Toast, Trees and a Wassailing Queen: An Ancient English Ritual Is Back

A burst of steam hisses into the air as a red-hot poker is thrust into a bowl of cider. A woman adorned with garlands uses a long fork to pierce a piece of toast, then carefully places the offering among the branches of a tree. Amid the cheers of the crowd, the torch-lit ceremony culminates with gunfire ringing through the crisp winter night.https://svtoday.org/

For most of the year, Sheppy’s farm in Bradford-on-Tone, located in the West of England, relies on cutting-edge machinery to care for its 22,000 apple trees and produce over half a million gallons of cider annually.

But on one special evening each January, the farm abandons modern farming methods in favor of a centuries-old tradition known as “wassailing.” During this ritual, the apple trees are blessed for the upcoming year, evil spirits are banished, and cider is joyously consumed by hundreds of attendees.

Originating at least as far back as the 13th century, wassailing—derived from the Old English phrase “waes hael,” meaning “good health”—had nearly vanished by the 1990s.

However, the custom has experienced a revival in recent years, particularly in the West of England, fueled by a growing interest in folklore, a renewed appreciation for the countryside, and the desire to inject some fun into the bleak winter months.

“Wassailing was almost lost for a long time, but now it’s experiencing a massive resurgence,” said Louisa Sheppy, co-owner of Sheppy’s, a cider-making company with over 200 years of history, as she prepared for the seventh consecutive year of hosting a wassail on their farm (one of many such events in the region this winter).

While Ms. Sheppy is not particularly superstitious and doesn’t believe, as tradition suggests, that the success of the year’s apple crop depends on the ceremony, she values the event for the way it promotes cider and brings over 400 paying guests together to enjoy folk dances by Morris Men and an energetic barn dance.

Before the festivities begin, guests participate in a song directed at two trees, asking for an abundant harvest of apples. The evening’s “wassail queen” (who symbolizes fertility and plenty) then tastes warm cider, soaks a piece of toast in it, and pours the remainder around the tree roots.

Crowned with ivy, mistletoe, hellebore, and rosemary, the queen uses a long toasting fork to place the soaked bread into the tree’s branches—an act meant to attract robins, believed to be harbingers of spring—before the air is filled with the sound of shotguns, banishing any evil spirits.

Although the ceremony ran smoothly, it wasn’t without its challenges for Sheppy’s 2025 wassail queen, Em Sibley. Drinking the cider was delightful (“Oh my god, it really is sweet and yummy,” she exclaimed) and pouring it around the tree was easy. However, the tricky part was soaking the toast without making it too soggy and then delicately placing it in the tree’s branches without letting it fall.

“You don’t want to mess it up—just in case,” Ms. Sibley joked, referring to the potential cosmic consequences of failing at a ritual meant to ensure a good harvest.

“If things go wrong, and the harvest is poor, and we don’t have as many apples as usual, you don’t want to be the one thinking, ‘Oh no, it could have been the toast!’” she added.

Wassailing was traditionally held around Christmas or New Year’s, but now it typically occurs around January 18 or later.

The ceremony has evolved over time, according to Professor Ronald Hutton, a history professor at the University of Bristol. The first recorded wassails date back to the 13th century, when a large bowl of alcohol would be passed around among friends standing in a circle. One person would drink and call “waes hael” (“be well”), and the others would respond with “drinc hael” (“drink well”), turning into a medieval drinking game.

“You’d pass the wassail bowl around and take a sip until the host decided it was enough—or people just collapsed, and the last one standing was the winner,” said Professor Hutton, author of a book on English folklore.

By the 16th century, wassailing was firmly associated with agriculture, with farmers singing and blessing hives, crops, and livestock in hopes of a bountiful harvest.

Interest in wassailing faded in the 20th century, said Professor Hutton, “with advances in horticulture, fertilizers, and a better understanding of farming, as well as the decline in belief that singing to trees or fields could make a difference.”

Mike Highfield, 64, a Morris dancer and master of ceremonies at Sheppy’s, welcomed the tradition’s revival. “We should celebrate our culture because cider was once the wine of England,” he said, noting that the event brings people together over a drink, which typically has an alcohol content ranging from 4 to 7.5 percent, with the exception of the lighter versions.

“Once you let your hair down and shout at an apple tree, you start talking to people because your inhibitions fall away,” he added.

Matthew Mudge, 62, a church musician from Cardiff, Wales, who had long wanted to attend a wassail, said, “It’s a fantastic tradition. I’m sorry it took me so long to get here,” sipping his cider after the ceremony. “All wassails involve drinking, and perhaps that’s why they’ve survived for six centuries.”

In Midsomer Norton, about 50 miles away, around 100 people gathered for a local wassail to bless three small apple trees in the park. Instead of a queen, children helped place pieces of toast in the branches. Trevor Hughes, 70, a Morris dancer who led the ceremony, explained that the tradition had never disappeared in the village.

“We’ve always done wassails here at this time of year. It might not have been widely advertised, but local events kept it alive,” he said, adding that recently “there’s been an explosion of wassails because it’s such a fun way to let loose.”

Despite the undeniable joy of wassailing, does anyone truly believe it impacts the harvest?

“The rational side of me says ‘of course not, how could it?’” said Professor Hutton, who spends every January singing to his own apple trees over a few drinks. “But,” he added with a smile, “my tree didn’t bear anything until I started wassailing it. Since then, it’s had bumper crops every year.”