I’ve made apple cider for decades now, first starting when my older brother Paul and I would crank the old mill that Dad bought before either one of us was born. It was at least secondhand when he bought it. Paul and I are both in our seventies so that means that old cider mill was probably cranked by Abraham Lincoln. He used to live in western Kentucky, too, so, you know… close enough.

Anyway, several years ago, I started making apple cider jelly. Not from apple juice; from actual, real, hard cider. I’d simmer the stuff in a crock pot with a few sticks of cinnamon and a bit of brown sugar. Then, do the jelly thing with a lot more sugar because that’s what Mother Sure Jell said I had to do. Of course, by the time the cooking was done, all the demon juice had evaporated.

I tinkered with different recipes and the one that got the most rave reviews was my “Captain Jack’s Pirate Jelly.” I added a bit of rum and bourbon to that one and it was mighty fine, I’d have to say. None of the alcohol made it to the canning jars but the blend of flavors was mighty satisfying. Of course, when sugar is the primary ingredient, it’s kind of hard to ruin it.

Hard, but not impossible.

This year, I started off by reducing twelve cups of hard cider to eight cups of… whatever reduced cider would be. Hardshell Baptist Cider?

Then, I added some black walnut extract from simmering wood shavings for a few hours and letting that steep overnight. Then, I made jelly.

Well, I should say that I initiated several attempts to make jelly. Apparently—and most men would be too stubborn to admit this, I reckon, but I was raised different—following the directions makes a difference. Instead of starting out by adding the pectin (Sure Jell) first, I added the sugar. Stirred constantly, brought to a boil, added Sure Jell, bring back to a boil, boil for one minute, pour into jars, put on lids and rings, hot water bath, remove, dance to the happy little dinking noises as the lids seal. Let stand for twenty-four hours.

Trouble was, my jelly didn’t jell. Even after second and third efforts at rescue. Even after doubling the pectin and increasing the sugar amounts by fifty percent for the re-try. It just wouldn’t set. I guess once you’ve ruined it by reversing the sugar/pectin thing, it’s just ruined. It ain’t supposed to be that hard to make hard cider jelly!

Men of lesser determination and greater good sense would have given up at that point. But I was raised different.

“Well,” I said to my Self because nobody else would listen, “If it’s going to act like syrup, we’ll just make syrup.” So, Self and I emptied all the jars back into the big stewer and triggered the gas. Four hours of stirring every few minutes later, the hard cider stuff had reduced by half and thickened noticeably. “Looks like syrup,” Self says to me and I agreed. So we poured it back into the little jars. Started with fifteen cups of stuff and ended with seven-and-a-half. Still looked a bit runny, though. Which is what you want for Hard Cider Walnut Cinnamon syrup, right? Especially while it’s still hot.

Riiighhhttt…

Next morning, lo and behold, a miracle! The syrup had turned into jelly! Really strong, tart, jelly. People of less discerning palate might even describe it as “a bit harsh.” Blasphemy!!!

It’s not a total loss, though.

 I’ve found that if I dissolve three tablespoons of the stuff in eight ounces of boiling water, it makes a right good cup of—wait for it—spiced cider. It was a mighty long trip to get back pretty close to where I started.

Kind of like when the Lord brings a backslider back to the altar. It’s the destination that determines whether or not the trip was worth it, isn’t it? Even if we’d have gotten there a lot sooner if we’d only followed directions.