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Uncultivated: Wild Apples, Real Cider, and the Complicated Art of Making a Living
"The best wine book I read this year was not about wine. It was about cider"--Eric Asimov, New York Times , on Uncultivated Today, food is being reconsidered. It’s a front-and-center topic in everything from politics to art, from science to economics. We know now that leaving food to government and industry specialists was one of the twentieth century’s greatest mistakes. The question is where do we go from here.
Author Andy Brennan describes uncultivation as a It involves exploring the wild; recognizing that much of nature is omitted from our conventional ways of seeing and doing things (our cultivations); and realizing the advantages to embracing what we’ve somehow forgotten or ignored. For most of us this process can be difficult, like swimming against the strong current of our modern culture.
The hero of this book is the wild apple. Uncultivated follows Brennan’s twenty-four-year history with naturalized trees and shows how they have guided him toward successes in agriculture, in the art of cider making, and in creating a small-farm business. The book contains useful information relevant to those particular fields, but is designed to connect the wild to a far greater audience, skillfully blending cultural criticism with a food activist’s agenda.
Apples rank among the most manipulated crops in the world, because not only do farmers want perfect fruit, they also assume the health of the tree depends on human intervention. Yet wild trees live all around us, and left to their own devices, they achieve different forms of success that modernity fails to apprehend. Andy Brennan learned of the health and taste advantages of such trees, and by emulating nature in his orchard (and in his cider) he has also enjoyed environmental and financial benefits. None of this would be possible by following today’s prevailing winds of apple cultivation.
In all fields, our cultural perspective is limited by a parallel proclivity. It’s not just we all must fight tendencies toward specialization, efficiency, linear thought, and predetermined growth. We have cultivated those tendencies at the exclusion of nature’s full range. If Uncultivated is about faith in nature, and the power it has to deliver us from our own mistakes, then wild apple trees have already shown us the way.
Author Andy Brennan describes uncultivation as a It involves exploring the wild; recognizing that much of nature is omitted from our conventional ways of seeing and doing things (our cultivations); and realizing the advantages to embracing what we’ve somehow forgotten or ignored. For most of us this process can be difficult, like swimming against the strong current of our modern culture.
The hero of this book is the wild apple. Uncultivated follows Brennan’s twenty-four-year history with naturalized trees and shows how they have guided him toward successes in agriculture, in the art of cider making, and in creating a small-farm business. The book contains useful information relevant to those particular fields, but is designed to connect the wild to a far greater audience, skillfully blending cultural criticism with a food activist’s agenda.
Apples rank among the most manipulated crops in the world, because not only do farmers want perfect fruit, they also assume the health of the tree depends on human intervention. Yet wild trees live all around us, and left to their own devices, they achieve different forms of success that modernity fails to apprehend. Andy Brennan learned of the health and taste advantages of such trees, and by emulating nature in his orchard (and in his cider) he has also enjoyed environmental and financial benefits. None of this would be possible by following today’s prevailing winds of apple cultivation.
In all fields, our cultural perspective is limited by a parallel proclivity. It’s not just we all must fight tendencies toward specialization, efficiency, linear thought, and predetermined growth. We have cultivated those tendencies at the exclusion of nature’s full range. If Uncultivated is about faith in nature, and the power it has to deliver us from our own mistakes, then wild apple trees have already shown us the way.
288 pages, Paperback
Published August 14, 2020
21 people are currently reading
255 people want to read
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May 5, 2019
Andy Brennan becomes a maniac before your eyes. In Uncultivated, he morphs from introverted struggling artist to manic spokesman for marginal, but historically fulfilling and naturally satisfying apple ciders. Not the canned ones, not the ones made from industrial apples and processes. He likens those to apple spritzers. No, what’s writing about is naturally fermented ciders made from wild apples in upstate New York.
The book is all over the place. It constantly switches from the issues and heroes of cidering, to personal milestones in his life, to historical facts about his local area, to personal issues and development as a farmer and neighbor, to the mechanics of making a living, and to the state of the world of agriculture. And all of it goes to support his increasingly strident view of working within nature and not for the most potential dollars. “With each passing year I seem to be getting more and more insane with my stubbornness,” he freely admits late in the book.
It’s a real rollercoaster of a tale. In the middle of the book, in the midst of otherwise sane discourse, Brennan suddenly erupts, or perhaps blooms, with a rant on cider:
“It’s the tannins! You might try to spit it out but it’s too late. The apple has already released a chalky, woody quality that acts like the little people of Gulliver’s Travels tying down a tingling sensation to the front end of your mouth like a 9-volt battery. Shit, this actually hurts! you unexpectedly say to yourself. You’re used to juicy apples exploding in your mouth before swiftly falling off the back waterslide, but this apple is setting up shop like a sadistic dentist and you’re alarmed at what the Novocain precludes. Maybe the bitterness means the apple is poisonous. Maybe Denniston Red [Brennan’s favorite tree] was the model for Snow White’s witchy queen after all. Maybe this is why the fruit is forbidden? Doomed, you just tasted a cider apple.” 148
His cider is rated top notch. It is used by highly-rated Manhattan eateries. He spent a lot of time as a media star, hyping the value of apple cider, how it is made, its place in US history, and what to look for in a cider. He only makes 1500 gallons a year, because that’s all he and his wife Polly can handle without driving themselves to drink. He forages for wild apples, and neighbors dump bags and barrels of them in his driveway, because they are no good to eat.
Brennan divides the apple world into two. The vast majority are industrially raised, exact clones of thin skinned, large, juicy fruit for commercial production. Wild apples are small, thick skinned, mottled, rusted, dirty, dry and chewy. He says they are meant for animals, not humans. Animals take them and spread the five or ten seeds in each one. That is the purpose of an apple. Apples for humans are artificial constructs. But the wild ones make apparently unbelievable ciders.
Ciders have a wide range of flavors and tastes, subtleties and character. Like the trees they come from, each one is an individual personality. Brennan attributes anthropomorphic characterizations to wild apple trees according to their fruit, their location, their shape, size and habits. He gives them names. Apple trees have DNA three times as dense as human DNA, and so every offspring is different from its parent, like human children. Planting the seed of an apple you like will almost certainly not give you a tree with more of the same fruit. Only cutting and grafting branches onto other rootstock will do that. And that is the essence of the modern orchard, which Brennan detests.
There is a lot of repetition in Uncultivated, as Brennan seeks to hammer certain points home. He mentions far too many times how introverted he is, so he refuses to have a store or tastings at his farm. Yet he gives lectures, addresses crowds, appears in all manner of media and deals with total strangers at farmers markets within about 90 minutes of his home. His writing is bold, brassy and assertive, very unlike introverts. Methinks he doth protest too much.
There is lots to love about the book. It even has a climax of sorts, when he tries to take delivery of a shipment of bottles for the current crop. It is a wonderfully unexpected story of struggle that I won’t spoil for you. All this to say by the end of Uncultivated, readers know more about Andy Brennan than his old neighbors ever did in Brooklyn where he largely failed to become a recognized artist, and probably more than most of his neighbors in Wurtsboro in the Catskills know about him today.
The writing is firm, informative and entertaining. Brennan gives lots of credit to others: experts, farmers, neighbors, and all kinds of help. Both requested and serendipitous. It is a rocky (literally) trip to a state of contentment and mastery of an age-old, remarkably simple process he has chosen for his life. Brennan has backfilled with both local and apple history, which overlap continuously. It is fine entertainment with a serious message.
David Wineberg
The book is all over the place. It constantly switches from the issues and heroes of cidering, to personal milestones in his life, to historical facts about his local area, to personal issues and development as a farmer and neighbor, to the mechanics of making a living, and to the state of the world of agriculture. And all of it goes to support his increasingly strident view of working within nature and not for the most potential dollars. “With each passing year I seem to be getting more and more insane with my stubbornness,” he freely admits late in the book.
It’s a real rollercoaster of a tale. In the middle of the book, in the midst of otherwise sane discourse, Brennan suddenly erupts, or perhaps blooms, with a rant on cider:
“It’s the tannins! You might try to spit it out but it’s too late. The apple has already released a chalky, woody quality that acts like the little people of Gulliver’s Travels tying down a tingling sensation to the front end of your mouth like a 9-volt battery. Shit, this actually hurts! you unexpectedly say to yourself. You’re used to juicy apples exploding in your mouth before swiftly falling off the back waterslide, but this apple is setting up shop like a sadistic dentist and you’re alarmed at what the Novocain precludes. Maybe the bitterness means the apple is poisonous. Maybe Denniston Red [Brennan’s favorite tree] was the model for Snow White’s witchy queen after all. Maybe this is why the fruit is forbidden? Doomed, you just tasted a cider apple.” 148
His cider is rated top notch. It is used by highly-rated Manhattan eateries. He spent a lot of time as a media star, hyping the value of apple cider, how it is made, its place in US history, and what to look for in a cider. He only makes 1500 gallons a year, because that’s all he and his wife Polly can handle without driving themselves to drink. He forages for wild apples, and neighbors dump bags and barrels of them in his driveway, because they are no good to eat.
Brennan divides the apple world into two. The vast majority are industrially raised, exact clones of thin skinned, large, juicy fruit for commercial production. Wild apples are small, thick skinned, mottled, rusted, dirty, dry and chewy. He says they are meant for animals, not humans. Animals take them and spread the five or ten seeds in each one. That is the purpose of an apple. Apples for humans are artificial constructs. But the wild ones make apparently unbelievable ciders.
Ciders have a wide range of flavors and tastes, subtleties and character. Like the trees they come from, each one is an individual personality. Brennan attributes anthropomorphic characterizations to wild apple trees according to their fruit, their location, their shape, size and habits. He gives them names. Apple trees have DNA three times as dense as human DNA, and so every offspring is different from its parent, like human children. Planting the seed of an apple you like will almost certainly not give you a tree with more of the same fruit. Only cutting and grafting branches onto other rootstock will do that. And that is the essence of the modern orchard, which Brennan detests.
There is a lot of repetition in Uncultivated, as Brennan seeks to hammer certain points home. He mentions far too many times how introverted he is, so he refuses to have a store or tastings at his farm. Yet he gives lectures, addresses crowds, appears in all manner of media and deals with total strangers at farmers markets within about 90 minutes of his home. His writing is bold, brassy and assertive, very unlike introverts. Methinks he doth protest too much.
There is lots to love about the book. It even has a climax of sorts, when he tries to take delivery of a shipment of bottles for the current crop. It is a wonderfully unexpected story of struggle that I won’t spoil for you. All this to say by the end of Uncultivated, readers know more about Andy Brennan than his old neighbors ever did in Brooklyn where he largely failed to become a recognized artist, and probably more than most of his neighbors in Wurtsboro in the Catskills know about him today.
The writing is firm, informative and entertaining. Brennan gives lots of credit to others: experts, farmers, neighbors, and all kinds of help. Both requested and serendipitous. It is a rocky (literally) trip to a state of contentment and mastery of an age-old, remarkably simple process he has chosen for his life. Brennan has backfilled with both local and apple history, which overlap continuously. It is fine entertainment with a serious message.
David Wineberg
January 5, 2023
I enjoyed reading a different perspective on cidermaking, but I have a few too many issues with this book to recommend it. The author's persona is a modern trope: the anti-intellectual who thinks outside the box to become successful in his own way and now preaches about it to like-minded people. He failed at growing apples (because what do "scientists" know), but found a niche making cider from wild apple trees. His method of production is not scalable or even very profitable, but yes, his cider is good. His praises for wild apple trees are bogus. Apple trees are a domesticated, or man-made species, so his argument that "wild" trees are more "natural" is pretty darn flawed (a point he makes reference to but does not address). From my own experience making cider from pippins (stray seedling trees), he is way too optimistic about the quality of the fruit - apples grown from seed are genetically random, and the majority do not have the traits to make good cider. Notice that he never goes into detail on exactly how much of his product actually comes from foraged apples and how many come from commercial farms - except that a rare bottle of 100% foraged crab apples costs over $100. From a personal standpoint, I could not stand the fact that he referred to himself as an artist every other sentence, as if that makes his total rebuke of science acceptable. Progress, technology, and even information are just modern evils. Despite very much enjoying his cider and his contribution to the new wave of craft ciders, I fully believe that his success was a product of the right place at the right time.
Apart from the major philosophical issues, I can't figure out the intended audience of this book - only a dedicated cider enthusiast would read it, the author being unknown outside the circle. But it reads as is it was written for someone who's never heard of hard cider before. It's a completely non-technical biography, an ode to one man's love of his current profession. That was a disappointment to me, as I was hoping to learn something about apples or cidermaking, but accepting it as just a series of personal reflections, I still found much to be desired.
Yes, I'm a bit critical of this novel because of my interest in the subject.
Apart from the major philosophical issues, I can't figure out the intended audience of this book - only a dedicated cider enthusiast would read it, the author being unknown outside the circle. But it reads as is it was written for someone who's never heard of hard cider before. It's a completely non-technical biography, an ode to one man's love of his current profession. That was a disappointment to me, as I was hoping to learn something about apples or cidermaking, but accepting it as just a series of personal reflections, I still found much to be desired.
Yes, I'm a bit critical of this novel because of my interest in the subject.
May 5, 2019
The owners of the local cider works are some of the business owners in town who actually recognize me, greet me by name, and take time to catch up with me when I visit. That’s more due to how often that I visit than anything else. So I was super excited to read this book so that I could talk with the cider works’ owners about it at my next visit.
This is a very challenging review to write because this was a very challenging book to read. It took me just under two months to read because I was reluctant to pick it back up after stopping for the evening. I was more trepidatious than enthusiastic about where the narrative would take me next, because the author tended to use cider making as a springboard to dive headfirst into difficult socioeconomic issues. Had this book not been a NetGalley ARC, I probably would have abandoned it after the first one hundred pages.
The narrative style reminded me vaguely of Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard, in that the narrative frequently branched off from its central topic (cider making) into treatment of a social issue, or a memory, or a history lesson, or whatever else the author thought was important at that moment. So much so that it seemed like the minority of the book was actually about cider making, and the majority of the book was about the author’s opinions on various social issues. However, like all the branches of a wild apple tree are organically connected to the trunk, these seemingly random tangents were all ultimately connected back to the core premise of cider making. And the tangents seemed to sprout organically from the main discussion of cider making - or from the nearest tangent - that the book read very quickly once I got beyond my expectations and into the flow of the narrative. But getting into that flow was such a challenge for me, especially since early on in the book the author’s tangents seem to dwell in the realm of socioeconomic critique. The softer more entertaining anecdotes about life on the farm and about being a cider maker came much later on in the book.
In talking with owners of the local cider works about the book after I finished it, they affirmed that how I described the book to them was authentically the author’s voice. I’ve got to give the author credit for putting this book out there and resisting any editorial input that would have softened his candid critiques in order to broaden the appeal of the book.
I do believe that there may be an audience for this book who would consider it to be a refreshing work of genius. I’m just not that audience.
I received this book as a digital advance reader copy from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
This is a very challenging review to write because this was a very challenging book to read. It took me just under two months to read because I was reluctant to pick it back up after stopping for the evening. I was more trepidatious than enthusiastic about where the narrative would take me next, because the author tended to use cider making as a springboard to dive headfirst into difficult socioeconomic issues. Had this book not been a NetGalley ARC, I probably would have abandoned it after the first one hundred pages.
The narrative style reminded me vaguely of Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard, in that the narrative frequently branched off from its central topic (cider making) into treatment of a social issue, or a memory, or a history lesson, or whatever else the author thought was important at that moment. So much so that it seemed like the minority of the book was actually about cider making, and the majority of the book was about the author’s opinions on various social issues. However, like all the branches of a wild apple tree are organically connected to the trunk, these seemingly random tangents were all ultimately connected back to the core premise of cider making. And the tangents seemed to sprout organically from the main discussion of cider making - or from the nearest tangent - that the book read very quickly once I got beyond my expectations and into the flow of the narrative. But getting into that flow was such a challenge for me, especially since early on in the book the author’s tangents seem to dwell in the realm of socioeconomic critique. The softer more entertaining anecdotes about life on the farm and about being a cider maker came much later on in the book.
In talking with owners of the local cider works about the book after I finished it, they affirmed that how I described the book to them was authentically the author’s voice. I’ve got to give the author credit for putting this book out there and resisting any editorial input that would have softened his candid critiques in order to broaden the appeal of the book.
I do believe that there may be an audience for this book who would consider it to be a refreshing work of genius. I’m just not that audience.
I received this book as a digital advance reader copy from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
August 2, 2019
*I received a free copy of this book from the publisher through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.*
I really enjoyed learning more about apples and cider production; reading the book made me excited to learn more about this natural way of producing cider and my husband and I even were moved to buy cider from Brennan’s cidery because we were so interested in it. I found his thoughts about apple farming and food production in general to be engaging.
However, this read was a bit of a slog for me. While I think it would be very useful for those who want to start making their own cider and possibly turning it into a business, for the average vaguely-interested-in-this-concept person like me, I didn’t really need to know all the different information about soils, root stocks, types of apples, etc. Again, I thought it was fascinating to learn about how he made his cider and what he does himself for his business, but the background information about building it as a business and the nitty-gritty agricultural aspect wasn’t a huge draw for me. I do think it’s incredibly comprehensive though, so if that’s what you’re looking for, this book has quite a lot of information within it.
This book is an enjoyable read, though, and it will definitely make you want to try some cider while you’re reading it! Anyone interested in cider-making would find something to like from this book, even if they don’t need to read the whole book to get what they’d like out of it.
Also posted on Purple People Readers.
I really enjoyed learning more about apples and cider production; reading the book made me excited to learn more about this natural way of producing cider and my husband and I even were moved to buy cider from Brennan’s cidery because we were so interested in it. I found his thoughts about apple farming and food production in general to be engaging.
However, this read was a bit of a slog for me. While I think it would be very useful for those who want to start making their own cider and possibly turning it into a business, for the average vaguely-interested-in-this-concept person like me, I didn’t really need to know all the different information about soils, root stocks, types of apples, etc. Again, I thought it was fascinating to learn about how he made his cider and what he does himself for his business, but the background information about building it as a business and the nitty-gritty agricultural aspect wasn’t a huge draw for me. I do think it’s incredibly comprehensive though, so if that’s what you’re looking for, this book has quite a lot of information within it.
This book is an enjoyable read, though, and it will definitely make you want to try some cider while you’re reading it! Anyone interested in cider-making would find something to like from this book, even if they don’t need to read the whole book to get what they’d like out of it.
Also posted on Purple People Readers.
October 4, 2019
I wanted to love this book, as I love Chelsea Green (the publisher) books, I admire the author, and he's obviously a brilliant and dedicated man. I even love making apple cider, and make it from foraged apples the old fashioned way. I just couldn't get into it. It's a deep and winding read that just couldn't keep my attention. I highly recommend it for a certain niche, but I'm not sure who that niche is.
I read a temporary digital ARC of this book for the purpose of review.
I read a temporary digital ARC of this book for the purpose of review.
November 20, 2023
This one was a bit tough to read for me. I’ve read a dozen or so books on cider making and cider culture and the one thing that has proven to be a good early litmus test for whether or not I’ll connect to a text is how much of an absolutist the author is.
Cider (worldwide, but especially in the USA) is a vast and diverse industry with as many different offerings as there are types of apples. While I’m sympathetic to Brennan’s arguments about the homogenization of agriculture (and “culture” more generally), his reactionary stance leaves no room for a middle ground. Do cider apples (as opposed to grocery store monocultures) make better cider? Yes. But the goal of the cider industry should be to grow as a whole. The cideries that Brennan lambasts are the same ones that serve as an entry point for millions of drinkers who would never look at the “true” ciders in 750 ml corked-and-caged offerings in their local bottle shops. And, as those industrial/cheap cideries look to improve their product, they have the sway to get orchardists to graft over Fuji’s and Gala’s with proper cider apples in a way that then raises the bar for all cider makers.
I just don’t agree with his absolutist stance. I think it ignores the broader cider landscape in favor of an unrealistic utopian vision of days gone by that are unlikely to return.
I’ll also add in that one of the chapters starts and ends with a metaphor which somewhat clumsily and unnecessarily compares those apple monocultures to women in South Beach who have had plastic surgery. It felt forced and a bit misogynistic and really left a bad taste in my mouth. It felt like an unforced error that primarily distracted from an otherwise passionate statement of values regarding cider and agriculture generally. I don’t know that I would have left a better review if those passages were excluded, but it certainly did nothing to endear me to his cause.
Cider (worldwide, but especially in the USA) is a vast and diverse industry with as many different offerings as there are types of apples. While I’m sympathetic to Brennan’s arguments about the homogenization of agriculture (and “culture” more generally), his reactionary stance leaves no room for a middle ground. Do cider apples (as opposed to grocery store monocultures) make better cider? Yes. But the goal of the cider industry should be to grow as a whole. The cideries that Brennan lambasts are the same ones that serve as an entry point for millions of drinkers who would never look at the “true” ciders in 750 ml corked-and-caged offerings in their local bottle shops. And, as those industrial/cheap cideries look to improve their product, they have the sway to get orchardists to graft over Fuji’s and Gala’s with proper cider apples in a way that then raises the bar for all cider makers.
I just don’t agree with his absolutist stance. I think it ignores the broader cider landscape in favor of an unrealistic utopian vision of days gone by that are unlikely to return.
I’ll also add in that one of the chapters starts and ends with a metaphor which somewhat clumsily and unnecessarily compares those apple monocultures to women in South Beach who have had plastic surgery. It felt forced and a bit misogynistic and really left a bad taste in my mouth. It felt like an unforced error that primarily distracted from an otherwise passionate statement of values regarding cider and agriculture generally. I don’t know that I would have left a better review if those passages were excluded, but it certainly did nothing to endear me to his cause.
July 27, 2021
It's a mixed apology for enjoying physical labor and getting so good at it that you sell out.
Stoked to brew up some rando-deer apples tho.
Stoked to brew up some rando-deer apples tho.
December 12, 2022
“But cider basically is a wine: fruit fermented. Any alteration to that formula is simply that: an alteration” (150).
“My apologies to those who like unchallenging ciders, though you can rest assured that the wine industry still has its spritzers” (150).
“Maybe that’s what commoditization and expansionism is all about, but it’s an awful mistake to think that’s what business is about. My ‘competition’ is a bunch of farmers; who would want to squash them anyway? I want to live in a world that allows for us all, rather than pitting us against one another in some sick survival-of-the-biggest competition. If one economy can’t do that, then another one can. And it can” (231).
“Please join me in an appreciation for the word difficult, a word I heard described to me growing up. It’s a word that doesn’t hide its etymology very well: In plain view are both culture and differ (as in different). We’ve already belabored the word culture, but note that differ stems from a word meaning ‘distress,’ often applied to poverty. Here again we’ve found a word that connects soil wealth and human wealth, but, I, personally, like to think the word difficult means ‘a culture that begs to differ’” (251).
“My apologies to those who like unchallenging ciders, though you can rest assured that the wine industry still has its spritzers” (150).
“Maybe that’s what commoditization and expansionism is all about, but it’s an awful mistake to think that’s what business is about. My ‘competition’ is a bunch of farmers; who would want to squash them anyway? I want to live in a world that allows for us all, rather than pitting us against one another in some sick survival-of-the-biggest competition. If one economy can’t do that, then another one can. And it can” (231).
“Please join me in an appreciation for the word difficult, a word I heard described to me growing up. It’s a word that doesn’t hide its etymology very well: In plain view are both culture and differ (as in different). We’ve already belabored the word culture, but note that differ stems from a word meaning ‘distress,’ often applied to poverty. Here again we’ve found a word that connects soil wealth and human wealth, but, I, personally, like to think the word difficult means ‘a culture that begs to differ’” (251).
October 23, 2019
Do you like apples? Great, but not required. Do you like cider? Great, but not required. More importantly, do you like other people who obsess over the tiny details behind the tiny details that go into creating a highly specific product? Do you like having a peek into the mind of someone who has dedicated their life to a level of mastery (of anything) that is increasingly unheard of in the American culture?
I initially bought this book because I'm personally creating a crash course in the history of the apple for myself, and the title showed up around the internet a lot, but the pleasant surprise was that reading this book made me want to become best friends with the author, and actually made me feel like we were halfway there already but for the self-professed introversion on his side (and unprofessed introversion on mine). Andy Brennan's mind is fascinating, his dedication to craft and excellence is admirable, and if you're into pomology or agriculture at all, you'll learn something.
I initially bought this book because I'm personally creating a crash course in the history of the apple for myself, and the title showed up around the internet a lot, but the pleasant surprise was that reading this book made me want to become best friends with the author, and actually made me feel like we were halfway there already but for the self-professed introversion on his side (and unprofessed introversion on mine). Andy Brennan's mind is fascinating, his dedication to craft and excellence is admirable, and if you're into pomology or agriculture at all, you'll learn something.
January 24, 2020
This is an incredibly smart guy, with a raw, "uncultivated" writing style... A little bit ranty and manic, but he includes some serious real talk; refreshing, until it's too much. He doesn't deny what is his own speculation, but has also done his homework on a lot of related and relevant side topics.
He's entertaining and inspiring, but in the second half of the not-so-organized book book I got tired of his socialist (privileged?) agenda. I get it that he's found a way to support himself that doesn't rely on making more money, that's fantastic for him, but he doesn't really acknowledge the privilege in that. Many people have to keep striving upward just to keep up with their own lives/obligations, and so this book doesn't seem like a practical piece of advice for a lot of people. He keeps suggesting there's a better system, but doesn't open up a discussion about how to get there.
He's entertaining and inspiring, but in the second half of the not-so-organized book book I got tired of his socialist (privileged?) agenda. I get it that he's found a way to support himself that doesn't rely on making more money, that's fantastic for him, but he doesn't really acknowledge the privilege in that. Many people have to keep striving upward just to keep up with their own lives/obligations, and so this book doesn't seem like a practical piece of advice for a lot of people. He keeps suggesting there's a better system, but doesn't open up a discussion about how to get there.
April 20, 2021
An interesting but difficult book. Less cider and process oriented that I'd hoped, and full of half formed stores that end unexpectedly... never tone picked up. Read this if you're interested in the struggles of modern farmers, if you're looking for a book that validates 'natural' food production or an intriguing autobiography. Don't read this for cider making, foraging tips or because you're thinking about starting a Cidery.
Has some (mostly) interesting natural and social history of New York, and I learned a few things as a history buff that I didn't know.
Has some (mostly) interesting natural and social history of New York, and I learned a few things as a history buff that I didn't know.
August 24, 2020
Made me thirst for the sort of cider the author makes, and for a patch of earth to nurture an orchard on. The narrative meanders wildly, a little like the untamed orchards that make the best cider. I was ultimately unconvinced by the author’s “stay small at any cost” position, not because I’m pro growth, but because he seems to compromise his art because he can’t and won’t be more open-minded about the possibility that there are even better ways to make cider.
April 8, 2021
The most raucous and entertaining salute to apple growing and making a living. Part lecture, part research with laugh out loud writing, Brennan proclaims what is wrong about big agriculture and commercial, industrial cider. He makes a convincing case for un-cultivating our orchards and creating "forchards" where wild apple trees thrive in forests.
June 1, 2021
I liked the story telling. I sympathize with the cultural points he is making.
The writing style reminded me of a hound puppy. Follow some interesting trail over here, then get distracted and follow some new trail. Then circle around from the other side to get near the first point again.
Worth the read.
The writing style reminded me of a hound puppy. Follow some interesting trail over here, then get distracted and follow some new trail. Then circle around from the other side to get near the first point again.
Worth the read.
August 15, 2019
A good resource, thought-provoking ideas about agro, culture, and business vis-a-vis food and drink.
August 20, 2023
I think biodiversity in food is such an important topic, and that's why Uncultivated was on my TBR list for so long. And while I think the author definitely delves into that topic, the book tends to meander a bit and sometimes it gets a little difficult to follow along. Some of the anecdotes not really adding much to the overall theme of growing wild apples and how to make a living in the cider business, and at times it felt like the author was told to punch up the page count and added some tangentially related stories.
There is plenty of interesting information in this book, and it definitely gives some appreciation for the often neglected cider culture (I was CRAVING cider while reading this, and left disappointed by the scant collection we had at my local liquor store.) I just wished that the book was a little better balanced, but if you're passionate about biodiversity this is worth a read.
There is plenty of interesting information in this book, and it definitely gives some appreciation for the often neglected cider culture (I was CRAVING cider while reading this, and left disappointed by the scant collection we had at my local liquor store.) I just wished that the book was a little better balanced, but if you're passionate about biodiversity this is worth a read.
February 21, 2021
As an aspiring home holistic orchardist, I love this book and Andy's approach.
August 2, 2019
*I received a free copy of this book from the publisher through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.*
Andy Brennan is absolutely fascinating when discussing the world of cider, apple farms, and his journey becoming involved in these areas. Unfortunately, when pontificating upon almost anything else it gets a bit dicey. Uncultivated started off as a wonderful read. From the introduction alone I not only became excited to read the book but also wanted to (and eventually did) buy and try some of the cider Andy makes at the Aaron Burr Cidery. The descriptions of what cider is, is not, and should be are nothing short of beautiful.
The book goes through several different sections. I found the first couple sections about apples and cider to be fascinating and learned a lot about both subjects. I enjoyed the descriptions of the different attributes one would look for in a cider apple versus an apple for eating and learning about the wild apples that grow in the area of New York where Andy forages and makes his cider was also incredibly interesting to me. Furthermore, learning about the process of making cider and how it has changed over the years was equally interesting and made me want to try my hand at trying to make my own cider. While perhaps a little longer than it needed to be, I overall enjoyed these first two sections.
The section on business is where I started to get a little lost. On the positive side, I appreciated the differentiation between commercial cider and what Andy would consider true cider. It made a lot of sense to me and I enjoyed learning about some of the distinctions. At this point of the book however the snobbery that was hinted at throughout really came to the fore. This would have been ok if it did not feel like he was repeating similar points over and over again and finding weird analogies that do not always work and occasionally took me out of what I was reading.
Overall, I found the book to be quite interesting. It is worth a read if you are interested in cider, although, I wish the book were about a third shorter than it is since it became rather repetitive which led to to some of the more grating elements of Andy’s style to become apparent and annoying.
Also posted on Purple People Readers.
Andy Brennan is absolutely fascinating when discussing the world of cider, apple farms, and his journey becoming involved in these areas. Unfortunately, when pontificating upon almost anything else it gets a bit dicey. Uncultivated started off as a wonderful read. From the introduction alone I not only became excited to read the book but also wanted to (and eventually did) buy and try some of the cider Andy makes at the Aaron Burr Cidery. The descriptions of what cider is, is not, and should be are nothing short of beautiful.
The book goes through several different sections. I found the first couple sections about apples and cider to be fascinating and learned a lot about both subjects. I enjoyed the descriptions of the different attributes one would look for in a cider apple versus an apple for eating and learning about the wild apples that grow in the area of New York where Andy forages and makes his cider was also incredibly interesting to me. Furthermore, learning about the process of making cider and how it has changed over the years was equally interesting and made me want to try my hand at trying to make my own cider. While perhaps a little longer than it needed to be, I overall enjoyed these first two sections.
The section on business is where I started to get a little lost. On the positive side, I appreciated the differentiation between commercial cider and what Andy would consider true cider. It made a lot of sense to me and I enjoyed learning about some of the distinctions. At this point of the book however the snobbery that was hinted at throughout really came to the fore. This would have been ok if it did not feel like he was repeating similar points over and over again and finding weird analogies that do not always work and occasionally took me out of what I was reading.
Overall, I found the book to be quite interesting. It is worth a read if you are interested in cider, although, I wish the book were about a third shorter than it is since it became rather repetitive which led to to some of the more grating elements of Andy’s style to become apparent and annoying.
Also posted on Purple People Readers.
January 27, 2022
I have almost no interest in cider, but I’m very interested in apple trees, wild plants, and small business. So about half of this book was really interesting to me. The other half was only mildly interesting. Even though I don’t care about cider. There’s plenty to learn from building a cider business that can be used in other markets, or just continuing to pursue your own hobbies if you don't want to create a business.
March 19, 2019
Everything about this book is unique! From the very eye catching title and cover plus the unusual jacket cover to the entertaining, educating story itself. I think anyone would enjoy the book, not just us cider lovers. Any business is difficult to start and keep running. If you had to add in mother nature's whimsy you multiply the difficulty. Andy Brennan has done a great job of chronicling his journey and finding along the way that this is what he was meant to do all along. The book fits into so many different categories that it is really a stand alone category itself. For inspirational self help, memoir, biography, outdoor life, etc. you'll love this book.
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