


In the dark, the ravens set out. They keep what the world forgets.
Cider is what happens when you leave a good apple in peace, and let time, oak and patience do the rest.
We keep no orchard. We drive the country for fruit that would otherwise rot; surplus from organic farmers, crooked apples the supermarket won't take, backyard trees, allotment crates, and turn it into cider with an origin more widely branched than any industrial brand.
This year's vintage.
Four ciders from the 2025 pressing. No fixed recipe, no fixed apple; each one a different bird entirely.

Common Ground
A bitter English spine softened by two pears. Tall, dry, faintly tannic, with a long quiet finish.

Silkfield
Slow in oak, deepened and rounded. Sweet at the edge, grave at the centre. A cider that speaks low and means it.

Changeling
Honeyed and uncanny — a sweetness no apple ever carried. Restless on the tongue, gone before you place it.

French Press
Golden, supple and full. Neither sweet nor sharp but mannered, somewhere in between. Elegant and unhurried.
Not only cider.
Ginger beer, water kefir, sake and whatever the ravens drag back next. Live, small-batch, and a little wayward.

The Archive
Every cider the ravens have kept, by year — including the sold-out and the one that will not pass this way again.
Walk the ledger →
Find us
Poured in bars, bottle shops and restaurants — and at festivals, markets and the cellar door. No webshop, by design.
See where →The new vintage is bottled
Four ciders from the 2025 pressing are conditioning in the dark. Common Ground and Silkfield pour now; the rest follow as they're ready.
A stranger in the tanks
One batch went its own way again last year. We never fight it. Changeling will not pass this way again.
Driving for fruit
Crates from a Limburg grower, three old high-stem trees in the Achterhoek, a crate left on a doorstep. The keeping continues.

