End Act 2

Tomorrow, I leave my second internship. It's been a cosmically odd final week in the Northwest: Estrella is shut-down, the rainy fall suddenly sets in after mostly beautiful weather, I'm stalked all the way to the farm by a crazed hillbilly with some serious road rage. As for the rest of the two months, it has been incredibly rewarding to work with Meg and Brad and I'm fortunate to have found their farm (and lucky that they took me on).

Time for me to figure out the next step. I may have an opportunity in the works. It's not official yet, so I'll leave you in suspense until it is. One thing I know is that I still feel like I have a lot to learn about cheese. My high school theology teacher once told me that I'm not satisfied until I feel as though I've learned or seen every aspect of a subject -- it's not necessarily that I have to master it, but I at least need to know why or that it exists. Dude was crazy good at psychoanalyzing me. It's probably the reason I create lists of questions I forget to ask. It's probably why I spent one Saturday night Googling academic articles on milk composition. I am a little OCD about knowledge. Regardless of whether I even retain it, I want to hoard it for some dark corner of my brain. I do feel like I could learn a lot from another internship, or another class at VIAC, or a trip to Europe, or job in a small cheese shop, a big cheese shop and a medium-sized cheese shop. Obviously, I can't do everything. At a certain point, I need to stop hoarding knowledge and experiences and just do something.

For now, I'm going on an epic road trip again! Tad will be working in Del Rio, Texas for the next year. So I'll be driving down to Houston for Thanksgiving with my family and visiting Tad in Del Rio at least until New Years. As soon as further plans have been made official for me, I'll let you know. All I know is that it will likely involve heading back to the east coast at the end of Winter. For now, I'll be living out of my car again. This time I'm making the trip with my high school friend, Kim. The next few weeks, I'll be posting mostly about road trip adventures instead of cheese -- unless, of course, the road trip adventures involve cheese. To give you an idea of my near circumnavigation of the country this year and the epicness of both road trip 1 and road trip 2, chew on these maps:

Click on thumbnail to see Road Trip 1

Click on thumbnail to see Road Trip 2

Cheese Tragedy

The big news in the cheese world was the FDA's recent closure of the Estrella Family Creamery in Montesano, Washington, which caused quite the ruckus in the Northwest (read more details at the Pacific Northwest Cheese Project website). Estrella had been having some trouble with Listeria contamination in the past several months. The forced shut-down stems from prior FDA product recalls and tests at the facility with positive indications of Listeria. Upon hearing the news a few days ago, I was surprised. I knew the creamery had been having problems curbing the Listeria issue at their facility. But, one, I was under the impression that those issues were being diligently addressed. And, two, it seems a little ridiculous that the FDA can come in all drug-bust style, raid a farm, and confiscate cheese like a scene out of the Wire. Granted, I didn't see the event, but having the FDA drive up with Federal Marshals to seize cheese, doesn't seem like a routine visit from the health inspector.

Estrella is a true family-run operation: just mom, dad, and six kids, each with a role in either taking care of the animals or making cheese. I had visited the creamery a few weeks ago during their farm store hours. They make awesome cheese that I love. If this puts them out of business for good, it would be a tragedy. Also, while I was there I was graciously given a tour by a member of the family. I saw that the creamery was taking multiple corrective measures, including renovations, installing better air-flow systems, and halting the production of the most problematic cheese. It seemed like the FDA tests and recalls were being taken very seriously and everyone was doing their best to eliminate the issues.

Listeria is a bacteria that is commonly found in the environment. True, good sanitation can help prevent its growth. Historically there have been Listeria issues in cheesemaking facilities with poor sanitation. Yet, because Listeria is so common, you could probably find it anywhere if you really tried. For that reason, I've heard stories of several very meticulous and clean cheesemakers who have had a lot of trouble ridding their facility of Listeria. Some have found it so impossible to get rid of it that they simply shut down and move to a new facility. In many stituations it has nothing to do with any wrong-doing or error in sanitation on the cheesemaker's part.

While Listeria is a serious and deadly bacteria, especially with vulnerable populations such as the elderly and pregnant women, it's also just a food risk like any other. I've eaten raw meat on multiple occasions. I'm warned of the risk. As long as the food preparation is done in a clean manner, if I get sick, it's my own damn fault.  Most pregnant women are told not to eat raw milk cheeses because of the chance of Listeria hurting the fetus. After being warned of the risk, people make their own reasoned decisions. I've heard that European women are far more likely to eat raw milk cheese when pregnant. Once, my entire family got violent Salmonella poisoning from eating at Applebee's. To my recollection, there was no FDA raid on chicken breasts in the Applebee's kitchen. It seems that product recalls and corrective measures usually address these situation (unless it is very grave or the result of severe issues).

Yes, health inspectors and food safety regulations should be respected. It's a good rule of thumb to treat government workers nicely and respect the crappyness of their job. If you do, then the relationship you build with them is likely to be productive, and at times, save your ass.  Yet, the way some foods, especially dairy products, are treated as contraband is asinine. Some of the regulations regarding cheeses are downright stupid. Many state regulations require that cheese be kept at 41 degrees at farmers markets. Despite the fact that most cheeses have been living their entire life in an aging cave set to temperatures in the 50s, and the best way to eat cheese is at room temperature. Raw milk is treated like poison despite the fact that in many ways it's much better for you than the jugs you get in the grocery store. At a certain point we create a culture of paranoia.

Nobody wants someone to get sick, or worse yet, die from their product. Every cheesemaker I've met or worked with does their best to comply with the rules, keep everything sanitary, and take corrective measures when something goes wrong. You do the best you can, take precautions, and the rest is just a risk like anything else in life.

Tour de Cheesemongers

Recently, I became sane again…mostly. I have a few things to thank for this: My visits with various cheesemongers in the region being one.

ACS was a great experience for learning and meeting new people. Frankly, though, it freaked me out. I mentioned that many of the seminars made the possibility of opening a cheese store seem either emotionally consuming or financially crippling. It was not the intended message of the panelists, who had a lot of other very helpful information to offer. They were just being honest about the difficulties they and many other cheesemongers and business-people face. It was just in my mind that the scary parts were repeating like an echo.

Really, it was due for me. Realism is always needed in small doses, and I was dreaming big with no concept of what the dream would require in reality. But I became a pendulum. Instead of focusing on the helpful tips and bringing my optimism down to a natural and healthy level, I panicked. I was in a small, depressing town, far from everyone I confide in, panicking. I felt like I had eloped with cheese, and was spending our honeymoon in Indiana—or worse yet, Delaware—where cheese had left me in the Motel 6 to run off and blow our life-savings gambling at the horsetrack and getting elaborate drunken tattoos of fire trucks on his face. Me, with nobody to talk to, wondering if I had made the right decision.

Every day I was working at the farm I felt reassured. So much so that I began to think that perhaps I should just switch my vision to making cheese or working with cheesemakers. I was constantly reminded how lucky I am to work with something I love so much. Cheese could never let me down. That is until I went home, where there was very little to do, and began to think about a future cheese shop. My mind went in all sorts of directions until a cheese shop transformed cheese into that drunk, broke, fire-truck-faced idiot that wanted to scavenge on my joy. Oh cheese, how could you?

In reality, it never did, and it wouldn't. Cheese as a tattoo-faced degenerate was just a phantom of my own creation. I realized this first when I visited Sheri’s store, Calf and Kid, in Seattle. Prior to opening her shop, Sheri had spent a few weeks at Black Sheep learning about the finer points of cheese birth. Turns out she keeps a blog for her business and began writing it when she was just getting the store off the ground. I went through her blog last month, and while it seemed that her pace in opening a shop was much more decisive than mine, I found a lot of commonality with her vision. Because of that, Sheri had a lot of useful insight to offer. Most importantly, she had the attitude I had been looking for since ACS: a cheese shop does not have to consume your life, and there are ways you can avoid unnecessary costs to keep it financially reasonable. Sheri was completely open and willing to share details on any stupid question I asked. She let me shadow her in her shop for two whole days! I was incredibly lucky and thankful. She shared a lot of useful tips on saving money, like calling in handy friends to help with build-out instead of relying on useless general contractors. She helped me gain a lot of perspective on what needed to be done to bring to life a cheese shop you love (and don’t resent). Her shop is part of the larger Melrose Market in Seattle, which brings together several food-related businesses (restaurants, meat shop, winebar, sandwiches). It is very similar to the size and set-up I kept coming back to in my head, especially after this summer when I visited Saxelbys in New York’s Essex Market. Starting small seemed like the best option. A smaller shop is welcoming, and it can help keep costs down and keep me sane. What if I can’t find a suitable location like the Melrose Market. Will a big store necessarily make cheese a burden for me? 



Cheese Bar is open until 11pm and

doubles as a friendly,

nighborhood watering hole...

...but the cheese is definitely the star.

Steve, of Cheese Bar in Portland (formerly Steve’s Cheese) put that fear to rest. I shadowed Steve and his staff at the Cheese Bar for one afternoon, getting some extensive wrapping practice, watching customer interactions, and asking questions. Steve started off small, just a cheese counter in a wine store, and recently expanded into a stand-alone storefront with food, cheese plates, beer and wine to accompany the fully-stocked cheese counter. True, Steve began small, on the scale of stores such as Calf and Kid or Saxelbys. Still, expanding into an exponentially bigger space requires a significant investment. Through a lot of do-it-yourself labor and thoughtful planning, he managed to accomplish the expansion without the crippling debt numbers they were talking about at ACS. Both Sheri and Steve, calmed my fears, helped me see where to begin on the business front, and, through their laid-back approach, gave me hope. Granted, I can’t build a counter or pull up floors on my own, but I do have some handy friends. Eh eh? Handy friends, I’m looking at you; there’s free cheese in this for you.  



My last stop was DeLaurenti’s at Pike’s Place market, which isn’t so much a cheese shop as it is an institution. DeLaurenti’s cheese counter is insane. Their meat counter is equally awe-inspiring. Forget Murray’s, this is like the Sisteen Chapel of cheese. There’s just so much to take in. The store has been running in the market since the 1940s and is a full-fledged wine shop and specialty store as well. Obviously my initial ambitions are not to emulate DeLaurenti’s on scale. That would just be stupid…and require me to have very rich parents. I shadowed the cheesemongers at DeLaurenti’s for a few hours mostly to see how they interact with their customers. A cheese shop of that magnitude and in such a high-profile location can become very intimidating for shy cheese enthusiasts. When I first visited the shop, I noticed how welcoming it felt, as well as the exceptionally personal and patient interaction the cheesemongers had with their customers. I was equally impressed that many of them could tell all the cheeses apart without their labels. Seriously, though, 200 cheeses! My afternoon at DeLaurenti’s reminded me of the interactions that made me want to open a store to begin with.

So all that was a long way of saying, I feel much better now. Also, I’m just stupid lucky to have gotten a chance to hang out at all these stores for several hours at a time – always in the way and full of questions. I was supremely appreciative that so many helpful cheesemongers were willing to open their business to me in that way. That means two things. One, cheese folks in the Northwest have an amazing, supportive relationship with each other. Two, people really think highly, as they should, of Meg and Brad to be welcome someone who they hear is affiliated with Black Sheep.

Finally, I also feel a sense of calm because I’m starting to form a rough plan for my life after I leave here in the next few days. I know I still have a lot to figure out and learn about cheese and business. But I hadn’t really thought much past November. I didn’t even know where Tad and I would be living. To a certain extent, I still don’t know the full picture. At least I’ve written down some options on a notepad and bought a used book on opening a small business. That’s a start.

Daily Details, Part 2: Cheesemaking and Aging -- The Sheep Chronicles

I arrived at Black Sheep just as the cheesemaking was winding down because the sheep were ready to stop lactating and enter the breeding season. But thankfully I arrived just in time to see how a few of their cheeses are made.

4) Cheesemaking

Where the magic happens. The vat
is the round thing in the back.

Though there is less milk, the work is just as laborious. In the summer, Brad is making two batches of cheese each day (in smaller quantities per batch). I wasn’t around for the long days of cheesemaking, but I’m sure it also required a lot of simultaneous clean-up. The vat, like the vat I described from my visit to Beltane Farm in Connecticut to make goat cheese, is much smaller than the open vat at Cato and it doubles as a pasteurizer. Especially when pasteurizing, the temperatures in the room can get quite high. But it’s not quite the same cardio-heavy sweat-fest as in a larger make room dealing with more milk and larger wheels. There aren’t several dozens of giant molds waiting to be washed in piping hot water. There aren’t 30 pound wheels to be flipped and hoisted into the press. And most of all, there aren’t several thousand pounds of milk in an open vat, emanating heat after being warmed to triple-digit temperatures. Still, two makes each day, would wipe me out all the same.

Some of the cheeses are much easier to make. For instance, the fresh cheese is simply pasteurized, then cultured in 5 gallon containers until it sets overnight. It’s then hooped and hung in cheese cloths the next day to drain. The seasoning and packaging of the fresh cheese is actually a bigger pain. There is also yogurt, for which you do need to closely watch the temperature at certain points, but it is also a basic heat-add-culture-and-wait recipe.

Cheese house on the left of barn.

The other cheeses are made in much the same manner as what I described this summer. The cheesemaking steps are essentially the same: heat the milk, add culture, add rennet, cut the curd, stir, drain the whey, hoop, flip, press and brine the cheese. Some of the cheeses also call for washing the curd. We keep our hands washed and sanitized, and all the equipment is washed and sanitized. But within each step there are differences. First, there is less to sanitize and wash, so there isn’t quite as much to clean-up. Also, the amount of milk requires a different measurement system for the rennet and culture. In the summer, I was calculating and weighing out precise grams of culture to add to 1500 to 3000 pounds of milk. We were diluting up to 100 mL of rennet in a big bucket. There was A LOT of milk I had the potential to ruin. Here there are maybe 30-some gallons of milk at a time in the vat. So I add 8mL of rennet to water in a yogurt cup and measure out culture in teaspoons. Precision is still necessary, you have to add the correct amount, and ruining 30-40 gallons of milk is still a really big deal. But at least psychologically I was less nervous to do the culture and rennet when I heard the words “heaping teaspoon.”   

Molds in the press. Pot on the stove

is for yogurt.

Once the milk is ripened and set, the curd is ready to cut. Instead of giant harps, which probably won’t even fit in the vat, we use a whisk – the same type I have in my kitchen, but longer and sturdier. In the similarly-sized goat cheese vat, I believe we used a large knife. The whisk goes in, and with each twist, the curd is cut into pieces. Then, same as with the cows’ milk, we heat the curd and stir. This time there is no giant rake and I’m not hanging over the vat while the hot curd heats my face. We do hand-stir the curd with our hand and arms, but it’s small enough that two arms can do the job. Plus the vat is high enough that my arm dips right in without any lower back issues.

Then the whey is drained and we begin scooping out the curd (“hooping”) into molds. The molds are much smaller and lined with cheese cloth. We stack the molds to get some whey out. Then we start flipping and pressing them. The press is a home-made structure (not an air-press). It uses jugs of water as weights to create pressure. The molds go into the press. They are generally flipped three times and pressed for an hour each time. The next day they go into the salt brine before beginning their life in the aging cave.

5) Aging

The front trailer is the prep room.
If you look behind it, you see part of the
trailer used as the aging cellar attached

The cave work is similar, but less involved at Black Sheep. All cheese has to get flipped regularly to allow for proper rind development. But there are fewer varieties of cheese to maintain; so there are no blue cheeses to poke and fewer types of cheese to wash. Because there is less cheese in the cave, there is less maintenance for the structure itself. The floors stay pretty clean and the shelves don’t need to be scraped quite as aggressively. That will likely change as the cave gets older and if production increases. The cave itself is not an underground cellar like at Cato Corner. Instead it's a metal shipping trailer that has been rigged to allow for temperature and humidity control. It is attached to the back of the trailer that serves as the packaging and cutting room.

The cheeses that are washed – the St. Helens, and occasionally the Pecorino – are washed much less frequently than Hooligans. Because of the washing schedule and the recipe itself, the washed rinds here are fairly mild and not very stinky. The washed-rind cheeses here are washed with a similar salt brine solution. To encourage the orange-rind development, B. Linens is also added to this brine in small quantities. Instead of a brush, I put the brine solution on a cloth and wipe the cheeses.


The aging cellar. Attached in the
back holds the brine tank.

 One added task that arises from having smaller quantities is brushing. I’ve discussed dust mites before and the dust they create. I know the mites and molds that thrive in the cave are pretty unappetizing, but it’s a natural part of the process. I’ve seen it all and I still heartily enjoy the cheese. Flipping and handling the cheese, and properly maintaining the cave and shelves will generally take care of a lot of the dust and blemishes on the rind. The rest is cleaned off when the cheese is pulled from the cave. This fall, however, I’ve spent a few days of cave work that were dedicated to pre-emptively brushing the dust and gunk off the rinds during the aging process. I take each cheese and brush off the dust and mold blemishes and replace them on the shelf. When cheese is pulled, it is brushed again, but there should be less to clean at that point. It’s a good way to keep an eye on the cheese and see how the rinds are developing. But that would take a substantial devotion of man-power if there was a lot more cheese.

On a final note, I have to say I've been really lucky so far to work with wonderful people and find internships that have genuinely been a great learning experience. I appear to have lucked out again. Meg and Brad are awesome. They are laid-back and fun to work with, and most importantly, ridiculously patient and kind in helping me learn the ropes even as their season winds down. Both here at Black Sheep and at Cato Corner, I've had the chance to work with people who really know what they're doing and have won recognition from their peers for it. Yet, they are still generous enough to welcome a hapless twenty-something into their business, put me in touch with their cheese contacts, and in the process, support my goal. I've been very very fortunate in my path this year. Fingers-crossed that the luck continues!

Ricotta hanging at the end of
cheesemaking day. The fresh
cheese hangs in the same manner.



Daily Details, Part 1: Farm, Markets and Packaging

I’ve neglected to provide a structured view of my day-to-day tasks and duties as I did this summer. In an attempt not to be repetitive, I tried to thematically convey some of the differences in my fall posts: I’ve been working with the animals slightly more here, I’ve been doing more farmers markets, and I’ve had more responsibility in working the markets alone. But I think a better outline of my duties helps bring to life my Fall here.

Other than the increased role in farm-work, the basic cheese-related tasks are the same: make cheese, work in the aging cave, prepare for market, package orders and shipments, work markets. Yet, because the farm is smaller and because I arrived at the tail-end of sheep season, the routine for each of these steps is vastly different from what I did this summer. My two internships have been equally amazing experiences, and thanks to their differences, I’ve been offered a chance to learn a lot of different skills in a really condensed amount of time

1) Farm Work
Perhaps because of the size of the farm and staff, the cheese and farm work aren’t compartmentalized. Brad and Meg, as well as most of their staff, tend to have a hand in both. In the summer, I mostly kept my animal interaction to gawking at cute calves. Once I helped milk the cows. As you know, out here, I’ve had much more interaction with the sheep. But I never had any udder-time with them because milking season was primarily over for the sheep. Still, after having watched their most intimate courting rituals and administered to their medical needs, I feel as though we’re as much pals as the cows I milked.

Penny guards (and occasionally
antagonizes) the rams. Brutus, who's
not pictured, guards the main flock and
is almost three times Penny's size.

I’d like to give special mention to the dogs on the farm because they’re just so darn cute. Both farms have border collies with really bizarre, but endearing, personality quirks that make them utterly useless as farm animals. I don’t know much about dog breeds, but I’ve come to the conclusion that border collies are extremely neurotic. Black Sheep also has three Anatolian sheepdogs that guard the sheep from coyotes and other roving woodland carnivores. The sheep dogs are HUGE, extremely friendly, and stay outside with the sheep and rams at all times.

2) Preparing for market and Packaging orders
Black Sheep produces less cheese and milk each year than Cato Corner. Meg and Brad have been making cheese commercially since 2005; Mark started making cheese at Cato in 1999 and his mom was making cheese on the farm a couple years before he arrived. In addition, things are just starting to get back to normal at Black Sheep since a devastating flood that wiped out most of the flock and crippled the operation struck in 2007. But the main factor in size of production is the nature of the animals. Cows are bigger. They have more milk. Further, sheep are dry for longer than cows or goats. And sheep are much more difficult to breed on a rotating cycle to allow for year-long milk production. So while there are about 70-ish milk producing sheep here to Cato’s 40-ish milking cows, and both animals are milked twice a day, the sheep give you far less milk to work with in an average year. Black Sheep's cheese production is about ten-thousand pounds per year, and Cato produces about fifty-thousand pounds of cheese per year. The result is fewer people working on the farm here and cheese work that is more seasonal.

The room for all the prepping,
packaging, and cutting. You can see
through the door, the aging cellar
is behind.

As a result, preparing for markets and shipping orders is bit less systematic. For market, there is no precise amount of cheese I’m pulling. I just go to the aging cave and pick out a couple wheels of the next available batch of a given cheese. Unless something is unusual that week (an additional event or market), I generally just use my own judgment to make sure there is enough of everything prepared for market.

I had mentioned that because of various state and local laws and licensing issues, the cheese here has to be pre-cut and packaged for each market. Once a week (usually Thursday or Friday), I prepare for two markets by making sure a little over 30 pieces of each cheese is in the refrigerator, cut, vacuum sealed, weighed and labeled. Then, I inventory the prices of each piece being taken to a given market on a sheet of paper, and organize the cheese into bins to be put in the coolers the next morning. Samples are cut into little cubes and placed in a labeled container. If there is ricotta to sell for the week, then that needs to be scooped and put in labeled containers.

When I first arrived, there were about two weeks of regular milk production from the sheep, so we could also prepare the fresh cheese, which is much like a cream cheese or chevre with seasonings. This would double the market prep time and take up both a Thursday and Friday. There were five different types of flavored fresh cheese so we needed to season and make each type, and then scoop each type into several 4 and 7-ounce tubs. We also make yogurt during milking season, so that would need to be put in tubs as well. So, in the summer, preparing for market can be quite time-consuming.

Orders are fewer and come in on a sporadic basis. Unlike this summer, there are no big packaging extravaganzas built into the schedule with boxes and packing paper eating up the room. If there is an order to prepare it’s usually just a couple boxes at a time, or someone is going to Portland or Seattle to make a cheese shop delivery. Otherwise, the orders are wrapped and packaged in much the same way: by putting the wrapped wheel in a box with ice packs and insulation. If the order is a delivery, the wrapped wheel is carried in a cooler. No surprises there.

3) Markets and Events

The winery event, clearly not even close
 to the ruckus of the Connecticut
wine festival

I described most of my market responsibilities in previous posts. The biggest differences: the cheeses are pre-cut and packaged at sizes averaging about a quarter-pound, samples are pre-cut and handed out upon request by disposable toothpick or spoon…oh yeah, and I drive to and from the market, set-up, sell, and pack-up all by myself. I’m tasked with two markets each week (versus one market per week this summer). Over the course of the season, I’ve worked three different markets: St. Johns in Portland, Chehalis, and Puyallup.

In addition, I was given the responsibility of representing the farm in various events, such as the tasting event in September that I mentioned in an earlier post. I also mongered cheese at a winery in nearby Centralia during a weekend wine tour event. It was nothing like the chaos and constant action at the winery event in Connecticut. I didn’t write about the Centralia wine experience here because I was mostly a figure-head or sentry of sorts, stationed at the table to answer any potential questions about the cheese, insert a spiel about the labeled samples, and point to a cooler in the wine store where more pieces were stored. I did a little bit of that, but mostly I ate a lot of the chili they were serving there.


Chehalis market day (Admittedly,
I could have taken a better picture)

The added market responsibilities have helped me develop confidence in how I talk about the product. Plus, I’ve developed a better sense of knowing what a customer’s tastes and interests are via body language and verbal cues, as well as knowing how to deal with the occasional problem-customer throwing a fit over taste or price. I’m still not an expert, but the added interactions have given me much-needed practice. Best of all, towards end of my first month, I began to feel more like part of the farmers market community, which is a fantastic community to be a part of.

Best of the Northwest

Today I helped Meg and Brad put up new siding on the rental house behind the barn, thereby fulfilling my corporate-to-construction Office Space fantasy. I was unreasonably excited about it and enthusiastically volunteered my help. We've officially reached the cheese doldrums for sheep-milk cheesemakers. The animal work is mostly done until lambing season begins at the end of winter. The sheep stopped giving milk weeks ago, so cheesemaking has come to a halt. There is technically enough milk here, stored and frozen, for a few more batches of their mixed milk cheese, but we're in a holding pattern until they reach their source for cows milk. There are only a few more markets left, so not as much cheese to cut. My only remaining tasks are cutting/packaging for and attending the last two markets of the season: one tomorrow in Puyallup and one on Tuesday in Chehalis.

So I realize: Out of nowhere comes the end of my second internship. I still have one week left, but I don’t know where the other eight weeks went. In keeping with my usual nostalgia flare-ups, which sometimes I can only liken to a recurring rash, I’ve started to reminisce on everything I’ll miss out here. Soon, I'll fully expound in a later post on the cheesemaking details and farm work, which I have neglected to do aside from the sheep care stories and a few market descriptions. To put it simply for now, I loved my internship and working with Meg and Brad, so I'll greatly miss every detail of that experience -- except, perhaps, cutting and packaging cheese for market. Much like washing Hooligans this summer, it is monotonous and lonely. Unsurprisingly years of document review as a lawyer, trained me to excel at tuning out and powering through such tasks. The highlight of that type of duty in the cheese world is getting to notice the changes in the cheese from time and care and the variances in batches; and at least with cutting and packaging, that involves noticing changes in taste.

Loving work has been a fortunate and reliable fact ever since I began doing this. But for now, I can't leave here without telling you about some of the other great non-cheese-related Washington experiences. 



Admittedly, I've been critical about a few things here (*cough* chickens). And I even stated I might be more of a east coast girl for long-term purposes (as far as coasts go, and with the exception of Portland, which I love).  For instance, I was disappointed in the suitability of my immediate vicinity for running and outdoor recreation. The logging history of the town and the industrial park down the road create a certain stench on the sides of the highway where I have to run. There are other gauntlets on many of the roads, including the certainty of running into at least one unleashed, untrained guard dog running across the road and barking at my heels. Sadly, I prefer the smell of bum pee while running on the sidewalks of DC. That's just me. 

 

Yet, I have found one oasis that is actually one of the most beautiful roads for running ever. I climb a monstrous hill and pass a small herd of cows at pasture, a well-kept red farmhouse, a leaf-lined trail leading to a tree farm, an orchard, and at the very end, a clearing with a perfect view of Mt. St. Helens when there are no clouds. Occasionally, on the smelly highway portion that ends my route, I see a mama and baby deer prancing through someone’s yard. I've seen the same pair at least three times, reminding not to be such a cynical jackass. I will miss that run and that reminder.

    

Seeing Mt. Rainier and Mt. St. Helens on a clear day is something I will definitely miss. On some mornings, when the Rainier is especially snowy and the sun hasn’t quite reached its peak, the mountain looks like it is glowing. If I lived out here, I would always appreciate days when Rainier peaks out from behind its cloud curtain – if for no other reason than the odds and predictability of a clear day make its appearance feel a lot like the winnings in a game of roulette. 



Not even the foggiest part
of my lovely hike

When my experimentation with running routes grew tiresome, I always had the opportunity to drive a bit and go for a hike somewhere beautiful. Despite being cloudy, and at points because it was, my hike on Mt. Rainier was the most gasp-inducing, beautiful trail I’ve ever been on. Plowing through the foggy clouds, blowing frost and zero-visibility, which made me feel completely alone, disoriented and like I was about to fall off the edge of world into a Tolkien novel at any minute, just to see what was at the top of Panorama Point was at times an exercise in self-motivation. Obviously, there was no panorama to see that day, but my curiosity won out. When I reached the top, I felt like I was seeing the mountain like few people would -- because who goes for a solo hike in that kind of weather? 

Is food on this list? You know it!

The hands-down best Mexican restaurant I’ve been to is in Centralia, Washington: authentic home-cooked, warm your heart food that is widely acknowledged as the best Mexican restaurant in the area. La Tarasca was built by one mom, not unlike your own perhaps. By the taste of her food, traditional fare from the Michoacan region of Mexico, I'm imagining she gives really good hugs. It tastes familiar, the flavors so discernable that you think you can recreat it. But of course, any attempt fails miserably, which is the beauty of really good home-cooking. She makes her own fresh corn tortillas in the kitchen, which I've seen from the dining room. And you can taste the love in them. It's a simple menu, the lamination falling apart on the pages that list off a dozen staple dishes and an a la cart menu with the usuals:  tamales, chile relleno, and badass Adobada and Chorizo tacos. Nothing is flashy; the tacos are just the seasoned meat, onions, cilantro wrapped in a fresh tortilla, with a lime for squeezing. It’s a family operation, and I get the sense that 80% of the customers are regulars. If I was here for longer, I would be among them. Please note this restaurant has received  old star approval from someone born and raised in Texas, and who therefore has street cred in tasting lots of good Mexican food.

Of course, I'll miss all the delicious fresh produce I’ve bought or bartered/traded for at farmers markets. And, god yes, the bread from Russell’s Bread, the vendor next to me at the St. John’s farmers market I’ve raved about.

Proximity to Seattle and Portland has allowed me to discover many great things about city life here. I'll miss my friends in Seattle and my guilty pleasures at Pike’s Place Market: the hot mini doughnuts, Russian Piroshkys, and Bottega Italiana gelato. I try to stay at the market long enough that I can make the rounds and eat at each place …so you know, about an hour. 

I'll miss the food in Portland. All of it. No really. I’m almost positive that every single food cart is amazing. I stop at a generic Middle Eastern food cart expecting a standard kofte sandwich and I get my face blown off by a really flavorful and fresh pocket of joy. I go to a Czechoslovakian cart for something different and pee my pants when I’m presented with the fried-slab-of-cheese-between-bread sandwich. I swear I didn't special order this sandwich, and this cart has been ranked as one of the best on their food cart scene (so it’s legit). 

I wasn't here for a particularly ideal season for weather on the beach or coast, but the Oregon and Washington coasts are beautiful even in the rain. Back to food: this also includes the amazing Bosnian restaurant, Drina Daisy, in Astoria, where the stew I ate felt like a warm blanket in my belly. 

I won't miss the chickens. I'm sorry but some things have no redeeming qualities. 

Rainier on the road to the farm

Harvest Dinner

Sunday was the annual Chehalis harvest dinner to celebrate the end of market season. There are two more farmers markets left in Chehalis and the weather has treated us kindly as of late. While end of season tends to bring a halt to customer traffic and sales dramatically, I'm always impressed by the relationship the community has with its market and its vendors. Now I'm doubly impressed with the community after the harvest dinner, which had better food and decorations than a lot of weddings I've attended.

Every ingredient in the meal came from one of the market vendors. It was all cooked and catered by one of the local chefs who has a prepared food stand at the market. Fresh produce and meat is delicious in its own right. But this guy works some sort of magic that makes it even more delicious. I don't think I've stuffed my face that hard since I've been out here. At first I was a little apprehensive when I heard the lamb for the lamb moussaka came from Black Sheep Creamery (frozen and stored away after lambing season in the spring). I wasn't around to meet any of the lambs when they were born, but I know their mothers. I've wrestled medicine into their mothers' mouths. I've watched their mothers conceive some of their future siblings. It seemed wrong. But whatever, I'm an omnivore and who am I to say no to delicious food? It was already cooked, so better not let their lives perish in vain. The food was amazing. The local ensemble band of school kids playing celtic music was surprisingly awesome. There was a slideshow with pictures from the farms of all the local vendors. But the best part was the support of the community. There were over 100 people at this dinner, and I can tell you there are definitely not that many vendors. People from the town, including business owners and local officials, had purchased tickets to come enjoy an evening with their favorite food purveyors.

It was a great night of community charm and hardcore eating.

Sampling Etiquette

There are people out there who hate cheese. I've met them. I'm *cough* friends with some of them. Some hate cheese in all its variations. More commonly, people who claim that they're "not really a cheese person" just hate eating a piece of cheese for the sake of enjoying the cheese. The latter category, however, generally eat cheese if it's masked as an ingredient in other foods (i.e. pizza). I feel you; there's nothing that will make me purchase a meal faster than if I see it involves cheese melted and generously blanketing other food items (faster, even, than adding bacon to the dish). 

I'm a glutton who likes to eat almost anything, but even I have my hang-ups. Most people have at least some food they don't like or are picky about. It's perfectly normal. Sometimes it's not even rational. Steamed rice. I'll eat it, but rarely more than a few bites. Why are there so many flavorless little grains?! It seems insurmountable on my plate. Cauliflower. Get that stuff away from me. It looks like a magnified abscess. Why is it so freakishly white?!

But, let's be clear. If you present me with a steamed rice or cauliflower meal at your home, I'm not going to run, screaming from it in fear. It's just food. Sometimes I'm even surprised by the meal. Once at a dinner cooked by my parents' friends in Baltimore, I scarfed down a delicious cauliflower dish that was heavily masked in a delightful curry. 

I've noticed, however, at many farmers markets and festivals on both coasts that not everyone's momma taught them proper manners. It is of extreme importance that everyone understand food of any kind is 1) sustenance, and 2) a hand-made culinary creation that someone used time, effort, and creativity to make just for your enjoyment.

It's best to know your limits when testing your culinary boundaries. If you really think something looks so repulsively bad that it's all you can do to control your gag reflex, then politely decline. But if you're adventurous, experimental, or you're just never one to turn down a free sample, then recognize proper etiquette when you try a food you don't like (or even hate). It's REALLY rude to stomp about and spit out the food in outraged disgust as if someone just tricked you into drinking a cup full of pee. It's just food. Grow up and grow a pair. 

Constructive feedback is always helpful ("that has a little too much salt for my taste"). I've even had people try cheese and say "oh that's just not my thing" and thank me for the sample. Also okay. A food producer can gauge a reaction to a product by a combination of helpful feedback and a measure of sales. My damage is with people who I've seen try samples of cheese, then proceed to act like they're going to hurl all over the floor, forcing their friends to console them while they "walk it off" as if they had just taken a shot of bottom-shelf tequila. If it's a particularly pungent or stinky cheese, then before I cut the sample, I'll warn people, especially if they seem like they have no clue what they asked for. Yet I've seen ridiculous performances happen even with milder cheeses. I've also heard similar stories of idiocy from other food vendors.   

At farmers markets, often the person who made the food for you is the person standing right in front of you. Even cheese stores have carefully selected the best products to put on your plate. Would you go to someone's house for dinner and behave that way?  It's nourishment that many people need and don't get, and it was proudly hand-crafted or selected just to make you happy.

Now, if there is a food safety or quality issue (unrelated to your particular taste) and you think it's really going to make people sick, of course let the vendor know (discreetly). You can make your feelings about a product felt by just not buying it anymore. You're even free to leave and discuss your opinions in a more appropriate manner with your friends and other acquaintances. Artisan food producers should be able to tell they're making a crap product when nobody buys it. Everyone is allowed to think a food is disgusting or too expensive (that's another one that drives me crazy -- people blow money on instant gratification snack food from the prepared vendors and then verbally chastise me for a six dollar piece of cheese). If that's the case, then just don't buy it. Clearly the rest of the market disagrees with you if the vendor is successful. Rude and melodramatic samplers do nothing but make both the vendor and the other customers who enjoy the product feel uncomfortable and as if they've done something wrong. In fact, they've done nothing wrong. The only person in the wrong is the idiot who never learned any manners. 

Of course, I don't lash out at the person in return when this occurs. I'm not their mother. And mine taught me not to be rude. I keep my internal monologue, which usually comprises the comments I've made above, internal because to attack a lack of manners with my own rudeness is hypocritical and counterproductive. All I can do is calmly offer them a palate cleanser or platitude about personal taste, or I just wait until they leave. Maybe I could do more, but my thoughts are this: I can't tell them how to behave. These are grown ass people. That ship has obviously sailed for them.

Blue cheese: Gross? Potentially. A torture device? No.
"I just want to be a friend to your belly," says the stinky blue cheese.
Rule of thumb: treat food you don't like as if it were an ugly baby. Be polite, don't act horrified, especially not while the parents are standing right there.  

Fun with Sheep

Yesterday, I put sheep in a head lock and fed them worm medicine. Today, I put on a clean t-shirt and talked cheese to customers at a new farmers market. I honestly love that my days can be so unpredictably different and full of new things that have the potential to scare me. 

The end of breeding season for most of the sheep arrived yesterday. I was told we would be resorting and grouping the sheep based on a system that my feeble mind just barely understood. Then, I heard that we would be “worming.” I had no idea what that meant, but I was frightened. I’ve never had my own pet. So, for me, hearing about someone’s pet having worms gives me the same sick shiver of repulsion that a woman who’s never had a baby gets every time one of her newly pregnant friends talks about child birth.

Worming actually wasn’t that awful. All it involved was shooting a syringe full of milky-colored preventative worm medicine into the sheep’s mouths.  After each sheep was lured into the milking parlor with the promise of grain, we waited until they had sated their hunger from the feed buckets. Then, knowing that asking nicely wouldn’t work, we hooked our arm under each sheep’s head and tried to control their squirming a bit. As quickly as possible, we tucked the syringe into the corner of their mouths and just as they had opened up, ejected the contents of the syringe into the back of their throats. That was the easy part.

Then the sheep had to be sorted into several groups all over again. We recorded the colorful markings on the backside of the sheep that had finished breeding (the marks, as you will recall, are colors that corresponds to the marker harnessed to each ram, indicating that a given ram has had its way with an ewe). Brad and Meg called out each ewe's tag number and the marking color on her butt for me to record. "10137. Green! 8096. Blue! 10058....(pause) Blue, green, yellow and red!?" One ewe apparently approaches breeding season recreationally. She wins.  We had to pull out all the bred sheep and send them out in one big group to the far pasture. Their work for the season is done. We also had to sort out the sheep that had not had any visible markings on them in the last month and place them with a “clean-up” ram to have another go just in case they hadn't gotten knocked up. 

In an exercise that encouraged teen pregnancy, we then guided the younger, chaste sheep into groups and let them have their first crack at breeding with a couple new rams. It was essentially the same process we had accomplished with the older ewes 34 days prior, except this time we would be corrupting a new generation.

Each group had to be led out to pasture separately and guided to different fenced areas. This time there were several more moving parts, as well as many young sheep that had never been through the process before and had never even seen the milking parlor. The young ones were nervous, twitchy, and needed a lot of guiding through each step. The rest hate when they deviate from routine. All the confusion and cornering of sheep to sort and re-sort groups at times led to a melee of chasing, charging, and boxing out. When one sheep wanders off confused, much strategy or bribery with grain is required to guide it to the correct spot. Even then, a skittish sheep might be a hopeless cause until it calms down. Sheep don't do anything intuitively unless it’s with the rest of the flock. At one point we had to bring back an entire flock of sheep from pasture in order to get four sheep that had been left behind to go where they needed to. They had no idea what to do without the rest of their friends.

At first, I was completely unsure of how to get the sheep to move or not move. I mostly just reacted very slowly and stupidly to what needed to be done. Eventually, I think I became a bit more useful (I hope). I kind of understood how the sheep could be wrangled and lured. I ended the day covered in worm medicine and wet sheep. I have so so much respect for cheesemakers who have and care for their own animals; or hell, pretty much anyone who has their own animals. From worms to forced copulation, it’s hard work. People ask me all the time if I want to actually make cheese someday instead of just sell it. I say sure, I love cheesemaking, much more than I even thought I would. Then they ask me what animals I’d have on my farm. And I laugh in their face. I love the experience with the animals, and I enjoy feeling less helpless around them with gained experience. But I just don’t know if I have it in me to care for my very own.

And about that new farmers market: Last Saturday was sadly the last day for my St. Johns market in Portland. I’m still in withdrawal from that delicious bread from the bread guy. I savored my last breakfast bun until it became stale. I loved the people at that market (the vendors and the customers) and really looked forward to my Saturdays. Now, I’ll be attending the market in Puyallup, Washington on Saturday mornings instead, which seems like it will be equally enjoyable. The market is longer (5 hours), but is generally much busier than any of the others I’ve worked in the Northwest. The time passes quickly and there is plenty to see, eat, and buy. During the peak, there are 150 vendors. It is the end of the season, however, so there is only about half that amount right now. Today was an unusually slow customer traffic day for this particular market, so I hope I’m not bad luck. Also, I don’t get hooked up with awesome bread and vegetables like at St. Johns. In fact, the bread vendor sucks and the Mexican food across from me is way overpriced ($4 for an empanada that tastes like a 75 cent doughnut?!). At least there’s pie from a boisterous pie guy who’s been making pies since his 4-H days in the 1950s. I look forward to trying that next week. 

I promise, someday soon, more pictures.