Drink

Here in Normandy no one can remember when they first began to drink calvados, the amber-coloured apple brandy with a flavour as warm and rich as the late afternoon sunshine. Clearly over the centuries, excessive amounts of it have shorn the populace of their collective historical memory. One thing, however, is certain. Here, the humble apple, considered by some to have been responsible for the fall of mankind, has another significance entirely.

Normans don't talk about eating-apples. They refer to cider apples. And they regard it as their solemn duty to transform them first into cider, then into calvados - the "coveted elixir". It's no linguistic accident that the French call brandies "eaux de vie".

According to local legend, on 21 July 1588, one of the galleons of the Spanish Armada ran into a string of reefs just north of the Normandy coast. Over the years, the ship's name became Frenchified - metamorphosing from San Salvador to Calvador and eventually to Calvados, from which the region takes its name. It was only this century that apple brandy, too, became known as calvados.

The Busnel distillery, built in 1910 by a company established in 1820, is in the heart of the Calvados region. We are eager to begin our degustation. First, however, we must complete the educational tour. So how is calvados made? Drinking-apples - more than 40 kinds of them - grown on the rich clay soil within the appellation controlee are brought to the distillery. They are washed in spring water, crushed and pressed, and the apple juice is fermented into cider in closed vats. Then comes the crucial distillation process.

The Egyptians, themselves partial to a drop of fruit brandy, invented the column still. Here, as at Cognac, a slightly more sophisticated double distillation process is preferred. During this the cider is heated to about 90oC and its condensed vapours, a beautiful crystal clear spirit, eventually emerge from the stills. At about 70 per cent proof, it is considerably stronger than the finished calvados, diluted with distilled water, will be. It is not supposed to be drunk but given that the locals have dubbed it "eau de feu", it must have slipped down many a Norman throat.

By the time we reach the warehouse, we are desperate for a drink. Here are row upon row of oak barrels of maturing calvados: it is the oak that gives the spirit its colour. The air is so heavy with apple-scented alcohol fumes that a mere inhalation is enough to bring on serious giddiness. About 2 per cent of the final yield is lost here, in vapour that rises skywards - "to let the angels," say the Normans, "know that man has fulfilled his mission".

Our guide is proudly explaining how the skill of the head taster's nose and mouth enable him to produce, year after year, recipes for different blends of different calvados vintages that will keep the taste of each distinct and virtually constant. His pride is understandable: remarkably, a 12-year-old calvados blended in, say, the 1960s will taste the same as one created this year. We simply nod and ask a few questions to prove we have paid enough attention to merit extra-large glassfuls at the tasting which must surely come soon.

It does. The men in our party are keen to emulate the sturdy palates of the locals and down a bit of Anee, the stronger of the two brands made here. Judging by the ensuing coughing and choking, I'd say they've got some work to do. The Anee is very fine - strong, yes, but also clean and smooth. In the less alcoholic Busnel, however, it is easier to detect the calvados hallmarks: the smell of almonds, wood and vanilla together with the woody, fruity flavour. No wonder the Normans are so proud of it.

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