Making Camembert: A Slideshow

This young Camembert will soon be covered by a thin layer of 

white mold, which the French poetically call, "croûte fleurie."

On the first day of the cheesemaking workshop, we made Camembert while the Cheddar was being pressed.  As you will see in the slideshow, the process for making this soft-ripened cheese does not include several of the steps that Cheddar requires, such as scalding and milling the curd, and pressing the cheese under weights.  

Camembert is an unpressed cheese, its curd drained exclusively by gravity.  A Camembert mold is 4.5 inches tall, and the curd initially fills it to the brim.  After several hours of draining, during which time the cheese is flipped in the mold, the curd settles to about one-third of the height of the mold.   

Jim explained that the drying process of the molded cheese is important in its rind development: blue mold may develop if the Camembert is not dried thoroughly, but the white mold will not form at all if it is too dry.  The rind is actually a product of three distinct microbe populations: yeast, geotricum, and P. candidum.  Full development of the rind takes about two weeks, and the interior of the Camembert will ripen over the following one to two weeks.  Of course, that's a matter of personal preference.  

View the Camembert slideshow.

Important Announcement

Godzilla, meet Mozzarella.

We interrupt this post series to bring you the following message: I have successfully made soft, creamy, even pillowy mozzarella.  My own fiore di latte.   I used a water bath in the sink to control the temperature, reduced the amount of culture and rennet, and shortened the setting time.  Knowledge is power, my friends.

We now return to your regularly-scheduled posting.

Making Cheddar: A Slideshow

Cheddar likes to work under pressure.

Cheddar was the first cheese that we tackled in Jim Wallace's Advanced Cheesemaking workshop.    

For a detailed synopsis of cheddar making, view my slideshow.  Display the descriptive captions by selecting "Options" in the lower-right corner.

My First Batch of Mozzarella

Mozzarella is a pasta filata cheese, meaning that its curd is stretched or pulled.

This spring, I am beginning to make fresh cheeses at home.  This category of cheese, including such favorites as cream cheese, cottage cheese, and fromage blanc, are among the simplest dairy products to make, along with butter and yogurt.  While hard cheeses require aging in proper conditions (high humidity and constant temperature around 55 degrees), fresh cheeses are ready for consumption or refrigeration right away.

My goal in these first weeks of cheesemaking, apart from its edible rewards, is to understand the process of milk becoming cheese.  On one hand, the mechanics are so simple that they take care of themselves: microbes in fresh, raw milk convert lactose into lactic acid, increasing the acidity of the milk and causing the separation of curd and whey.  It is the cheesemaker's task to control the conditions of this process-- ingredients, temperature, timing, and sanitation-- to produce the desired outcome of edible cheese instead of spoiled milk.  

On this day, I was intent on crafting fresh mozzarella, using the method described in Ricki Carroll's popular book, Home Cheese Making, and materials purchased from her business, New England Cheesemaking Supply.  I used unpasteurized milk from Cook Farm, which is licensed by the state to sell it at their farm store.*  

You may view my slideshow of photos with captions describing the process of making mozzarella.

The process to make this mozzarella called for two gallons of milk, and took over five hours.  During this time, I monitored the temperature and acidity of the milk almost constantly.  I used pH test strips to test the acidity of the milk periodically.  Though it was difficult to get a precise reading, I could determine that the pH was decreasing, as it was meant to do.  The large pot containing the milk was set in a hot water bath over a low, gas flame.  It was difficult to maintain the 90 degree temperature the recipe called for-- the temperature kept creeping up to 100 degrees.  Curd formation happened quickly, so I felt reassured that I was on the right track in spite of these snags.  

Overall, my first batch of mozzarella was successful: its flavor was fresh, it melts beautifully, and no one who ate it suffered gastric distress.  However, its texture was tough, even rubbery.  This unfortunate feature revealed itself in the curd-cutting stage, when I had to secure the slippery curd mass with a spatula so that I could pull the knife through it.  I could tell when stretching the cheese that it wasn't going to have cloud-like consistency.  

Jim Wallace, the technical advisor at NECS, informed me that farm-fresh milk may require less rennet and lower temperature to set.  It seems that my raw milk is really eager to become cheese.  For the next batch of mozzarella, I won't use a double boiler at all, but will warm the milk in a sinkful of warm water.  I'll use less rennet to promote a softer curd.  

I kept several pieces of brined mozzarella in the refrigerator for eating over the following few days, and froze the rest in individual baggies of brine.  We'll use them to top homemade pizza over the next few weeks.  

If this account has prompted a craving for fresh mozzarella, there are quicker options for making it in your own kitchen.  NECS sells kits to make 30 Minute Mozzarella using your microwave.  Other companies sell fresh mozzarella curd, ready to be submerged in hot water, stretched, and shaped.  

Stay tuned for more cheesemaking adventures!

*The decision to consume raw milk products is a personal one.  I have a healthy immune system and trust the farm that supplies my raw milk.  Women who are pregnant or nursing, the elderly, and people with compromised immune systems are advised to avoid raw milk.  In the U.S., it is illegal to sell a raw milk cheese that has been aged less than 60 days.  An Internet search will provide information from both sides of the raw milk debate.

Celebrate Cheese: Two Goat's Milk Varieties

Coach Farm Triple Cream Wheel is a special, elegant goat's milk cheese from New York.

Raw Goat's Milk Cheddar from Ozark Hill Farm is a cheese that will please a wide audience.

Loulou, an ex-pat blogger in southern France, invited her readers to celebrate cheese for the eighth annual Journée Nationale du Fromage, the National Day of Cheese, on March 28.  I had an idea to try a soft-ripened, French goat's milk cheese; after all, it was a French holiday.  However, the cheese that beckoned from the assortment at Whole Foods was a tall, snow-white wheel from Coach Farm in New York.  The Triple Cream Wheel is mold-ripened, with a two-toned paste that offers subtle differences in texture and flavor.  I was also struck by its price tag: at $36.99/lb, it's on the upper-end of the bulk cheese market.  I attribute this to the extra goat's milk that must be used to enhance the butterfat content of the cheese.  A sample  assured me that it was a good investment.

Triple Cream Wheel has a silky mouthfeel, with mellow herbal notes and lingering minerality.  I thought that it had just the right amount of salt: if over-salted, triple-cream cheese just tastes like butter to me.  The distinctive tanginess of goat's milk is balanced by the creaminess of this award-winning cheese.  It's perfect for serving to company after a springtime lunch or after dinner.  To accompany it, I would choose a white wine with good minerality and medium acidity, like a dry Chenin Blanc. It would also be fun to pair a fruit wine or fruit-based cocktail (e.g. kir royale) with this cheese.  I suggest eating Triple Cream Wheel with a fork and knife, but if you must have crackers, choose a wheat or oat biscuit with a hint of sweetness.

To give the fête its proper respect, I also picked up a raw goat's milk Cheddar at the Brattleboro Co-op's cheese counter.  It's a flavorful, versatile cheese that I would offer to goat's milk skeptics.  The satisfying texture of Cheddar and a lingering sweetness make this an approachable cheese.  Enjoy it with a light red wine, cider, or brown ale.  This Cheddar is produced by Ozark Hill Farm in Missouri; if you cannot find it in your area, then look for Fromagerie Tournevent's version, Le Chevre Noir.

Both of these cheeses are tasty and mild, and offer delicious alternatives to the usual cow's milk varieties.  Try something new, and celebrate your own cheese discoveries!

Verdant and Victorious

My maternal grandparents grew up in a rural community in northeastern Mississippi.  My grandmother, along with her nine siblings, composed the labor force on their parents' small farm.  As a child, I loved hearing her stories about picking cotton, swimming in the cow pond, and swiping eggs from the henhouse to exchange for a Baby Ruth at the general store (run by her grandfather).  Her after-school snack, she told me many times, was a turnip or onion pulled from the garden on her way in the door.

While my choice of snack was different (butter-and-sugar sandwich, anyone?), the meals I ate at Maw-Maw's house included the foods that she'd prepared her whole life: butter beans, grown on Paw-Paw's farm in Liberty, Mississippi, and canned in their kitchen; boiled red potatoes with white sauce; ripe tomatoes from the garden; turnip greens, which my mom liked to eat with pepper vinegar; and a cast iron skillet of cornbread, which never contained wheat flour or sugar.  Paw-Paw enjoyed leftover cornbread with milk for his breakfast, while I chose Maw-Maw's biscuits with homemade peach and huckleberry preserves.  

A theme of Maw-Maw's stories was growing up poor during the Great Depression.  However, her family's hard work on their farm meant that they never went hungry like so many others did.  Growing food was something that she had always done, and was common in rural communities at that time.  During WWII, the Victory Garden movement expanded small-scale food production to urban areas, as well, in support of the war effort.

If its popularity on the blogsphere is any indication, the Victory Garden concept is experiencing a renaissance.  Its relevance extends beyond our status as a nation at war: we are also a nation facing rising food costs, unease over food security, and backlash against industrial agriculture.  Backyard gardening offers a hobby that helps us feed ourselves.  

As a garden neophyte living in Zone 5, I'm relieved to find a plentiful supply of garden blogs and even support networks online.  I've signed up for the Growing Challenge, organized by Melinda at Elements in Time.  Participants commit to growing one more fruit or vegetable crop than they did last year, and to publishing weekly posts about their gardening activity.  I'm also joining the Victory Garden Drive led by Pattie at Foodshed Planet, whose goal is to inspire two million new organic gardens this year.  Pattie also encourages experienced gardeners to mentor those of us whose thumb color is yet undetermined.  To find a companion gardener, or to "Take Five" new gardeners under your wing, check this post.

In addition to my gardening posts, I'll also provide a blogroll of gardening resources that I come across.  Reader contributions are also welcome, particularly if you garden in Zone 5!

That's Just Not Natural

Handi-Snacks on a Plane

On the six-hour flight to Las Vegas, our Southwest flight attendant made her way up the aisle, distributing mystery snack boxes.  I knew this couldn’t be very promising (seeing as the boxes gave off no scent-- dead giveaway of real food), but I can’t deny a little feeling of anticipation-- maybe there was a granola bar in there.

No.  The box contained a 100-calorie bag of cardboard wafers with “chocolatey” chips, an extruded meat stick, and Handi-Snaks.  That’s right, Handi-Snacks, processed cheese product conveniently packaged with oddly-sweet “breadsticks.”

My initial reaction to this unnatural food was repulsion, but then I realized how hypocritical that was.  Considering that our destination was, despite all appearances, in the middle of the desert, aren’t foods like Handi-Snaks more ecologically sound than the fresh foods that I wanted to eat?  After all, processed foods require no post-production inputs to maintain their (and I use this word generously) edibility.  The greens in the salad I ate that night were grown in on monocultural factory farm, sustained by water that likely didn’t fall from the sky, and refrigerated from the time it was picked until it ended up on my plate in Nevada.

Maybe you don’t want to think about food in such complicated terms.  I don’t blame you, because I certainly don’t want to make the choices to never travel, to give up fresh vegetables in the winter, to never again taste the delicacies of France, Spain, or Italy, not to mention their wines.  But I can’t deny that my food choices are important: at this point, they’re important to the small dairies, egg producers, and cheesemakers in my community, whose products I seek out consistently.  

Small changes, on the large scale of consumer behavior, are already transforming the food economy, from the recovering number of small producers to the success of regional farmers' markets, and the big players are noticing.  I think that our nation's path toward sustainable agriculture will strengthen our economy, our collective health, and our culture.

Don’t Count Your Food Miles*

Enjoying my main course and my company at Bouchon.

If you have missed me for the past few days, it’s because I was in Las Vegas with my wonderful husband, Charles.  While neither of us would think, “Vegas!” as our destination of choice, I was thrilled to join him for his business trip.

Of course, I had done some research into the restaurants we should check out there.  We took an Olympic approach to selecting our dining options, ruling out those at the very top and bottom of the spectrum.  Thus, no casino buffets, but no Guy Savoy, either.  No worries, I was perfectly content to settle for Thomas Keller.

We dined at Thomas Keller’s Bouchon on the second evening of our trip. An impromptu dinner at Wolfgang Puck’s Postrio, also in the Venetian, had disappointed us with tough ravioli and poor service the night before.  I hoped that Mr. Keller’s bistro would survive the journey from Napa Valley artisanship to Las Vegas volume. 

The meal was excellent.  Our server was efficient and knowledgeable, with the added charm of a faux French accent.  I didn’t believe Charles’s suspicion until the server  mumbled, “Sorry, I don’t speak French,” when the diners next to us requested a carafe d’eau!  It’s all part of the show, folks.

I enjoyed a small carafe of Vouvray, while my sweetheart was in the mood for beer (not a bad call when there’s Chimay on tap!).  We started with cod brandade, perfectly fried with a delicate, fluffy interior enlivened by bits of sweet-tart dried tomato and fried sage on the plate.  Our salads were fresh and flavorful, though both of us preferred the baby arugula, pear, and hazelnut brittle combination to the too-bitter mixture of watercress, endive, apple, and Roquefort.  

For his main course, Charles chose the classic trout almandine, accompanied by a generous serving of firm, sweet green beans.  I had mussels in white wine sauce-- not the best sauce I’ve ever had, but I award extra points for presentation.  The mussels bathed in an egg-shaped, cast-iron vessel, in which a small gate created a pool of broth for dipping the perfectly-crisp baguette.  There were also two shell bowls stacked together, solving the problem of a large shell bowl dominating our two-top: when the top bowl was full, it was promptly removed.  

The service details like this, the artful presentation of each dish, the graciousness of the place: these are the elements that set a great restaurant apart from the trappings of such.  I was entertained by the make-believe elements Vegas offered: window-shopping along a replica canal, strolling along lush gardens and man-made lakes in the middle of the desert.  But hospitality must be genuine, no matter how many times you have to look someone in the eye, listen, and smile in a given day.  Bravo to Thomas Keller and the staff of Bouchon for delivering a superior dining experience to their guests.

*A simple definition of food miles is the distance that food travels from its production to the consumer.  Food miles are one component that can be used in assessing the sustainability of food production and distribution.