Incline Cider Company began, improbably, in an Arizona laundry room, where Jordan Zehner and Lesley Shields fermented experiments in fruit, yeast, and wayward hops next to the spin cycle. What started as ambient-temperature fermentations and garage kegerators turned into backyard brainstorms with Jordan’s father, Chris — a wine-industry veteran who recognized that what they were brewing was already better than anything in the grocery cooler. By 2015, the Zehners, bolstered by Teresa, Jodran’s mother, and Lesley’s design and people-savvy, launched Incline as a family-driven leap into the still-nascent craft cider world. Armed with orchards, hops, and decades of distributor know-how, they built ciders that reject syrup and embrace brightness — fruit with backbone, craft with polish, a Northwest brand born from desert laundry and raised into orchard fire.
And now, years later, that experiment has become a full-on cider gospel — bold, bright, and boundary-pushing. Today’s flight is Incline distilled into five pours: one house anchor, one autumn daydream, two tropical detours, and one imperial thunderclap. Call it a Monday syllabus in fruit alchemy, each glass a reminder of how far a laundry-room ferment can climb.
Peaks & Pints Monday Incline Cider Flight: From Laundry to Legend
Incline Cider Basecamp Proctor
6.9% ABV | Dry Apple Cider
Incline’s Basecamp Proctor is more than just a cider — it’s Peaks & Pints’ house pour, our shared orchard anthem, built to anchor the glass with clarity and bite. Pressed from a chorus of Pacific Northwest apples — Fuji, Gala, Honeycrisp, Red Delicious, and Braeburn — it drinks dry, crisp, and bright, a liquid exhale that feels like Yakima sunlight caught in a pint. Collaboration is in its bones, crafted by Incline to live at Peaks all year long, a cider as much about community as it is about fruit. No syrup, no fluff, no apology — just orchard truth, humming on tap until the keg runs dry.
Incline Cider Apple Crisp
6.9% ABV | Spiced Apple Cider
Apple Crisp is less a drink and more a pie-whispering hallucination from the orchard — Washington apples wrapped in cinnamon and graham-cracker warmth until they taste like autumn baked into liquid form. It pours golden and fragrant, like someone opened a farmhouse oven mid-October, steam and spice tumbling out. The finish lingers with apple brightness but whirs with dessert nostalgia, cozy without syrup, decadent without drag. It’s cider that reminds you Incline doesn’t just make fruit sparkle — they make it smolder.
Incline Cider Tangerine
6.9% ABV | Tangerine-Infused Apple Cider
Tangerine is citrus turned electric — Northwest apples laid down like a crisp white sheet, then splashed with ripe tangerine until the whole glass glows like a neon sunset. It smells like orchard fruit flirting with a grove of orange blossoms, and tastes like guava, zest, and tropical brightness crashing into clean apple snap. Semi-dry and tangy, it’s tart enough to keep you awake, juicy enough to keep you thirsty, and smooth enough to vanish too quickly. It’s cider at full radiance — orchard truth colliding with tropic mischief.
Incline Cider Pineapple
6.9% ABV | Pineapple-Infused Apple Cider
Incline’s Pineapple is summer in a tulip glass, unapologetically loud and dripping with tropical excess. Built on a crisp apple base, it roars in with a flood of golden pineapple — juicy, tart, sun-scorched — then softens with just enough sweetness to keep it from going feral. It smells like a beach shack blender at full tilt, tastes like orchard fruit on holiday in Maui, and finishes bright, clean, and dangerously easy to chase. Semi-dry, refreshing, and limited-release, it’s proof Incline knows exactly how to turn Northwest apples into a glass of liquid island mischief.
Incline Cider Imperial Tart Cherry
8.5% ABV | Imperial Cherry Cider
Imperial Tart Cherry is not here to whisper — it’s here to crash through the glass like a ruby meteor. Built on Northwest apples but hijacked by dark-sweet and tart cherry juice, it pours the color of midnight velvet lit by Las Vegas. The first sip is pure cherry thunder — sour snap, lush fruit, a sly kiss of lime — before the imperial weight (8.5%, no less) settles in like a velvet hammer. Bold, dry, audacious, it drinks like orchard fruit gone glam-punk, tart enough to pucker, strong enough to linger, and unafraid to make your Monday blush.
LINK: Peaks & Pints beer and cider cooler inventory
