Melplash Show Cider Contest: Dorset’s Autumn Flavour on Full Display

It’s a bright September morning in Bridport and the Melplash Show has the whole town buzzing. Stalls line the greens, crowds elbow each other for a glimpse of glossy pigs, shaggy sheep and massive cattle. Even the local celebrity, actor Martin Clunes, trots his hefty strawberry‑roan gelding—mane twined in ribbons—into the ring, but most people are more interested in the horse’s size than his fame.

Inside the bustling handicrafts and produce tent, rows of glass bottles sit like amber jewels, each promising a different take on the region’s age‑old cider craft. By 8:30 a.m. the two judges—Ross Mangles, the respected cider‑maker from North Down Orchard, and James Crowden, a noted cider writer—were already sampling, armed with a slab of blue‑veined cheddar, a packet of cream crackers and a glass of water for balance.

Fast forward to ten o’clock and they’d already taken a sip of every one of the 36 entries. The bottles were at least a quarter empty, the judges’ faces lit with enthusiasm, and the atmosphere in the tent felt like a friendly tasting party rather than a stiff competition.

The contest is strict about tradition: only non‑fizzy, “still” ciders are allowed, split into dry, medium and sweet categories. A trophy crowns the best‑in‑show overall. Ross explained that his judging rubric focuses on clarity, balance and that comforting roundness you feel on the palate.

When he offered me a taste of the overall champion, I was met with a sweet, almost silky cider that slipped smoothly past the tongue. It was good, but my heart went to the medium‑style winner—a drink with a noticeable tannic bite, made just outside Bridport by a small, non‑commercial producer. This one embodied the classic farmhouse style, fermented from a mixed orchard of heritage apples: Dabinett, Breakwell’s seedling, Sweet Alford and Crimson King. Each sip felt like a stroll through an autumn orchard.

Unfortunately, the optimism was tinged with worry. The summer’s relentless heat and drought have knocked the apple crop down to roughly eighty percent of a normal year’s yield. “We expected a lean year after last year’s bumper,” Ross admitted, “but this is worse than we imagined.” He still has some juice left from last year’s pressing, yet many fellow producers are scrambling for enough fruit.

That scarcity, however, hasn’t stopped Dorset’s small‑scale cider renaissance. Village clubs have sprung up, eager to keep the art of apple‑pressing alive. New orchards are being planted, ancient varieties are being rescued, and there’s a hopeful chatter that next year’s harvest could be plentiful enough to refill the empty barrels.

For anyone interested in the wider story of English countryside diaries, the Guardian’s collection “Under the Changing Skies: The Best of the Country Diary, 2018‑2024” is now available through guardianbookshop.com.