Cider Mills

[DTWflyer]

Stoney Creek Cider Mill still is somewhat like a real cider mill. They have an orchard in the back where they get their apples, make their cider there, make their greasy donuts there. Its a good place. Its on 32 Mile [[Romeo Rd) between Rochester and Mound Rd.

Blakes up at 34 Mile east of M-53 is like that too I think but I haven't been there in a long time.

[punky1]

Franklin may be the only one left selling un-pasturized cider. It does make a difference. The donuts are to die for...still.

[Baselinepunk]

" Is Parmenter's still running??"

As far as last year it is. The one thing I cannot stand about cider mills are all the bee's getting drunk on garbage juice.

Nothing worse than trying to deal with a loaded Bee.

[reddog289]

I too have heard that Plymouth Orchards is a good bet as Cider Mills go. I think they host alot of field trips also.

[G-DDT]

Franklin may be the only one left selling un-pasturized cider. It does make a difference. The donuts are to die for...still.

When I was a kid, I hated all things gross and organic. I hated granny Applehead dolls my mom liked. I hated my Dad dragging me to Greenfield Village to smell horse apples baking in the hot sun and feeling sick to my stomach as teams of fife and drum marchers sent ripples of nausea through my little body [[I hated the creepy ads they ran too with the music boxes and the dessicated toy horses coming out of the shadows). I especially hated the creepy, grinding cobwebby wheel at Franklin.
I lived in a false dream world of clean silvery Bauhausian Star Wars-designed Calvin Kleinish 1980's S.N.L. liquor ads and robots turning into vehicles. I dreamed of living in a pent house suite with a beige rug and pipe and leather furniture. What a neurotic lie I bought into.
The more I smoked grass [[which I eventually ditched) and got into better forms of herbalism, the more I appreciated organic things. The more I saw things I liked getting cheapened, corrupted, and standardized and realized older works of artists were better than new, the more I appreciated old wine over new. I hated when things of purpose or substance got completely swept aside callously [[or needlessly) and in their entirety when a new style or making a cheap joke took precedence.
When I saw how Franklin changed that wheel into the very thing I would've liked as an idiot kid, I was appalled. It was sanitized. Banal. All grimy history erased from it. Even if the dumb wheel served no purpose, what little it had as a reminder-that we got to sometimes force ourselves to reflect on the crusty, archaic, and ofttimes unavoidable aspects of nature and history that brought us here-got bleached out.
I changed and so did the wheel in counterpoint.
That's my cider testimony.