In the last few weeks, I've had the opportunity to work at a couple new farmers markets. First, in New York, I switched up from my Union Square experience to help out at the Ft. Greene market in Brooklyn. By the end of the day, I realized that having me start at the Union Square market a few weeks earlier was like having Mr. Miyagi throw Ralph Macchio into a UFC fight on his first day. In contrast to Union Square, Ft. Greene was a walk in the daisies. Thankfully, I was ignorant enough that I didn't know what I was getting into at Union Square. I just took the punches as they came. I fully admit now that starting at Union Square was a great way for me to learn and gain confidence; and perhaps I would have never given myself enough credit to knowingly put myself in such a situation. Maybe that is the best way to teach me...throw me to the wolves.
There were definitely crowds at Ft. Greene, but nothing like the constant flow at Union Square. Even the people at the market were more easy going, and there was plenty of time to chat with the regulars and other customers. Laura, who usually runs that market alone (she's a pro), was great to work with and patiently tutored me on things I still can't help but screw up. All in all it was far less pressure. I'm getting better at eyeballing the cheese and cutting the proper weights. But the tall, thicker blocks are still my nemesis. I blame it on the knives, but nobody else seems to have the same problem of cutting the most crooked, jacked up pieces ever. I suppose I just need more practice.
That following Thursday I went to the West Hartford market. The mid-week Thursday trip made for a very diverse workday. I arrived to help with the morning's cheese pressing and clean up, left to work at the market, and returned in time to help hoop the new batch of cheese. I love a good variety pack.
We were testing the waters in West Hartford. The market there has been around for years, but it was our first trip out there to try to reach the western Connecticut population. Apparently people on one side of the Connecticut River often don't get around to experiencing awesome things "on the other side." With a state as small as Connecticut, I thought that was surprising. I drive halfway across the state just to get the best ice cream ever and twice as far in the opposite direction for the best pizza ever. Then again, I'm a fatty. I suppose when I was in D.C., I would often refuse to make a few extra metro stops to go out in the Virginia suburbs because of the perceived inconvenience. ... Oh wait, no, it was 'cause Arlington sucks.
Anyway, the market was set up in a parking lot between a residential street and the main commercial strip lined with small, well-manicured boutiques. The crowd was much smaller than any of the New York markets, but fairly steady especially around lunch time. The market only runs from 11-3 during the week. There were only about six or seven other vendors, so it was easy to get to know the other farmers and merchants. We were the only cheese vendor there for Thursday. Many of the customers were downright giddy to see a new cheese vendor and promised to tell their friends. Much like Ft. Greene, the West Hartford crowd was much more casual and had more time to be chatty, which helped us give out plenty of samples and reach out to a new customer base.
I went to the West Hartford market with Tim, who I met for the first time and who has recently started to help out with Connecticut markets. He had only worked one or two other markets, so I was put in the unusual position of actually having had more experience. It was a bit odd to be the person directing the intricacies of set-up and clean-up. Tim was very good at selling cheese and comfortable with the cutting etc., and by no means did I know much more than him. But put together, I think we formed 1.25 to 1.33 experienced people.
My favorite customers were two young kids. Both boys between the age of 8 and 12...who loved them some cheese...including the stanky and the strong stuff! I first made eye contact with their mom, but it was clear that the boys were running the show. It went something like this:
Two kids walk up holding berries from previous stand.
Us: Hey what've you got there?
Older Boy: Gooseberries
(Me too myself: Gooseberries? That sounds made up. Oh those crazy kids. Nom nom, these Gooseberries taste like Gooseberries and these Snozberries taste like Snozberries.)
After kids politely and very articulately explain what Gooseberries taste like...
Us to kids (and tangentially to mom): Do you guys want to try some cheese?
Boys: Oh yes please, we love cheese!
Us (knowing kids usually like mild cheese): Well we have some of our younger cheeses, including our most popular Brid...
Younger Boy politely interrupting: ...Actually, may we please try the blue cheese
(Me to myself: Say what?! Are these kids messin' with my head? Son, you better not be acting like a hero just to try this and end up puking all over the cases...)
Us: Wow, ohhhkay, usually young kids don't like blue cheese. So that's refreshing.
Older Boy: Oh yes, we love it; we grew up on cheese
Mom: Yeah they have weird and often expensive taste for kids; they'll eat steak but not canned tuna fish sandwiches.
(Me to myself: Now that's what I'm talkin bout. Baller eaters and daring foodies...with manners! I want these kids to train any future kids I might have on how to totally rule at life from the get-go.).
Boys to each other after sampling cheese (older boy suddenly very wide-eyed like he just walked into a candy store): MMMM that's so good! That has a great aftertaste! Kinda earthy. Well all cheese has great aftertaste though.
Me to myself: Seriously, are these kids for real?
They walked off with a big hunk of blue, after unsuccessfully trying to talk their mother into also buying a piece of the only other strong cheese we had available (which of course they also loved).
Going forward, this market will likely only be staffed with one person because it's so calm and lightly trafficked. Tim will be the person to regularly fill that role, but on weeks that he can't, I will work the market and drive the cheese van. Alone. You can be certain that I will be soiling my pants if or when that responsibility is given to me.
What's that? Do I have pictures of either of these two markets? Umm. Oh hey look more baby cows!
And Now We're Back
Hello friends! Apologies for my longer than normal hiatus from Cheesy Street. June has been a crazy month with several weekend trips in and out of Connecticut. Now I'm back, and July should be much more cheese-focused. Since we last talked, I've experienced a few new things on the farm.
First off, a few weeks ago I cultured the milk. On my own. I know this doesn't sound like a big deal. But until now I've only observed or participated as a collateral player for the major steps...i.e., the steps that can screw up the entire batch. I helped add rennet and cultures before, but I never measured, calculated or diluted anything to the exact requirements of the recipe. I just poured it out of the bucket or cup. This time, I did it all the steps by myself (with a knowledgeable cheesemaker present in the room in case of disaster of course). I calculated the exact amount of cultures needed and tapped on the bags of powder until the exact number of grams fell into the cup. One overzealous tap and I would have ruined the entire cup full of cultures. One inaccurate calculation and the cheese wouldn't acidify correctly. I'm sure that the occasion was so harrowingly dramatic in my mind only. But still, I've never had 1500 pounds of milk depending on my precision before!
Second, I helped with the one of the few tasks in the aging cave that I hadn't experienced yet: poking holes in the blue cheese. I used a T-shaped tool -- it was a sharp metal poker with a manual corkscrew handle. In a nutshell, I had to stab each wheel of blue with a hole every half to quarter inch on the top, bottom, and sides. The stabbing allows oxygen inside the cheese so blue mold can develop. The more holes, the more oxygen, the more blue and the more flavor. The only thing of note here: it's a great arm workout and a swell way to get out aggression. It's actually pretty tiring and slow-going. The cheese doesn't give easily and my arms tired out after one shelf of cheese.
In other news, all this heavy lifting, stirring, and stabbing has easily replaced my weights work out. I'm not sure if I'm getting swoler, but I'm definitely not getting weaker. After I leave here, I might have to make some young wheels on my own. That way I can do some curls at home while they age.
I haven't had the opportunity to take many new pictures, so here's a few pictures of a baby cow. They're blurry, but you try keeping the camera still when you're jumping up and down and squealing at adorable baby animals. Oh hey baby cow, what's up...
First off, a few weeks ago I cultured the milk. On my own. I know this doesn't sound like a big deal. But until now I've only observed or participated as a collateral player for the major steps...i.e., the steps that can screw up the entire batch. I helped add rennet and cultures before, but I never measured, calculated or diluted anything to the exact requirements of the recipe. I just poured it out of the bucket or cup. This time, I did it all the steps by myself (with a knowledgeable cheesemaker present in the room in case of disaster of course). I calculated the exact amount of cultures needed and tapped on the bags of powder until the exact number of grams fell into the cup. One overzealous tap and I would have ruined the entire cup full of cultures. One inaccurate calculation and the cheese wouldn't acidify correctly. I'm sure that the occasion was so harrowingly dramatic in my mind only. But still, I've never had 1500 pounds of milk depending on my precision before!
Second, I helped with the one of the few tasks in the aging cave that I hadn't experienced yet: poking holes in the blue cheese. I used a T-shaped tool -- it was a sharp metal poker with a manual corkscrew handle. In a nutshell, I had to stab each wheel of blue with a hole every half to quarter inch on the top, bottom, and sides. The stabbing allows oxygen inside the cheese so blue mold can develop. The more holes, the more oxygen, the more blue and the more flavor. The only thing of note here: it's a great arm workout and a swell way to get out aggression. It's actually pretty tiring and slow-going. The cheese doesn't give easily and my arms tired out after one shelf of cheese.
In other news, all this heavy lifting, stirring, and stabbing has easily replaced my weights work out. I'm not sure if I'm getting swoler, but I'm definitely not getting weaker. After I leave here, I might have to make some young wheels on my own. That way I can do some curls at home while they age.
I haven't had the opportunity to take many new pictures, so here's a few pictures of a baby cow. They're blurry, but you try keeping the camera still when you're jumping up and down and squealing at adorable baby animals. Oh hey baby cow, what's up...
Bigger Responsibilities
A couple of weeks ago, I was the face of Cato Corner. I was the person running the cheese shop at the farm on Sunday. Leslie, who is usually in charge of the shop, was out of town, so I filled in for the day.
In sum, I was in charge of selling all this cheese. By myself.
Whereas at the New York farmers market I was unable to escape from customers until I physically stepped away from the tent, at the farm there were several lulls during cheese shop hours. A lack of foot traffic and smaller population will do that. Still, there were periods when I was trying to serve multiple groups at the same time, which was tricky to do all by my lonesome. Usually there is someone else working in the back in the cheeseroom who can help if things get really crazy out front. I did call in reinforcements briefly, but Sundays tend to be pretty calm.
When I was recently asked what I like the most about my cheese internship and what I'm least crazy about, I realized I hadn't even addressed this question. As to my least favorite, I reiterated a few of the points I made four posts ago about the general toll it can take on my body. There were several things on the list of what I like the most. I like the routine of working on packages; I like nurturing the fruits of my labor in the aging room; I like the zen-like nature of making cheese and carefully following the cheesemaking process. Still, I think what I like most is working with customers in sales. The New York market was intense and somewhat terrifying, but I loved it. I enjoyed talking to people about cheese and making their day with the perfect purchase. I had never done any kind of direct sales before so it was somewhat foreign to me. And I'll admit, I was a bit insecure and conscious of looking and sounding like an idiot. But overall people are great, and if you're product is good, you don't have time to worry about such things because you're too busy selling. Working the cheese shop is a much more relaxed version of the same pleasure. It was nice to actually have time to talk to and learn about the people who came by.
Early on there were a couple of children who came into the shop, which was relevant to a previous post about palates. For some reason, these kids were awesome and wanted to try all the cheeses and actively participated in telling their parents what to buy. I was dumbfounded. Not only did they disprove the theory about kids' weak palates, but they also knew a thing or two about good food. Yet, another customer (who hated the Hooligan) had a very wise thing to say about cheese: It's all delicious, there are just different types of delicious to different people. (I guess unless you hate cheese.) It's true. I'd have one person come in and ask to sample everything except the blue cheeses and stinky cheese. Then I'd have another person demand the strongest blue or the runniest Hooligan that assaulted even my fairly strong palate. Yet, they all drove out of their way on a weekend to a random farm in Connecticut to buy cheese. Ahh cheese. The uniting force for all people. Cheese, the soccer of foods.
I was secretly in awe of the customers who would come in and buy an impressive amount of cheese. Entire wheels of Hooligan. One pound slices of five types of cheese. I needed to act professionally and most of all not scare away the customers, but I really just wanted to high-five or chest bump everyone who asked for various giant slices. What, three-quarters of a pound, but I'm cutting these too small? That's right! Up top! Game time, you get after that cheese!!
It made me feel a little inadequate. Compared to them, I was a cheese weakling. Shocking. Maybe I need to put my man pants on and up my cheese game.
Daily Details, Part 3: Cheesemaking
I've saved it for last, but everything starts in the cheese room. Cheesemaking is a carefully calibrated process that determines how the cheese will behave during aging. So if something is slightly off at the early stages -- a pH or temperature too high or too low -- the effects aren't immediately noticeable, but down the road that cheese is going to come home with tattoos all over its face and a bad addiction to meth ... or it'll just taste funny. After you pull it out of the vat, all cheese looks the same and has the same mild, sweet flavor in the curd. Unwanted variations during the make process will impact the cheese as aging occurs, and can often lead to bitter flavors and undesirable textures in the cheese you're aiming for at the end of the line. Early mistakes can occasionally be calibrated by adjusting steps towards the end of the making process or in the aging environment. On a few rare occasions, unexpected variations can even lead to a new delicious cheese.
4) Cheeseroom--Where cheese is born:
The careful cleaning and sanitation steps I described from my first week are always performed before and after the cheese make in the exact same routine. Everyone works together to clean the equipment, molds, vat, press, table, floors, and walls. The vat is sanitized before the milk gets pumped into the vat from the bulk tank. The bulk tank, which is in the room on the other side of the cheese room wall, is also cleaned and sanitized before and after it receives the milk for storage. While the cheese is being made in the vat, all people handling the cheese are "scrubbed in" (hands and arms washed with soap, and then dipped in chlorine solution along with gloves). All the molds and surfaces are sanitized in anticipation for hooping and pressing. We also splash chlorine solution on our aprons because sometimes a balancing act is required with the bigger wheels. It took a few weeks, but I thankfully don't need constant reminders about what I can and can't touch anymore.
The cheese vat holds over 3000 lbs of milk. Cato Corner averages about 52,000 lbs of cheese production per year, so about 1,000 pounds per week. The size of any yield depends on the type of cheese, the season, and the size and moisture level of the curd required to make a particular cheese. Summer milk is lower in butter fat than winter milk, and it is also yields a yellower curd and cheese because of the beta carotene in the grass feed during summer.
Milk is pumped from the milking parlor in the barn into the bulk tank during milkings twice a day (see left). It is stored in the bulk tank until cheesemaking days, when it is pumped through pipes into the vat in the adjoining cheese room. State regulations may vary, but most cheesemaker will need to perform an antibiotic test to ensure that no antibiotics have passed through to the milk if any cows are being treated. Many cheesemakers will also keep samples of the milk from each batch as record-keeping or to send to labs for further periodic testing.
After the milk is pumped, it reaches a certain temperature in accordance with the recipe for the type of cheese. The temperature of the milk, and later the curd, is controlled by the vat's double-boiler type system. The vat is a giant metal tub with a hollow jacket area around it. Hot water is pumped through the jacket, which heats the vat, and thereby the curd. After heating to the recipe's desired temperature, the starter culture and rennet are added. The starter culture creates flavor during aging and eats the lactose, thereby dropping the pH. Depending on the strain, the cultures are activated and/or killed by certain temperatures. So, keeping track of the desired temperatures is critical. Different starters create different flavors and pH levels, and each cheese uses its own combination of strains. Starters are microscopic bacteria cultures housed in a simple powder substance and sprinkled into the vat (see right). The rennet is an enzyme in liquid-form that works to coagulate the milk into curd (see left). Rennet is very fragile and can be killed by chlorine, so it's important to be careful with the sanitizing solutions.
After a certain amount of time, we use a knife to test the vat to make sure a solid curd gel mass has been formed by the rennet. Then the entire vat is cut at once with large square wire cutters (see left). As I mentioned from my first day, I'm usually not the one in charge of doing this. First, Mark is the expert at perfectly cutting the curd. Second, the pressure from the weight of the curd is so great that I'm physically held back by the curd as if we are in an arm wrestling match that I'm losing horribly.
The curd, which is now separated from the whey, is stirred by two to three of us by hand and by giant metal rake. The curd is also heated to whatever the temperature the cheese requires by pumping more hot water through the vat's jacket. For some harder cheese temperatures can reach over 100 degrees. Then, the curd settles, i.e. sits there untouched, for ten minutes. Depending on the type of cheese, the whey is drained to a certain level and the curd is washed by adding hot water back to the whey. Draining and washing clears out some of the lactose, thereby removing the starter cultures' food and slowing down the pH drop.
After some more mixing, stirring, and settling, the whey is drained again. This time all the whey is drained...all the way, ha. A strainer is placed on the vat to catch the curd. As the vat is emptying, we begin to hoop the cheese, with the exception of blue cheese which is salted and drained completely before hooping. Hooping might more accurately be called scooping. We scoop up the curds in small nets and pour them into the molds, which take many shapes and sizes. The big 25-pound wheels are made in large metal molds, while the smaller wheels are in white plastic molds. All the molds have holes similar to a colander, which allows for the drainage of excess whey (see top right, tiny holes visible at bottom of metal mold). The molds are flipped multiple times to ensure the wheels are evenly formed and the desired amount of moisture is removed. With the exception of soft, moist cheeses, the cheese wheels are then pressed in an air press between 15 to 45 minutes per side to drain more whey and smooth out the wheel. (air press picture to bottom right, which also shows red hand-held pH meter readily accessible on top). The next morning, the wheels get a second pressing and are immediately taken down to the brine.
During the entire make, each step is guided by timing, temperatures and pH level--each varies depending on the cheese. A pH meter is a critical tool for cheesemakers. The pH curve of the make process determines how the bacteria acts during aging, how it will taste, and how moist it will be. Therefore, careful notes are kept on the pH readings, the pressing times, the amount of cultures and rennet used and when they were added, as well as other notable observations such as any variations in the curd. If there is a variation with flavors once the cheese is aged, careful notes help the cheesemaker look back at all the variables to figure out why.
Wash room, rinse, repeat.
4) Cheeseroom--Where cheese is born:
The careful cleaning and sanitation steps I described from my first week are always performed before and after the cheese make in the exact same routine. Everyone works together to clean the equipment, molds, vat, press, table, floors, and walls. The vat is sanitized before the milk gets pumped into the vat from the bulk tank. The bulk tank, which is in the room on the other side of the cheese room wall, is also cleaned and sanitized before and after it receives the milk for storage. While the cheese is being made in the vat, all people handling the cheese are "scrubbed in" (hands and arms washed with soap, and then dipped in chlorine solution along with gloves). All the molds and surfaces are sanitized in anticipation for hooping and pressing. We also splash chlorine solution on our aprons because sometimes a balancing act is required with the bigger wheels. It took a few weeks, but I thankfully don't need constant reminders about what I can and can't touch anymore.
After the milk is pumped, it reaches a certain temperature in accordance with the recipe for the type of cheese. The temperature of the milk, and later the curd, is controlled by the vat's double-boiler type system. The vat is a giant metal tub with a hollow jacket area around it. Hot water is pumped through the jacket, which heats the vat, and thereby the curd. After heating to the recipe's desired temperature, the starter culture and rennet are added. The starter culture creates flavor during aging and eats the lactose, thereby dropping the pH. Depending on the strain, the cultures are activated and/or killed by certain temperatures. So, keeping track of the desired temperatures is critical. Different starters create different flavors and pH levels, and each cheese uses its own combination of strains. Starters are microscopic bacteria cultures housed in a simple powder substance and sprinkled into the vat (see right). The rennet is an enzyme in liquid-form that works to coagulate the milk into curd (see left). Rennet is very fragile and can be killed by chlorine, so it's important to be careful with the sanitizing solutions.
After a certain amount of time, we use a knife to test the vat to make sure a solid curd gel mass has been formed by the rennet. Then the entire vat is cut at once with large square wire cutters (see left). As I mentioned from my first day, I'm usually not the one in charge of doing this. First, Mark is the expert at perfectly cutting the curd. Second, the pressure from the weight of the curd is so great that I'm physically held back by the curd as if we are in an arm wrestling match that I'm losing horribly.The curd, which is now separated from the whey, is stirred by two to three of us by hand and by giant metal rake. The curd is also heated to whatever the temperature the cheese requires by pumping more hot water through the vat's jacket. For some harder cheese temperatures can reach over 100 degrees. Then, the curd settles, i.e. sits there untouched, for ten minutes. Depending on the type of cheese, the whey is drained to a certain level and the curd is washed by adding hot water back to the whey. Draining and washing clears out some of the lactose, thereby removing the starter cultures' food and slowing down the pH drop.
After some more mixing, stirring, and settling, the whey is drained again. This time all the whey is drained...all the way, ha. A strainer is placed on the vat to catch the curd. As the vat is emptying, we begin to hoop the cheese, with the exception of blue cheese which is salted and drained completely before hooping. Hooping might more accurately be called scooping. We scoop up the curds in small nets and pour them into the molds, which take many shapes and sizes. The big 25-pound wheels are made in large metal molds, while the smaller wheels are in white plastic molds. All the molds have holes similar to a colander, which allows for the drainage of excess whey (see top right, tiny holes visible at bottom of metal mold). The molds are flipped multiple times to ensure the wheels are evenly formed and the desired amount of moisture is removed. With the exception of soft, moist cheeses, the cheese wheels are then pressed in an air press between 15 to 45 minutes per side to drain more whey and smooth out the wheel. (air press picture to bottom right, which also shows red hand-held pH meter readily accessible on top). The next morning, the wheels get a second pressing and are immediately taken down to the brine.During the entire make, each step is guided by timing, temperatures and pH level--each varies depending on the cheese. A pH meter is a critical tool for cheesemakers. The pH curve of the make process determines how the bacteria acts during aging, how it will taste, and how moist it will be. Therefore, careful notes are kept on the pH readings, the pressing times, the amount of cultures and rennet used and when they were added, as well as other notable observations such as any variations in the curd. If there is a variation with flavors once the cheese is aged, careful notes help the cheesemaker look back at all the variables to figure out why.
Wash room, rinse, repeat.
Daily Details, Part 2: Aging
Previously on Cheesy Street: We last left off talking about prepping for market and packaging wholesale orders. On today's episode, we'll have a closer look at life in the aging room, followed later by an installment on the cheese room.
3) The Aging Room--Where cheese becomes a grown up:
Call it an aging room, aging cave, or aging cellar, they all accomplish the same thing. It's a place where newly formed cheese develops its own unique flavor, rind, and, yes, personality. When cheese is made on the first day, the curd tastes like sweet, milky nothing. The only thing that has occurred is the dispelling of the liquid components of milk and the consolidation of the solid components. So unless the curd itself has been salted, which happens with certain blue cheeses and cheddars, it tastes just like the milk. The starter cultures that acidify (drop the pH of) the milk will do much of their work in creating flavor as the cheese ages.
Before the cheese goes on the aging shelves, it must be left in the salt brine for anywhere between 6 hours to almost three days, depending on the cheese. The salt brine is just salt and water that's kept in a big trough-like basin in the far side of the aging room. If the wheels have to be taken out early, say because another newly made batch needs to fit in the brine, then they get dry salted by hand-rubbing salt all around the wheels to compensate for the shortened time in the brine bath. Blue cheeses get routinely dry salted multiple times regardless of brining because, as you might taste, blues have a higher salt content. Salt acts to both add flavor to cheeses, as well as assist in drying out the rind and controlling moisture levels in cheese.
The cheese takes its designated spot on the aging room shelves and is left to mature and learn about the facts of life. By the time the cheese wheel reaches its midlife crisis, a unique cheesy taste has developed...and that's where things start getting nasty for me or any other person working in an aging cellar. I've previously mentioned the unappetizing things that happen in all aging rooms, but let's talk about it again for fun. Cover your ears if you're squeamish.
When you create a room to house food in the open air with cold, somewhat damp conditions, it's inevitable that creatures and organisms will live there. Fruit flies come to live and die in a sea of cheese. What a way to go. I've also heard about cheese mites before from cellar workers in my VIAC classes. I imagined bugs the size of flies, but both fortunately and unfortunately, they are much tinier and more innocuous than that. They are clusters of small whitish silver dots, which are only noticeably alive because the cluster moves and sways. It's not as gross as it sounds and it's a natural part of cheese. If you're grossed out, go cry about it to the tiny mites that live on your eyelashes and bedsheets.
The cheese mites are easily removed and eradicated in the grooming and transporting process. But the amount of dust they create is incredible. On shelves with some of the older cheeses that have aged for 6 months or longer, a layer of cheese mite dust covers the entire shelf. When the dust gets on my arm, it can get a little itchy, but it's easily wiped off. But when a shelf is emptied and needs to be used again for a new cheese, I need to really get after it with a metal scraper to fully remove all the caked on dust and rind that's left behind.
I've also mentioned hosing and cleaning the floors before. Just know that it's still gross. But it needs to be done regularly because all the dust, water, and bugs that have died a wondrous death, create a film that can get slippery and smelly. The natural odor of any cheese room should be the crisp, tickling smell of ammonia from the cheese aging, breaking down protein and developing flavor.
Each type of cheese requires it's own type of maintenance. All cheese require regular flipping, so all sides age, take shape, and dry out evenly. Blue cheeses have holes poked in them to allow oxygen inside the cheese so that the blue molds can do their job (see top-right). I've never poked blues, but I've seen others do it while down in the aging room. Some cheese simply get dusted and flipped. Washed rind cheeses need to be washed and rubbed, which gives the outside their signature smooth texture and allows the B. linens bacteria to survive and give the rind an orange look (see bottom-right). I've previously mentioned the washing technique for the Hooligan, which is simply washed with the same salt brine in which it was originally bathed as a baby in the trough. The soft, small wheels take a dip in a finger-numbing cold brine bath and sometimes receive a light scrubbing with a brush to remove some build-up. Some of the Hooligans are washed with either a beer, wine, or a pear mash to create variations in the flavor profile of the regular Hooligan.
Finally, there is the Dairyere, an aged Gruyere-like cheese that has a B.linens-orange, firm, but slightly sticky rind. Dairyeres don't get washed. Instead, I flip the wheels (which are often the big 25-pounders), rub the outside of the rind to remove dust and ensure the slight moisture is spread evenly. Also try saying "I rub Dairyeres" and "Dairyeres aren't washed" out loud without laughing like a ten-year-old. Because, I sure can't. Last week I groomed a few Dairyeres from the batch I made on my first day (the tough 112 degree cheese make). I felt a sense of pride in grooming the cheese I helped make and seeing it mature, like it was my very own cheese baby.
Call it an aging room, aging cave, or aging cellar, they all accomplish the same thing. It's a place where newly formed cheese develops its own unique flavor, rind, and, yes, personality. When cheese is made on the first day, the curd tastes like sweet, milky nothing. The only thing that has occurred is the dispelling of the liquid components of milk and the consolidation of the solid components. So unless the curd itself has been salted, which happens with certain blue cheeses and cheddars, it tastes just like the milk. The starter cultures that acidify (drop the pH of) the milk will do much of their work in creating flavor as the cheese ages.
Before the cheese goes on the aging shelves, it must be left in the salt brine for anywhere between 6 hours to almost three days, depending on the cheese. The salt brine is just salt and water that's kept in a big trough-like basin in the far side of the aging room. If the wheels have to be taken out early, say because another newly made batch needs to fit in the brine, then they get dry salted by hand-rubbing salt all around the wheels to compensate for the shortened time in the brine bath. Blue cheeses get routinely dry salted multiple times regardless of brining because, as you might taste, blues have a higher salt content. Salt acts to both add flavor to cheeses, as well as assist in drying out the rind and controlling moisture levels in cheese.The cheese takes its designated spot on the aging room shelves and is left to mature and learn about the facts of life. By the time the cheese wheel reaches its midlife crisis, a unique cheesy taste has developed...and that's where things start getting nasty for me or any other person working in an aging cellar. I've previously mentioned the unappetizing things that happen in all aging rooms, but let's talk about it again for fun. Cover your ears if you're squeamish.
When you create a room to house food in the open air with cold, somewhat damp conditions, it's inevitable that creatures and organisms will live there. Fruit flies come to live and die in a sea of cheese. What a way to go. I've also heard about cheese mites before from cellar workers in my VIAC classes. I imagined bugs the size of flies, but both fortunately and unfortunately, they are much tinier and more innocuous than that. They are clusters of small whitish silver dots, which are only noticeably alive because the cluster moves and sways. It's not as gross as it sounds and it's a natural part of cheese. If you're grossed out, go cry about it to the tiny mites that live on your eyelashes and bedsheets.The cheese mites are easily removed and eradicated in the grooming and transporting process. But the amount of dust they create is incredible. On shelves with some of the older cheeses that have aged for 6 months or longer, a layer of cheese mite dust covers the entire shelf. When the dust gets on my arm, it can get a little itchy, but it's easily wiped off. But when a shelf is emptied and needs to be used again for a new cheese, I need to really get after it with a metal scraper to fully remove all the caked on dust and rind that's left behind.
I've also mentioned hosing and cleaning the floors before. Just know that it's still gross. But it needs to be done regularly because all the dust, water, and bugs that have died a wondrous death, create a film that can get slippery and smelly. The natural odor of any cheese room should be the crisp, tickling smell of ammonia from the cheese aging, breaking down protein and developing flavor.
Each type of cheese requires it's own type of maintenance. All cheese require regular flipping, so all sides age, take shape, and dry out evenly. Blue cheeses have holes poked in them to allow oxygen inside the cheese so that the blue molds can do their job (see top-right). I've never poked blues, but I've seen others do it while down in the aging room. Some cheese simply get dusted and flipped. Washed rind cheeses need to be washed and rubbed, which gives the outside their signature smooth texture and allows the B. linens bacteria to survive and give the rind an orange look (see bottom-right). I've previously mentioned the washing technique for the Hooligan, which is simply washed with the same salt brine in which it was originally bathed as a baby in the trough. The soft, small wheels take a dip in a finger-numbing cold brine bath and sometimes receive a light scrubbing with a brush to remove some build-up. Some of the Hooligans are washed with either a beer, wine, or a pear mash to create variations in the flavor profile of the regular Hooligan.Finally, there is the Dairyere, an aged Gruyere-like cheese that has a B.linens-orange, firm, but slightly sticky rind. Dairyeres don't get washed. Instead, I flip the wheels (which are often the big 25-pounders), rub the outside of the rind to remove dust and ensure the slight moisture is spread evenly. Also try saying "I rub Dairyeres" and "Dairyeres aren't washed" out loud without laughing like a ten-year-old. Because, I sure can't. Last week I groomed a few Dairyeres from the batch I made on my first day (the tough 112 degree cheese make). I felt a sense of pride in grooming the cheese I helped make and seeing it mature, like it was my very own cheese baby.
Daily Details, Part 1: Packaging Market and Wholesale Orders
In the last few weeks, some things haven't changed. Many of the tasks I described from my first week were repeated in the exact same manner. The sanitation steps are always the same. The recipes stay the same and all involve some form of cutting, raking, stirring, hooping, and usually pressing in the air press. The clean-up still involves the same steps of scrubbing the room wall-to-floor, scrubbing the equipment multiple times, removing all curd remnants hiding in any corner, and washing all the molds and dishes in hot soapy water twice.
Of course, there are some new things that have been added to my routine. Plus, I've had enough experience under my belt to perform a few simple tasks on my own.
1) Preparing for market: The weekend farmers markets are growing as the summer gets into full-swing. When I first arrived, the New York City markets and the Farm's cheese store were the biggest responsibilities. But now the major Connecticut markets have opened for the season as well. Preparing the cheese to take to markets can begin as early as Wednesday, but it's all wrapped up and loaded into the cheese van by Friday afternoon. First, we tally what's left from the previous week's markets. Then, Mark works some sort of math voodoo in his brain and chooses the number of wheels to pull for each market from his mental inventory. The numbers often change slightly as the prepping proceeds, but somehow in the midst of thousands of pounds of cheese, Mark has a keen awareness for how much goes where and when. My role comes in making several trips up and down the stairs to the aging cellars and pulling cheese from the shelves. Mark regularly tests upcoming batches by using a coring instrument to periodically take a tasting sample out of one or two wheels from each batch. The cheeses are aged for different amounts of time, but they must by law be aged at least 60 days.
All cheese operations are set up differently. At Cato Corner, the cheeses are all aged in the same 800 square-foot cellar, and grouped geographically by cheese types in various numbered shelving sections. Blue cheeses, for example, are generally in one section and washed rinds are in their own section. If I had an aging cellar, I'd label the sections by country or animal...like at the zoo or Epcot center. But like I said, everyone sets it up differently.
I look up the date of the batch that's ready from that week's list of ready cheeses, find the correct shelf (which are labeled with the cheese type and batch date), and start lugging cheese up the stairs. I usually carry two to three small wheels or one big wheel at a time. I could probably carry more, but it makes me nervous. I've been known to have a knack for falling.
Then, I help clean and groom the cheese by scraping off the dust and various debris that collects from months in a cellar. If needed, the cheese is cut into halves, thirds, or quarter wheels. The wheels and wheel pieces are wrapped, labeled and placed in the cooler for the correct market. At the end of each Friday, the coolers are loaded into the cheese van. There are generally two or three people working together to perform these various steps.
2) Packaging wholesale orders: Knowing how to ship cheese is a life skill that I believe will come in very handy. You never know when you or someone you love will be trapped in some remote location with a dire hankering for good cheese. Bam! Cheese at your doorstep in the Arizona desert. Nom Nom.
Wholesale orders for cheese stores, restaurants, and mail-order customers flow in throughout the week. Tuesdays are the biggest days for putting together these orders to ship. It starts with the same process of pulling cheese from the aging room, as well as cleaning and wrapping the cheese. Of course, the wrapping is done more carefully and always involves using cheese paper, which helps the cheese breathe and keep for longer. Also, printed labels are added to each wheel, versus market cheese, which gets labeled with a Sharpie in various short-hand and symbols. Then, the cheese is loaded into boxes, insulated, surrounded by ice packs, and weighed. About what you'd expect. On particularly busy weeks when many orders come in at once, the front room becomes a frenzy of boxes, paper, foam, ice packs, tape and cheese. I stay focused by imagining the journey the cheese will make from aging room to box to someone's cheese plate...like a montage in the world's greatest music video. Seriously why hasn't anyone made a radio jam about cheese?
(Because the mundane details of my week are informative of the full picture, but I'm sure are also quite boring, I'm breaking this post into three parts so you don't lose interest completely. Stay tuned for what's new in the aging room and cheese room!! Woot Woot!)
Of course, there are some new things that have been added to my routine. Plus, I've had enough experience under my belt to perform a few simple tasks on my own.
1) Preparing for market: The weekend farmers markets are growing as the summer gets into full-swing. When I first arrived, the New York City markets and the Farm's cheese store were the biggest responsibilities. But now the major Connecticut markets have opened for the season as well. Preparing the cheese to take to markets can begin as early as Wednesday, but it's all wrapped up and loaded into the cheese van by Friday afternoon. First, we tally what's left from the previous week's markets. Then, Mark works some sort of math voodoo in his brain and chooses the number of wheels to pull for each market from his mental inventory. The numbers often change slightly as the prepping proceeds, but somehow in the midst of thousands of pounds of cheese, Mark has a keen awareness for how much goes where and when. My role comes in making several trips up and down the stairs to the aging cellars and pulling cheese from the shelves. Mark regularly tests upcoming batches by using a coring instrument to periodically take a tasting sample out of one or two wheels from each batch. The cheeses are aged for different amounts of time, but they must by law be aged at least 60 days.
All cheese operations are set up differently. At Cato Corner, the cheeses are all aged in the same 800 square-foot cellar, and grouped geographically by cheese types in various numbered shelving sections. Blue cheeses, for example, are generally in one section and washed rinds are in their own section. If I had an aging cellar, I'd label the sections by country or animal...like at the zoo or Epcot center. But like I said, everyone sets it up differently.
I look up the date of the batch that's ready from that week's list of ready cheeses, find the correct shelf (which are labeled with the cheese type and batch date), and start lugging cheese up the stairs. I usually carry two to three small wheels or one big wheel at a time. I could probably carry more, but it makes me nervous. I've been known to have a knack for falling.
Then, I help clean and groom the cheese by scraping off the dust and various debris that collects from months in a cellar. If needed, the cheese is cut into halves, thirds, or quarter wheels. The wheels and wheel pieces are wrapped, labeled and placed in the cooler for the correct market. At the end of each Friday, the coolers are loaded into the cheese van. There are generally two or three people working together to perform these various steps. 2) Packaging wholesale orders: Knowing how to ship cheese is a life skill that I believe will come in very handy. You never know when you or someone you love will be trapped in some remote location with a dire hankering for good cheese. Bam! Cheese at your doorstep in the Arizona desert. Nom Nom.
Wholesale orders for cheese stores, restaurants, and mail-order customers flow in throughout the week. Tuesdays are the biggest days for putting together these orders to ship. It starts with the same process of pulling cheese from the aging room, as well as cleaning and wrapping the cheese. Of course, the wrapping is done more carefully and always involves using cheese paper, which helps the cheese breathe and keep for longer. Also, printed labels are added to each wheel, versus market cheese, which gets labeled with a Sharpie in various short-hand and symbols. Then, the cheese is loaded into boxes, insulated, surrounded by ice packs, and weighed. About what you'd expect. On particularly busy weeks when many orders come in at once, the front room becomes a frenzy of boxes, paper, foam, ice packs, tape and cheese. I stay focused by imagining the journey the cheese will make from aging room to box to someone's cheese plate...like a montage in the world's greatest music video. Seriously why hasn't anyone made a radio jam about cheese?
(Because the mundane details of my week are informative of the full picture, but I'm sure are also quite boring, I'm breaking this post into three parts so you don't lose interest completely. Stay tuned for what's new in the aging room and cheese room!! Woot Woot!)
You Take the Good, You Take the Bad
It's been a full three and a half weeks since I plunged into the cheese world, and as is natural, I no longer greet every task with quite as much child-like wonderment as I did at first. The smell of my clothes at the end of certain days, for example. Uncool. Still, getting up for work continues to be exciting, and the days of dairy drudgery are nowhere in sight. The simple reason: I wake up everyday thankful for an opportunity I never thought I'd have the chance to experience.
Of course, it's not all rosy on Cheesy Street. I'm well on my way to completely wrecking my hands, and have flung my body about into all sorts of obstructions. At first, my work boots were destroying the sides of my calves and upper ankles with painful chafing. The first week there was a red oval on the side of my legs that had completely scabbed over, but only after it stopped burning every time I touched it. I remedied that problem by wearing light cropped pants that just covered the calves instead of shorts in the hot cheese room. Then, I began to get red bumps on my forearms from either the gloves, the soap, or both. I'm not sure what to do about that, short of covering my entire arm in wristbands or Livestrong bracelets, so I just put up with it as it comes and goes.
I've scraped my knuckles on the concrete floors while hosing under the cheese vat more times than I can count. I've burned my hands in the ungodly hot water used to clean the dishes. While trying to balance up to 70 pounds of cheese in my grip, I've slammed my body into doors, walls, shelves, and pipes as if I'm in some cheesy mosh pit. My knack for walking recklessly has included ramming my arms and knees into the large bricks that hold up the aging room shelves while trying to fit through the narrow aisles with big wheels of cheese. I've also developed some sort of bizarre soreness in my wrist and thumb from flipping and lifting said notoriously fatty cheese blocks.
Not all things are due to my own buffoonery. Making cheese or clean-up involves a full day of washing and sanitizing your hands multiple times, scrubbing dishes, and/or having them covered in gloves while handling the curd or cheese. By the end of the day, everyone's hands look like they belong on a drowned zombie corpse. So, of course, any amount of pressure cuts through the skin like our hands are baby plums. I've received several deep cuts on my fingers just by applying slight pressure on the corner of a metal mold. I felt validated when I learned I wasn't the only one to have this problem with their hands.
One of the cheesemakers asked me the other day if I was still enjoying myself. I answered without hesitation, yes absolutely! My rationale, however, was complete gibberish. Of course, I may at times take some tasks for granted, as any job eventually develops its own routine. I also can't (and would never want to) spout out an insincere, trite, interview-like response of "Gee, I just really find everything we do so exciting and wonderful." Screw that. Sometimes it sucks to sweat over a piping hot soapy industrial sink and inhale the decomposed dust in the aging room. It's exhausting, and I come home some days and just sit on the couch watching Office and Golden Girls reruns until I either fall asleep or remember I should eat before falling asleep.
But I do still very much enjoy my life as a cheese intern, or a cheese apprentice, or a cheese monkey... whatever you want to call me. On the whole, I am still very excited about my days. I guess the best rationale, now that I've had some time to think about it, is this: Every day there is some challenge and every day there is something new to learn, if you care enough about what you're doing to notice it. Every day, I am surrounded by people I admire and I am working in a trade I respect. Coming from a job that was the complete opposite, each day now is one I very much enjoy and for which I'm very thankful. It's similar to finding the perfect person after many years of dating absolute tools. Sure, the right person will have flaws and there will be terrible days together. Nothing is that easy. Maybe they hog the remote; maybe they buy too many shoes; maybe they fart during meals. But if it's the right fit, the goosebumps never go away.
I've scraped my knuckles on the concrete floors while hosing under the cheese vat more times than I can count. I've burned my hands in the ungodly hot water used to clean the dishes. While trying to balance up to 70 pounds of cheese in my grip, I've slammed my body into doors, walls, shelves, and pipes as if I'm in some cheesy mosh pit. My knack for walking recklessly has included ramming my arms and knees into the large bricks that hold up the aging room shelves while trying to fit through the narrow aisles with big wheels of cheese. I've also developed some sort of bizarre soreness in my wrist and thumb from flipping and lifting said notoriously fatty cheese blocks.
Not all things are due to my own buffoonery. Making cheese or clean-up involves a full day of washing and sanitizing your hands multiple times, scrubbing dishes, and/or having them covered in gloves while handling the curd or cheese. By the end of the day, everyone's hands look like they belong on a drowned zombie corpse. So, of course, any amount of pressure cuts through the skin like our hands are baby plums. I've received several deep cuts on my fingers just by applying slight pressure on the corner of a metal mold. I felt validated when I learned I wasn't the only one to have this problem with their hands.
One of the cheesemakers asked me the other day if I was still enjoying myself. I answered without hesitation, yes absolutely! My rationale, however, was complete gibberish. Of course, I may at times take some tasks for granted, as any job eventually develops its own routine. I also can't (and would never want to) spout out an insincere, trite, interview-like response of "Gee, I just really find everything we do so exciting and wonderful." Screw that. Sometimes it sucks to sweat over a piping hot soapy industrial sink and inhale the decomposed dust in the aging room. It's exhausting, and I come home some days and just sit on the couch watching Office and Golden Girls reruns until I either fall asleep or remember I should eat before falling asleep.
But I do still very much enjoy my life as a cheese intern, or a cheese apprentice, or a cheese monkey... whatever you want to call me. On the whole, I am still very excited about my days. I guess the best rationale, now that I've had some time to think about it, is this: Every day there is some challenge and every day there is something new to learn, if you care enough about what you're doing to notice it. Every day, I am surrounded by people I admire and I am working in a trade I respect. Coming from a job that was the complete opposite, each day now is one I very much enjoy and for which I'm very thankful. It's similar to finding the perfect person after many years of dating absolute tools. Sure, the right person will have flaws and there will be terrible days together. Nothing is that easy. Maybe they hog the remote; maybe they buy too many shoes; maybe they fart during meals. But if it's the right fit, the goosebumps never go away.
Fyi
I've been making a few changes to update and streamline the Cheesy Street pages above, including adding my very limited photo offerings to the "Say Cheese page." I've been busy exploring Connecticut and getting used to the work routine. But I promise there will soon be more pictures and posts to update you with what I've been doing on the farm lately!
Why do some grown-ups refuse to indiscriminately stuff their face with food?
Children generally have weaker palates, which are sensitive to what grown-ups might consider a mild flavor. Kids are more likely to be put off by strong flavors and smells. I hated onions when I was a kid, but now I love them. Last week, a group of ridiculously cute preschool children came to the farm on a field trip. I noticed several of the kids holding their nose and complaining about the smell (which isn't even that strong in the front room). When the cheese store at the farm is open on the weekends, parents often come to buy cheese with their kids in tow. I'm told that a majority of the children who see the cheese or smell the cheese have the same disgusted reaction. I guess that's where Kraft Singles make a killing; they taste and smell like nothing. Even a few of the adolescents I've observed have scowled at artisanal blocks like they are looking at a horrific science project.
It never occurred to me that most people, especially at a young age, aren't exposed to rinds and unprocessed blocks in all their glory. The packages in the grocery store are neat, waxed cheddars or rindless goudas and parmesans. Even blue cheeses are cleanly pre-crumbled for you. Of course, the processed cheeses are completely deconstructed into mini blocks or into shredded cheese.
Even by adulthood, many people are curious about how or why some cheeses are different colors. Sidenote: blue cheese gets its blue specks from the work of penicillium mold on the cheese. It's not uniformly blue throughout the cheese because the penicillium needs oxygen to survive, so it only lives where the cheesemaker has poked holes through the block. Cheese is naturally a white or yellow color, depending on the milking season and what the animals are eating. The cheddar cheese you see in the store, even the artisanal waxed blocks, are only orange because they dye it with annatto.
I'm not sure the first time I saw a full-fledged block of aged cheese. Thankfully I don't remember ever being traumatized by it. It did take me a while to warm up to blue cheese, but now I eat the crap out of blues.
Some foods take a while to ease into, and age can be a contributing factor. If they prefer cheese at all, children will like milder cheeses and develop a taste for stronger cheeses as they grow older. It's natural for children to be picky at first.
Of course, factors from the environment in which they are raised can affect what children like to eat. Mark's children are growing up around the cheeses he makes and don't think twice about the smell of the cheese house. I do believe that it's worthwhile to expose children to all sorts of food, even if they scream and spit it up. At the very least, it will teach them to respect food in the same way children are encouraged to respect diversity. I'm not trying to be politically correct, I just like to eat. Maybe an element of raising your kids right should be teaching them to appreciate food no matter what form by exposing them to a variety of fresh, hand-made cuisines in addition to the kid's menu standards.
Food education, if you will, can be fun and beneficial. Those visiting preschoolers who weren't focused on the cheese house smell had a great time watching Mark demonstrate how to make homemade ricotta. As far as cheese education goes, I'm sure the Provolone Ranger would be willing to help you or your kids learn about cheese. I'll check with him and get back to you.
It's worth questioning whether and how the exposure a child receives to different foods affects how they feel about food as they grow older. I know people who are self-professed cheese wimps, and even people who don't like cheese at all. I know everyone has their own food aversions. I don't push my cheese lust on them, but I'm curious: Is there a point at which the development of the palate halts completely? Can it be saved? Do you want it to be saved? Is it psychological or physical? I grew up in a house where my mother cooked Indian food one day and lasagna the next. Is that why I like culinary variety and trying new things?
It's not unnatural to hold onto a child-like hesitancy about cheese. Of course, I'd hope I can help you change your mind, encourage you to try new things and learn about new dairy delights. But some of us never develop the taste for certain foods. I just wonder why. If you're a picky eater, do you remember the foods to which you were exposed as a child? Do you own your pickiness or do you wish you could try new things? I feel these are all important questions to determine the root cause of our food aversions. At the very least, no parent wants their picky child to grow up to be a picky grown-up who annoys all their friends. You know, the one who says "I eat anything, I'm not picky" when you are trying to decide on a restaurant, and then turns out to be both very picky and a liar. Nobody wants to be friends with that guy.
It never occurred to me that most people, especially at a young age, aren't exposed to rinds and unprocessed blocks in all their glory. The packages in the grocery store are neat, waxed cheddars or rindless goudas and parmesans. Even blue cheeses are cleanly pre-crumbled for you. Of course, the processed cheeses are completely deconstructed into mini blocks or into shredded cheese.Even by adulthood, many people are curious about how or why some cheeses are different colors. Sidenote: blue cheese gets its blue specks from the work of penicillium mold on the cheese. It's not uniformly blue throughout the cheese because the penicillium needs oxygen to survive, so it only lives where the cheesemaker has poked holes through the block. Cheese is naturally a white or yellow color, depending on the milking season and what the animals are eating. The cheddar cheese you see in the store, even the artisanal waxed blocks, are only orange because they dye it with annatto.
I'm not sure the first time I saw a full-fledged block of aged cheese. Thankfully I don't remember ever being traumatized by it. It did take me a while to warm up to blue cheese, but now I eat the crap out of blues.
Some foods take a while to ease into, and age can be a contributing factor. If they prefer cheese at all, children will like milder cheeses and develop a taste for stronger cheeses as they grow older. It's natural for children to be picky at first.
Of course, factors from the environment in which they are raised can affect what children like to eat. Mark's children are growing up around the cheeses he makes and don't think twice about the smell of the cheese house. I do believe that it's worthwhile to expose children to all sorts of food, even if they scream and spit it up. At the very least, it will teach them to respect food in the same way children are encouraged to respect diversity. I'm not trying to be politically correct, I just like to eat. Maybe an element of raising your kids right should be teaching them to appreciate food no matter what form by exposing them to a variety of fresh, hand-made cuisines in addition to the kid's menu standards.
Food education, if you will, can be fun and beneficial. Those visiting preschoolers who weren't focused on the cheese house smell had a great time watching Mark demonstrate how to make homemade ricotta. As far as cheese education goes, I'm sure the Provolone Ranger would be willing to help you or your kids learn about cheese. I'll check with him and get back to you.
It's worth questioning whether and how the exposure a child receives to different foods affects how they feel about food as they grow older. I know people who are self-professed cheese wimps, and even people who don't like cheese at all. I know everyone has their own food aversions. I don't push my cheese lust on them, but I'm curious: Is there a point at which the development of the palate halts completely? Can it be saved? Do you want it to be saved? Is it psychological or physical? I grew up in a house where my mother cooked Indian food one day and lasagna the next. Is that why I like culinary variety and trying new things?
It's not unnatural to hold onto a child-like hesitancy about cheese. Of course, I'd hope I can help you change your mind, encourage you to try new things and learn about new dairy delights. But some of us never develop the taste for certain foods. I just wonder why. If you're a picky eater, do you remember the foods to which you were exposed as a child? Do you own your pickiness or do you wish you could try new things? I feel these are all important questions to determine the root cause of our food aversions. At the very least, no parent wants their picky child to grow up to be a picky grown-up who annoys all their friends. You know, the one who says "I eat anything, I'm not picky" when you are trying to decide on a restaurant, and then turns out to be both very picky and a liar. Nobody wants to be friends with that guy.
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