Valley Cider

Valley Cider

You could call Bruce McKinlay’s cider philosophy a cross between Gimli the dwarf and Gandalf the wizard. “Shrinking back down is the best thing I ever did,” says the former IT company owner, who operates a cheerfully iconoclastic one-man show at Duncan’s Valley Cider, 20 minutes south of Ladysmith. There’s wizardry in the ingredients he uses to concoct his five dry ciders, each at 6.5% ABV: “With modern cider, we think about what’s in the bottle and take a culinary perspective. The skies just open up.”

McKinlay planted his own orchard with apple varieties like Gala, Ambrosia, and Spartan. At his rural, 5,000-square-foot facility, he justifiably talks up his Prosecco-like Bon-Dri (“Tell the wine-drinkers because they like it! Boo-ya!”), hoppy Humulus Lupus (“I use local aromatic hops with no bittering”), and floral-infused Love Potion (“I had a rosewater and lavender dessert in Paris, and I knew this had to have rose petals”).

Marketing his product mainly by word-of-mouth, McKinlay recently welcomed five young Australian WOOFers – volunteers with Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms – who helped with labeling and bottling in exchange for a letter of reference. I appreciate the selfless sentiment. Yet just as Bilbo’s sword glows near orcs, my stomach now glows, knowing it’s time for lunch at nearby Merridale.