Cider?! I don’t even know her.

Whoohooooo! I don’t even know what that means!! I just drank 10 different kinds of hard ciders!!! I am wearing a cardboard 12-pack container on my head!!!

Just kidding. About the 12-pack container. I did just drink 10 different kinds of hard ciders, though. Not full bottles. Taste-test sized portions (4oz maybe?) with seconds of my favorites. So I am typing this a bit … loosely. Thank God for spellcheck and the little green lines that appear under my sentences when they are not complete.

Why did I embark on this dangerous endeavor on this lovely October afternoon, on a Tuesday, my impressionable 10-year-old son sitting next to me at the kitchen table doing his math homework?

1) Seasonality: It’s autumn. Apples are ripe for the picking. We should drink them.

2) Trend-spotting: Apple cider is blowing up this year as sales are booming and new companies are launching the fermented fruit beverage is “hot”, even when – especially when – it’s served ice-cold.

3) As is the root source of so many of my endeavors: patriotism. Apple cider is as American as it gets.

In his wonderful 2001 book The Botany of Desire, horticultural journalist Michael Pollan told the story of the horticultural evangelist John Chapman, AKA Johnny Appleseed, and its importance to a young, expanding nation. Sowing apple orchards was the way the original settlers tamed the frontier:

In rural areas cider took the place not only of wine and beer, but of coffee and tea, juice, and even water. Indeed, in many places, cider was consumed more freely than water, even by children, since it was arguably the healthier – because more sanitary – beverage.

And it was all hard cider back then, since there was no refrigeration to keep the sweet cider sweet (and soft). The bacteria-killing alcohol was what kept it potable.

OK. Enough drunk history. (As if there could ever be enough drunk history.) Let’s get into the results of my taste test.

Dave Bry’s cider party. Photograph: Dave Bry

I’ve never been a great fan of cider, to be honest. I usually find it too sweet. I’ll take a Miller High Life (in the summer) or a Guinness (in the winter) any day. But here are the 10 brands of apple cider I drank today – eight American, two classic “old world” styles for comparison sake – rated on a scale from one to five.

Angry Orchard Apple Ginger (Ohio): 2 stars

Yuck! Sure enough, this is what I don’t like about cider. Much too sweet, barely any bite, and not nearly enough of the ginger I was hoping to taste. I had imagined this might go in the direction of my beloved Switchel. It did not. Surely, it’s a sign of decline that this stuff has become so popular with Americans. It’s like a Mott’s juice box for grownups.

Woodchuck Amber (Vermont): 2 stars

Same. Buoyed by more sourness, it’s more complex. But it’s sweet and dull without any of the funk that, I’ve come to learn, brings a cider to my liking.

Austin Eastciders Texas Honey Cider (Texas): 2.5 stars

This is less unpleasant. Mild, with plenty of honey, it’s still too sweet for my tastes. But maybe, on a hot night in Texas, after some barbecue, suitable for dessert.

Doc’s Draft (New York): 3 stars

Sharp, with a nice big fizz and aptly appley flavor. But maybe that’s the problem. I don’t love apples, to tell you the truth. I think its funny how everyone says it’s so difficult to compare them to oranges. I’ll compare them right now: oranges are better. Oh, except Granny Smith. Man, there’s nothing like a crisp, cold, super-tart Granny Smith apple. Smear a dollop of peanut-butter on there. Mmmm. But that’s not what this tastes like.

JK’s Scrumpy Orchard Gate Gold (Michigan): 3 stars

Wow! This will warm you up, put a little hair on your chest. A big, bold, boozy punch – I detected what tasted almost like whiskey in this one. Or, I guess, that antifreeze applejack.

Magners (Ireland): 3 stars

Strong, bracing, and with – most interestingly – a footy, funky tang that hints of the chemistry behind the fermentation process. (When, in the absence of oxygen, sugar molecules transform into acids, gases or alcohol.) Nevertheless, still a bit too sweet. Stupid apples.

Downeast Cider House (Massachusetts): 3 stars

Sweet, sour, also a little funky, this Boston cider is the most complex so far. It tastes strongly of apples, but not so much like apples you’d eat. It tastes like … crab apples?

Crispin Brownslane Classic English Dry Cider (England): 3.5 stars

Ahh. Much lighter and much less sweet. (Made from “bittersweet” cider apples, it says on the label.) Dry to be sure, and as funkless as Morrissey, this I might like to substitute for a mineraly white wine at a picnic. A picnic on the moors, perhaps. I think I would rather enjoy that!

Farnum Hill Extra Dry Cider (New Hampshire): 4 stars

Wheeew! That’s sour! Funky and sour and bitter not even a little bit sweet. This makes your mouth squinch up, it makes you purse your lips like Kim Kardashian posing for a selfie. It’s almost harsh, almost unpleasant on the front end. But there’s something very pleasant indeed about the finish. It’s very refreshing. I’m discovering a latent strain of sadomasochism in myself during this taste test. This is good.

Nine Pin Cider Works (New York): 4.5 stars

Not sweet, not sour. But big funk, real funk, Sly & the Family Stone funk. Definitely tastes like turned fruit, like something you’re not supposed to put in your mouth. Like an old gym sock, even. But … in a strangely enticing way. Like the most delicious gym sock you ever put in your mouth. (Oh, man, I just remembered Kim Cattrall in Porky’s.) This is so weird. Is it poisonous? And yet, I’m drawn back to it again and again. I pour myself another glass. I could get used to this.

Rating system: from best to worst

5 stars: British “The Office”

4 stars: American “The Office”

3 stars: Working in an office

2 stars: Going to the doctor’s office

1 star: Getting called to the principal’s office