Food Pairing

Voice & Vision

Beans. They’ve been eaten by humans for thousands of years. They’re a food source that has deep roots in so many cultures. Indeed, fabada—a white bean stew—is unofficially the marque dish of the Asturias region in Spain. Some say Asturians started eating the stew in protest of the Moors (it contains pork, which the Moors did not eat), and the protest grew into rebellion—Asturians ultimately repelled the Moors, perhaps it was the beans that did the job? Another example of the importance of beans is feijoada. This black bean stew is so cherished in Brazil that it has been deemed the country’s national dish.

Closer to home for us, Hoppin’ John is an iconic beans-and-rice dish of the Carolina lowcountry, and has deep traditions in all of the American South. As is the case with many “American” dishes, Hoppin’ John is of African origin. Human beings, though forced into slavery and unimaginable suffering, found a way to preserve their traditions by introducing their bean and rice making on their captor’s land. They also brought beans and rice with them, which became key agricultural crops in the lowcountry.

This little meditation/exploration of beans (yes, it barely even skims the surface) is not just an aimless flitter through my mind. Rather, it is part of a larger discourse we’ve been having here at Courthouse Creek. We are in the midst of really finding our voice, and honing our vision, after seven years of orcharding, making cider, and building out our farm and tasting room. This is different than “knowing your why” Rather, this is about putting all the pieces together so that they work in harmony, so that they capture our sense of place. It is the attempt to manifest the metaphysical concept of terrior. So, beans? Well, first, cider.

We grow apple trees, and we make cider in the natural method. This minimal intervention approach produces ciders that are somewhat (I said, somewhat) reminiscent of Asturian sidra, or Basque sagardoa. Our cider is meant to be enjoyed with food (aren’t all wines supposed to be enjoyed with food?), and many of the food traditions found in the Asturias and Basque regions tend to pair really well with our cider. Yes, dishes like fabada go together with our cider like, well, peas in a pod? But, we are not in Spain. We are in Virginia, in the American South. And where we are manifests itself in our soil, the things we grow, the air we breathe, the people we meet, the apples we grow—you get the idea. For us, terroir is the totality of a place. As I’ve said in the past, it’s all the things around you that give your life purpose, character, and texture.

So, when I sat down with Chef Rob Almodovar to consider our upcoming food menu, we talked beans. Thinking about fabada, and its natural affinity with our cider, we took a step back to consider our sense of place, and how that informs how we see and experience things here. Our voice— our vision—is filtered through this metaphysical concept of terroir. Everything we do revolves around finding and expressing our voice in the fields, in the glass, and on the fork. So, again, beans. While fabada is a jumping off point, as is feijoada (remember, a sense of place, terroir if you will, includes the people and their experiences, i.e., Chef Rob’s Brazilian roots), we consider these dishes as seen through the lens of the American South, and then refine that until we get to the dish as seen through the lens at 1581 Maidens Road, Maidens, Virginia—our property. The stock we used for our bean dish (pictured above) is made with the feet and parts of the chickens we raised and harvested a few weeks ago. The dish also features tomatoes from our main garden. The beans are black-eyed peas, a nod to Hoppin’ John, and a recognition of the strength of the enslaved human beings who introduced it to the American South. The dish is finished with a corn succotash (yes, grown here) and a sunny side up egg on top, which comes from our orchard hens.

So, yes, beans—as seen through our sense of place. And this dish will pair perfectly with Old Country, a cider we are releasing this weekend (July 31, 2021). Old Country is our version of an old world sidra.

Be well. Eat Well. Drink Well.

We’re an experience. Drink it up. Drink it in.

It’s early in the morning. I’m hunched over a bin of apples, scooping them up and tossing them into the scratter. The pomace will then be pressed, and what we call our liquid gold—apple juice—will be on its way to becoming a Courthouse Creek cider. It is tedious, labor intensive work. We don’t press all of our apples, as we are lucky that one of our apple growers—Silver Creek—has a massive press that keeps almost every Virginia cidery flush with juice.

Anyway, with my head inside the bin, an aroma wafts up and strikes me hard—licorice, a touch of honey, and what I can only describe as a scent of ambrosia. Drink of the gods? Sweet nectar? Ambrosia fruit salad? I don’t know, but it was devastatingly good, and it stopped me cold.

I grab a handful of the apples and shove them in my face. Pure magic. In my best emulation of some John Hughes character—think the Brian Johnson character in the Breakfast Club, when he was stoned (I was never the cool kid)—I utter, “This, this is the shit!” Mind you. I’m alone in the cidery. I’ve probably got Pandora’s yacht rock radio station playing “Sailing,” by Christopher Cross. I told you, I’m not the cool kid.

But. It really is the shit, in the best possible way. And then it hits me. This is what we make at Courthouse Creek—an experience. Like sniffing dreamy ambrosia apples in the morning, our ciders are meant to be part of your experiences. There when you celebrate a wedding or other special occasion. Those moments in between time—like when you visit with an old friend, or when you look at your lover in just the right light and realize, yet again, how amazing and wonderful he or she is. And certainly, can’t forget those unforgettable meals with friends and family. Our cider is meant to be part of these life experiences, and a compliment to them, if you will.

We are not a commodity—we are not a mass-produced, unspecialized product. Don’t get me wrong, we are also not some pretentious product that is so highbrow that even we can’t stand ourselves. Nope. That attitude is not the shit. All I can tell you is that we work hard to produce Virginia cider, naturally. We do not add acids, sugar, water, sulfites, unnatural flavorings—we don’t add any bullshit. We do use only Virginia apples. We do strive for taste, and a deeper relationship between cider and food. We can only hope you enjoy the fruits of our labor, and pair it with a great experience.

Eric Cioffi, co-owner of Courthouse Creek Cider, checking out the Northern Spy apples.

Why we live for the funk.

“The kids around the way used to think that I was buggin’
But they don’t understand how I feel about the funk
I walk with the funk, I talk with the funk
I eat with the funk, I sleep with the funk
I live for the funk, I’ll die for the funk
So now what do they say, when I’m walkin’ up the block?
Boom shaka laka there goes the Chief Rocka”
-Lords of the Underground

If you’ve come in to our tasting room (and if you haven’t, you really should!), then you’ve heard us describe our cider making method as “rustic” or “natural.” What does that mean? While there are no set definitions, we define the rustic or natural approach as producing cider without using chemicals and without the significant use of, or reliance upon, modern technology. Stated another way, we essentially go old school. But don’t confuse old school with the purist approach (i.e., only apple juice, no infusions, no hops, etc.) We’re old school, but not purists.

At this point, you should be asking yourself, “Why the hell would anyone go old school?” Good question.

There are lots of reasons not to do it. For instance, using barrels to ferment and age instead of slick, shiny stainless steel tanks dramatically increases the risk of oxidization—something frowned upon in the fermentation world. And not using preservatives increases the chance that lots of unwanted microbes and the like will infect the cider.

However, we don’t necessarily view the presence of other microbes as “unwanted” or “infections.” And allowing our cider and its friend, Yeast, to breathe a little seems like the right thing to do. To us, our cider is a living thing. Who wants to be suffocated? Also, filtering, preserving, and “chemicalizing” cider results in too much conformity. And in our opinion, conformity dulls imagination. Put another way, when there is more diversity of life at the party, things can get more interesting. We like interesting—even if it’s a little risky and outside the norm. In the end, there are more reasons to go old school than not. It’s a personal choice, and one that fits who we are and our sense of place here in Goochland, Virginia (more on terroir another time).

So, that’s why we follow a rustic/natural method. We use barrels, avoid the use of sulfites when at all possible, and don’t run our cider through a fancy filtration device. We walk with the funk. Talk with funk. Eat with funk. You get the idea.

The importance of the kitchen.

We live in a chaotic paced techno-modern time, where everything is literally at our fingertips—the miracle (curse?) of cell phones. Now, more than ever, the value in disconnecting from technology and plugging back in to the actual lives around us cannot be underestimated. For us, this natural, real life revolves around the kitchen. It becomes a place to break bread, catch-up on the day’s events, and simply communicate in person and not by text. We relish the opportunity to share a meal with family and friends. And no meal would be complete without some cider to accompany it! Here is a simple, tasty small bite to get the conversation going in your kitchen. Invite some family and friends over, unplug, unwind, break some bread (or a biscuit) and enjoy! Pairs well with the Honest Farmer and the Emperor.

Smoked Cheddar Biscuits with Bacon Jam

For the smoked cheddar biscuits:

2 cups flour
1 tbsp baking powder
1 ½ tsp salt
12 tbsp cold butter
½ cup buttermilk
1 cold large egg
1 cup smoked cheddar cheese (grated)

Preheat Oven to 425ºF.
Mix together in an electric mixer fitted with a paddle: flour, baking powder, and salt. Cut in the butter (a little at a time) in to the flour mixture and blend until butter is the size of small peas.

In another bowl, combine and beat lightly the buttermilk and egg and slowly add this wet mixture to the flour mixture. Mix cheese with a small handful of flour and fold into mixture while mixer is still on low. Mix until roughly combined. Take out and knead on a lightly floured surface about 6 times. Roll out to a rectangle and, using a sharp knife, cut the dough into desired shape/sizes. We have used a cookie cutter, and also just eyeballed it and cut into squares or triangles. If desired, mix one egg white with 1 tablespoon of water or milk and brush the tops with it. Sprinkle with salt. Put on parchment paper and bake for 20 minutes, or until tops are browned and cooked through.

For the bacon jam:

1 1/2 pounds sliced bacon, cut crosswise into about ½-1 inch pieces
8 shallots (or 2 medium yellow onions), cut into smallish dice
3 garlic cloves, smashed and peeled
3/4 cup strongly brewed coffee
1/2 cup cider vinegar
1/2 cup packed dark brown sugar (or use less, depending on your taste)
1/4 cup maple syrup
2 tbsp chocolate balsamic (a regular, good balsamic will also work)

In a large heavy skillet over medium heat, cook bacon, stirring occasionally, until fat is rendered and bacon is lightly browned, about 20 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the bacon to paper towel lined plate to drain.
Pour off all but 2 tbsp of the drippings from the skillet and reserve. Add the shallots and garlic and cook until translucent, about 6 minutes. Season generously with black pepper. Add coffee, vinegar, sugar, syrup and balsamic and bring to boil. Cook, scraping up any browned bits from bottom, for 2 minutes. Add bacon back in and stir.
Reduce the heat to bare simmer and cook uncovered, stirring occasionally, until the liquid almost completely evaporates and turns syrupy, 1 to 1 1/2 hours.

Let bacon jam cool slightly before transferring to a food processor and pulsing until coarsely chopped. Spoon over the biscuits, or store covered. You can make this a day ahead of time and refrigerate. If you do, make sure to warm it up in a pan before serving.

Putting it all together:

Take a biscuit. Spoon some warm jam over the biscuit. Take a bite. Smile. Sip some cider. Repeat.