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.