once you try a perry from a good grower, it changes your perspective on everything.” 

James is also blown away by these flavours: “If you’re pressing apples and taste the juice, I find it’s not necessarily very thrilling. But when you press perry pears, the juice coming off the press is always amazing. The flavours are not like other things, there’s always that buzz of excitement.” 

Something else that adds to the magical, almost mythical quality of this terroir-driven drink is the idea that perry pear orchards should be sited near May Hill, which straddles the boundary between Gloucestershire and Herefordshire. And though perry makers in Somerset, Devon, Normandy and even Germany might beg to differ, the myth endures. 

Susanna takes a breath when she speaks of this place. “When you go there you feel the electricity, and it’s amazing how many fabulous producers are within sight of May Hill. We know that if we look out on a very clear day, from our top window at Little Pomona, we can just about see it!” 

For Felix Nash, perry is inextricably entwined with the place. “My memory is having it at lunch in Herefordshire, and it feels like some beautiful and elegant calm, like it’s unwavering across all that time, that history. It doesn’t have to be bold and brash, it’s subtle. Those trees are still there across that time, and you tap into that and get a bit of that sensation when you drink it. It’s refreshing, and I love its softness even more than cider.”

Little Pomona are forging ahead with their next perry projects and hope more people will join them in making it – and enjoying it. They are very much of the if-we-build-it-they-will-come school of thought, and believe if we encourage people to understand “why it’s so special, and why it’s worth cherishing, it’s going to be back to customers asking for it.”

And it’s hard to disagree with Felix Nash, who says that cider has its connotations, but people do know about it, so you’re trying to rewrite what people think. “But with perry,” he says, “people don’t know about it, so it’s a blank slate. It’s the new kid on the block.”