From One Empire to My Own: So Begins A Cheese Career

A little over three weeks ago I had an apartment in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn. A little over four weeks ago, I had a job in an amazing, well-respected cheese shop in NYC, learning from supremely knowledgeable cheesemongers. Today, I've put almost 2,000 miles on the road as I sit in a small border town looking for a house in city limits that will let me keep a would-be pet goat in the backyard.

Soon, you will be mine. 

Drastic changes are no stranger to me, but this time it's a little scarier. I'm back in Del Rio, starting the long arduous process of constructing a career for myself where one doesn't exist. As much as I loved making cheese in Waco the last time I was here, the 10-hour commute is off the table now. Have you seen the price of gas?! Have you seen the miles I've put on my 14-year-old Honda in the last two years?!

I'm excited that we're here on a protracted-temporary basis for a very good reason (the soon-to-be husband landed his dream job here for the next 3 years, give or take a few months). But it also means I officially begin choosing paths that carry real consequence. Grown-up financial investments and long-term plans no longer take a back seat to temporary gigs that allow me to educate myself about the industry and the product. I've made cheese for a year and mongered cheese for a year. I will always be learning, but my training is officially over. I'm on my own now.

I discovered a lot in New York that will help guide me as I move forward in earnest. One, the cheese business is not pure. The first job I had in New York, which shall remain nameless (but is easily discovered by perusing earlier posts), was awful. It was the law firm of cheese. Nay, it was worse. I respect law firms for what they are -- a necessary cog in the corporate marketplace, where I just didn't happen to fit in. At least they own up to what they are and compensate you accordingly. An evil, mismanaged cheese shop is like a PT Cruiser -- a mutant monstrosity with no business existing and ruining a perfectly fine and joy-inducing industry.

From the cheese empire that almost ruined my time in the Empire State, I learned how NOT to run a shop. I'm thankful for that. And despite dreading every work-day within the first two months there, I did learn how to be a good manager and met some life-long friends in my co-workers. I'm also thankful that it led me to New York, which I loved in its own right, and where I moved on to a magical place in Brooklyn known as the Bedford Cheese Shop. It was there I learned to really be a cheesemonger. I was introduced to hundreds of imported and domestic cheeses and learned to navigate through them all in order to satisfy customers' often passive and indecisive desires. I met some amazing cheesemongers, who taught me so much about good cheese, good food, and good times. Plus, I got pretty confident at cutting pieces off giant wheels with just a knife and brute force.

I really miss Bedford and my co-workers from both shops. I've lived in alot of places, but I've never been immediately homesick for anywhere other than my actual home in Kansas...until now. Even the good mongering experiences taught me something unexpected about my end-goal of owning a cheese business:  Unless it's really small, I don't think I want to run a true cheese shop. In the end, owning and running a storefront leaves little time to actually work with customers and the cheese. Most of your time is spent sitting in a back room on the computer or phone, which is exactly the reason I ran away from the professional world.

I would miss working with my hands and on my feet. Even behind the counter, I kind of missed getting my hands in the vat and working on the farm. Plus, as much as meeting a great customers is rewarding, the horrible ones can cancel out the day. Retail, much like law, will drive you to the bottle.

The last year re-calibrated my desires back to pursuits like cheese production and cheese education, where I can sell in small doses at farmers markets, work directly with the product, and meet interested consumers. Del Rio still has the opportunity to be a fun adventure and a blank slate of opportunities, as it was during my last stint here. This time I just I have to construct that opportunity on my own and stick with it. So begins the adventure: getting married, getting a house, getting a goat, and getting the balls to start on a career path that will cause me to loose money for years before I can make any.