Witches Brew: Mulled Cider with Claret, Sage, and Maple

An old-soul recipe for the long nights ahead #CountdowntoHalloween

My friend Beth wrote and asked me for my mulled cider recipe, and it made me laugh because I’ve never actually written it down. I’ve just done it, year after year. But the moment she asked, I thought, well, that would make a fine post, because this cider isn’t just a recipe; it’s a ritual.

There’s something about the scent of mulled cider that belongs to October, and especially All- Hallows eve as if the air itself leans in to listen. Every year I make a great pot of it, and by the end of the afternoon the house smells like apple, spice, and a touch of claret. It’s the kind of scent that makes you want to stay home forever.

I start with fresh cider, rich and cloudy. If I’m in the mood, I add a bottle of claret. I love how the red wine and golden cider merge, sweet and tannic, like the season itself.

Into a clean stocking foot (yes, a real one), I tuck my spices: cinnamon, allspice, juniper berries, star anise, cloves, and a few fresh sage leaves. The sage gives the cider a low, green hum, as if you’d wandered through an herb garden before dusk.

A pat of butter melts in as it simmers, making it silky, and I sweeten it not with brown sugar or honey, but with maple syrup, the forest’s sweetness. It simmers all afternoon, never boiling, and near the end I add sliced oranges, rind and all. By the time it’s ready, the whole house smells like harvest fires and warm memories.

A Sip of Folklore

Cider has long been a drink of blessings and good fortune. In old English custom, the wassail was a midwinter ceremony of toasting the apple trees themselves. The tradition usually takes place in January, often on Twelfth Night or Old Twelfth Night, when the apple trees are still bare and dreaming, and people gather to wake them for another year of fruiting.

“Waes hael,” they said, meaning be whole, be well. Farmers and villagers would carry jugs of spiced cider out into the orchards, pour it at the roots, hang bits of toast on the branches, and sing to coax the next year’s harvest. It was both magic and gratitude — a thank-you to the land and a promise to care for it in return.

In that spirit, every pot of mulled cider feels like a small offering. You stir, you wait, you breathe it in, and the air changes.

The Windesphere Witches Favorite Brew

A fragrant, slow-simmering brew that fills the house with warmth and whispers of woodsmoke and spice.

Ingredients

• 1 gallon fresh apple cider

• 1 bottle claret (optional, but heavenly)

• 2 cups pure maple syrup (to taste) add more if you desire more sweetness.

• 2 cups of strongly brewed Lapsang Souchong tea ( for the smoky flavor!)

• 3–4 cinnamon sticks or 2 tablespoons cracked cinnamon

• 1 tablespoon whole allspice

• 1 tablespoon juniper berries

• 2–3 star anise pods

• 6–8 whole cloves

• 10- 12 fresh sage leaves

• 3 bay leaves

• 1 orange, sliced (rind on)

• 2 good pats of butter

• Optional: a pinch of nutmeg

• Optional for serving: whiskey, for a bit of mischief

Instructions

1. Pour the cider (and claret, if using) into a large pot or slow cooker.

2. In a clean stocking foot or piece of cheesecloth, place the cinnamon, allspice, juniper berries, star anise, cloves, sage leaves, and nutmeg if using. Tie securely and drop it into the cider.

3. Add the pats of butter and the maple syrup. Stir gently.

4. Set the crock pot on high and let it gently simmer for about six hours, never boiling. If you make it on the stove, it will take about a hour of gentle simmering. Your home will smell like a medieval festival.

5. Toward the end, add the orange slices and the tea. Let them infuse for the last hour or so.

6. Serve steaming in mugs, with a splash of whiskey for those who like a little mischief in their cider.

There’s nothing fancy here, just cider, spice, maple, herbs and time. Somehow it feels like a kind of spell, one that works best when the wind has a bite and the nights grow long.

And to my friend Beth, who asked for this recipe and gave me the nudge to finally write it down: this one’s for you, and for everyone who still believes in the small magic of sharing something warm from the heart.

May your house be filled with good company, good scent, and the quiet joy of the season.

Until next time, may your hearth stay warm, your larder full, and your evenings slow and golden.

A new monthly letter is coming soon for paid subscribers—a quiet reflection from the farm, written by hand and heart.

Love, Beth