Pear cider is globally thriving – whatever the major brands might say – writes Adam Wells
One of the more eyebrow-raising moments in the cider world last year was when, asked the somewhat leading question of whether perry was dead in an interview for The Grocer, Westons’ then head of business development Darryl Hinksman replied that it was.
The question was asked in the wake of Westons rebranding its own perry offering as Westons Pear and seeing an admittedly eye-catching 488% year-on-year increase in sales across the resulting period (NIQ April 2025). Hinksman suggested consumers didn’t know what ‘perry’ meant, that his team was constantly having to explain it to customers, and that the decision – accompanied by a sweetening of the product – was motivated by a desire to reach a younger audience.
The intensity of the response to this article within the global craft cider community was enormous, with rebuttals coming from all corners of the UK and from as far away as the US. Writing on the cider-review.com website, Germany-based cider and perrymaker and historian Barry Masterson commented: “To suggest that ‘people didn’t know what perry meant’ and that the term needed to be retired is not only dismissive of consumer intelligence, but also of the dedicated growers, producers and enthusiasts who have championed and preserved perry for generations.” The Three Counties Cider & Perry Association meanwhile penned their own press release and campaign entitled Perry is Alive, including comments from cidermakers, writers, enthusiasts and retailers.
It is fair to point out that perry is a relatively niche drink. Where cider of one sort or another is essentially ubiquitous in English pubs, bars and restaurants, perry is seldom encountered outside specialists and independents. While there are certainly some enormous brands which label their product ‘perry’ – Lambrini and Babycham being comfortably the biggest – it certainly doesn’t reside in the national consciousness to the degree that its apple-based cousin does.
The other important thing to point out at this stage is that, as far as the British government is concerned (and indeed the governments of virtually every country in which perry is made other than the US) there is no difference between ‘perry’ and ‘pear cider’. They are legally defined as exactly the same drink. Whether Westons, or smaller artisanal perrymakers such as Oliver’s or Ross-on-Wye, choose to label their bottles ‘perry’ or ‘pear cider’ makes no difference whatsoever to the liquid inside. (Contrary to some suggestions, ‘pear cider’ is not just apple cider with added pear juice or pear flavouring.) It is entirely a matter of preference – and if Westons feels it can more effectively sell its product if it is labelled Westons Pear, it is completely entitled to do so.
But to suggest that perry – or ‘poiré’, as it is called in France – is ‘dead’ is, I think, misleading. Not only in the sense, as Masterson suggests, that it is somewhat dismissive of a term and tradition that has been recorded in this country for hundreds of years – and elsewhere for hundreds more; but also in the more immediately tangible sense that perry – both the drink and the term – are arguably in ruder global health at this point in time than they have ever been before.
Cards on the table – I’m obviously biased. In 2024 I published the world’s first consumer-focused book on perry – Perry: A Drinker’s Guide. For the past few years I have led or assisted with the Three Counties annual Perry Day. I’ve visited and spoken to hundreds of perrymakers around the world, judged international competitions, led dozens of perry tastings and, as of last year, I’ve even made a bit myself. (You can bank on it being labelled ‘perry’ if bottles ever come to light.)
But it is that very bias – that breadth of visiting and tasting – that has convinced me of perry’s growing health, importance and recognition. Before writing my book I felt I had a good idea of how widely perry was made – it turned out there were countries and continents that had perry producers I’d never heard of. Not only that, but they are making some seriously good perries.
Broad reach
Outside the world’s major perry regions of the UK’s Three Counties, France’s Domfrontais in Normandy and Mostviertel in Austria, I have encountered perry from dozens of European nations from Italy to Estonia. I’ve had perry from Canada and the US, from Japan, Australia and New Zealand, South Africa, Mexico and Chile. Each country draws on its own expertise, orchards, drinks-making traditions and varieties of pear – from tannic perry pears in Herefordshire, France and central Europe to vibrant, refreshing culinary pear perries elsewhere.
I’ve been privileged to speak to and taste with an international audience of over 100 perry lovers at the world’s biggest cider conference, the US’s Cidercon. That year it was held in Oregon – a state in which the pear is the official fruit – and perries are made from dessert pears, from British and other European perry pear varieties and fruit from unidentified wild trees foraged from native forests.
Perry is, and likely always will be, a small presence in the world of drinks more broadly. It may well be that macro brands such as Westons find it easier to sell their product to a wider audience by changing the name to ‘pear’ (though Westons Pear lags some way behind both Babycham and Lambrini, both of which embrace the ‘perry’ term).
But not only is perry alive and thriving around the world – making new friends, inspiring new makers and developing new styles and flavours along the way – I believe the very term itself is important. Not merely for its weight of historic and cultural significance, but for the specific identity that the name burnishes the drink with. As ‘pear cider’ it is merely one fruit option among many – with scant consideration for such things as pear variety and provenance. As ‘perry’ it embraces an ever-broadening, ever more fascinating world of flavour, complexity and relevance. One in which, far from being dead, it has never been more alive.
