There are no bad apples, at least in Brandt Schisler's world.

Yes, some are pitted and scarred when they collapse to the ground. But those are still suitable for the pigs. And sure, others carry the sort of minor blemishes that keep them from the shelves.

No matter, Schisler found a purpose for these, as well.

Fruits that are equal to gleaming, spotless apples in everything but appearance go toward his Hickory Ridge Orchard apple cider. And one could reasonably argue that the pressing of second hand fruit puts them in their best light.

A sip is more involved than biting into an apple without the crunch. There's a blush of juicy sweetness tugged by the down to earth note from the skin. A bracing sensation – the jab of tart fruit – lends a bright edge.

So, yes, on first impression it is liquid golden delicious (or whatever varieties are involved). Yet as this fresh burst crests, a dense, almost candied sensation drapes over the palate.

It lingers until a brooding impression of pomace emerges on the finish. Through it all, a tingle of fermentation resides.

This is cider in the raw. The folks at Hickory Ridge pick, allow the apples to dry overnight, grind, press and pour.

"Pasteurization changes the flavor," Schisler notes.

The recipe is equally straightforward. He uses whatever is in season, balancing two sweet varieties against one tart.

Because it is raw cider, each bottle includes the press date. Schisler encourages people to finish it off within a few days of pressing or stow the bottle away in a freezer (it will keep for a year).

Raw cider will begin to bubble up and pucker. But that's also a good thing – or as Schisler explains, "any raw product turns into another product."

Hickory Ridge produces an intense yet intricate apple cider vinegar.

It's from the same recipe and process as cider, only this time the juice rests in a barrel for up to two months. Apart from storing the barrel in a cool, dry corner and keeping an eye on its progress, Schisler leaves each batch alone to do its thing.

"We trust the natural yeast," he said.

The result is that of an apple left to the wiles of the outdoors. It becomes quick and piercing, yet wary and reserved – a slashing sour blade with a musty undertone and a glimmer of fall fruit still on the tree.

These are nuanced layers that never quite hold their place under the unyielding zip of vinegar. Even a ripple of spice develops, with a note of pomace on the back of the palate that lingers.

"Ours is in its true form," Schisler pointed out. "Our juice goes directly from juice to vinegar."

Earlier this week the folks at Hickory Ridge picked 26 bushels of ripe apples. One hopes there are plenty with little nicks and bruises.