Respecting Ricotta

Last week, an article in The New York Times praised the simplicity and versatility of fresh ricotta.  Several chefs declare that fresh ricotta can be profoundly delicious when served with a few intensely-flavored ingredients.  I had never considered ricotta to be a destination cheese, rather a quick stop on the journey of making lasagna, but I'd also never made my own.  My copy of Home Cheese Making in hand, I decided to follow the chefs' advice to make a batch of ricotta.

Traditionally made from the leftover liquid of cheesemaking, true ricotta is a whey cheese.  The butterfat and casein (curd-producing protein) of the milk have gone into the first cheese, leaving albuminous proteins and a bit of lactose floating around in a lot of water.  Whey ricotta (ri cotta, "to cook again") is produced by convincing those albuminous proteins that they want to be cheese, too.  This is rather tricky to do, and whey ricotta is a very low yield cheese: even the experts expect to produce only a cup or two of ricotta from two gallons of whey.  I have had very limited success producing ricotta from my mozzarella whey; however, the few curds I did manage to round up were quite tasty.  

The chefs in the NYT article either had whey ricotta flown in from Italy, or they made whole-milk ricotta in their kitchens.  Whole-milk ricotta eliminates the need for fresh whey (and a day of cheesemaking), and it offers a yield of up to two pounds of cheese per gallon of milk.  Raw milk may be used, because the high temperatures required to curdle albuminous protein also pasteurize the milk.  

The cheesemaking process is simple, the only special ingredient being citric acid, which I didn't have.  I squeezed some fresh lemon juice into the milk, then heated it until it curdled around 180°F.  The curds formed more gradually than I expected, likely due to the lemon juice substitution, but they tasted fresh and sweet.  I will look for citric acid to try in future batches of ricotta; I've heard it can be found at the pharmacy.  I've also seen recipes that call for fresh buttermilk.

I drained the ricotta for only a few minutes, keeping its texture a little loose like cottage cheese.  We were surprised by the sweetness of the ricotta, which isn't notable in the cheese from supermarket tubs.  Its sweetness foiled our appetizer of ricotta on garlic toast; however, I imagine that ricotta and tomato would make a toothsome bruschetta topping.  

Though my savory applications of fresh ricotta need a little fine-tuning, the next morning's breakfast combination was dead-on.  A dollop of ricotta on cinnamon-raisin Ezekiel bread with a drizzle of honey and scattering of walnuts... mmm, divine.

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.

Out-of-Town Adventures

Bonding with Herman the Hound at my parents' home in Tennessee.

I've been enjoying a sneak peek of spring this week, visiting my family (parents, little sister, six dogs, two cats) and friends in Middle Tennessee. There's enough of a chill to keep the pellet stove in use in my family's log home; however, the area's hills are cloaked in soft, lush shades of green.

I did my best to get the household members excited about cultured butter, promising to churn a batch using fresh cream from Hatcher Family Dairy in nearby College Grove, TN. Conveniently, the dairy was represented at Saturday's farmer's market at The Factory, a group of 1929 brick buildings converted to retail space in Franklin, TN. A trip to The Factory was already scheduled: Saturday is Adoption Day at Happy Tales Humane, a "no-kill" animal shelter where my mom volunteers. Two rat terrier pups, the last of a litter that she'd rescued from county animal control, found new families that morning. Congratulations, Cricket and Peanut!

If only the butter had been so successful. I set out three pints of the Hatchers' cream to ripen for several hours. In the meantime, my best friend came over, made us all laugh until our sides ached, and gave me a new hairstyle (v. successful, in my opinion: bobbed and red!). We set about whipping the cream with a hand mixer, visions of buttermilk pancakes dancing in our heads. After half an hour, and attempting to shake the butter in Mason jars, we realized that the endeavor was fruitless-- the cream was frothy, but it hadn't even formed peaks. I retrieved an empty bottle and finally realized that the product was "Whole Cream--Rises to the Top!" Aha. Not heavy cream. Not going to make butter.

Luckily, the fam owns an ice cream machine that exists, as many of its kind, in nearly-permanent hibernation. I adapted Alton Brown's eggless ice cream recipe to make Balsamic Strawberry Ice Cream for a dinner party tonight. I'll also be bringing a wheel of Cowgirl Creamery's St. Pat, an organic, soft ripened cow's milk cheese wrapped in nettle leaves. I found it, among a bustling brunch crowd, at Marche Artisan Foods, a new spot in East Nashville. I liked the cheese for its consistency and herbal flavor, and was glad to have found the seasonal cheese. However, I would have chosen Mt. Tam in retrospect: a triple-cream is a crowd-pleaser, and Mt. Tam is all gentle richness. I'm still on the look-out for Cowgirl Creamery's Red Hawk, a popular washed-rind cheese... probably the most-requested domestic cheese that I didn't sell in my cheesemonger days.

This trip also yielded a regional cheese discovery: Kenny's Farmhouse Cheese produces raw-milk, semi-firm and blue cheeses in Barren County, Kentucky. The Mattingly family was inspired by the cheese production of family farms in Europe, and embraced the concept of farmstead cheesemaking. Their cheeses are produced with milk from their 120-cow herd, and are made with vegetarian rennet. Kenny's Smoked Gouda was the perfect topping for our fajitas over the weekend. We found Kenny's Cheese at Dennison's Roadside Market in Horse Cave, KY, but there are many retailers listed on the company's website.

Tomorrow, I return to Massachusetts. Maybe springtime will be there to greet me.

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!

Mummy Dearest

You like Cheddar, right?  Sure, everybody likes Cheddar!  Whether it's cut from a shrink-wrapped block, peeled out of a wax sheath, or sliced from a bandage-wrapped truckle... wait a minute.  What's that dirty rag doing on my cheese?

Fear not, my friend, the traditional trappings of Cheddar.  Unlike wax or plastic, a layer of bandage around the rind allows the cheese to breathe and to lose moisture as it ages.  Matured for at least ten months, bandage-wrapped Cheddar gains a crumbly texture and develops an astonishing range of flavors.  

Of course, what's inside counts, as well.  Traditional Cheddar is made with unpasteurized milk and animal-derived rennet.  It perfectly demonstrates why raw milk cheese has a dedicated following: the subtle characteristics of the milk are amplified in the finished cheese.  Take the English farmhouse classics, Keen's and Montgomery's Cheddars.  Though they are created by the same process,* Keen's exhibits a vegetal, horseradish-like bite and gingery spiciness, while Montgomery's has a mellow meatiness and suggestion of sweetness.  Don't be alarmed to by a faintly musty scent or a few streaks of blue-green mold near the surface-- they are only evidence of a proper upbringing.

American examples, too, elicit a greater vocabulary than "mild" and "sharp."  Hailing from California, Fiscalini Farmstead's Bandage Wrapped Cheddar is redolent of butter and nuts.  The award-winning Cabot Clothbound Cheddar fills your mouth with sweet richness, and lingers just a moment too short-- must have another taste!  And though I haven't had the pleasure of trying it myself, I hear that Bleu Mont Dairy offers a full-flavored, bandage-wrapped specimen in Wisconsin.

Before we part ways in search of fine Cheddar, let me share some happy news: Grafton Village Cheese, a venerable producer of Vermont Cheddar, has its own cloth-wrapped version waiting patiently in the aging cellars of Jasper Hill Farm.  I have a feeling that the Cave-Aged Cheddar will reveal the distinct richness of Jersey milk, which Grafton uses in all of its Cheddars.

Do you know of other bandage-wrapped Cheddars produced in the US?  Post a comment to share your experiences!

Resources

*Click through the cheddar-making process (no bandage-wrapping)-- Grafton Village Cheese

Beautiful photos of making and aging famous English Cheddars-- Neal's Yard Dairy

Account of a visit to some of England's great cheese producers-- Artisanal Cheese Journal

Savoie Fare II: The Return of Reblochon?

About a year ago, I was running a cheese counter in a store near Chicago.  I love talking about cheese as much as writing about it, so it was a treat to get to know customers and help them get to know our cheeses.  Usually, this was gratifying: watching someone leave their comfort zone and fall in love with something unexpected; identifying a flavor from their past and sending them home with a wedge to savor; figuring out a fun, unique combination of cheeses for a special occasion.

Inevitably, there were disappointments: someone would request a specific cheese that we didn't have or couldn't get.  When a cheesemonger "can't get" something, it usually means one of two things: a) the cheese took "Best in Show" at the American Cheese Society conference; b) the cheese is made with raw milk and aged for less than 60 days.  Thanks to a great distributor,  we were blessed with an enviable supply of Cabot Clothbound Cheddar (ACS Best in Show, 2006); however, not even they could deliver the sublime, delicious (and illegal) Reblochon.

Reblochon, from the same region as Tomme de Savoie, has a luxurious, melting texture that makes people fall in love with French cheese.  Its flavor is mellow and creamy, with undertones of bacon and walnuts, and it has the mouthfeel of fudge.  There is an appealing, funky scent to the cheese, but it is not overwhelming like some washed-rind cheeses.  I love it at room temperature, smeared onto some rustic bread.  It is also popularly enjoyed in the regional dish, tartiflette, in which it serves as the gooey topping over potatoes, onions, and bacon.

If you were to smuggle some of this precious, unpasteurized cheese past customs officials, you'd only be respecting tradition.  The original makers of this cheese, taxed on their milk production, devised a scheme to fool the tax man.  They'd short-milk the herd, wave au revoir to the inspector, and go back for reblochon, "a second pinching of the udders."  The resulting milk had higher fat content than the reported milk, and went into the family's private cheese creation.

Alas, Reblochon comes of age around 45 days, and is overripe at 60... or so I thought.  A non-AOC* version of the cheese, Fromage de Savoie, has spotty availability in the US.  Recently, I found a wheel at Whole Foods-- not in a secret back room, but in full display of the open cheese case.  The label proclaimed "au lait cru," and it tasted full-flavored and perfectly ripe.   I can't explain how it's available, but I'm thrilled.  If you have any insight, please post a comment!

If you can't find Fromage de Savoie, Edel de Cleron and Fromager des Clarines are excellent, pasteurized cheeses in that style.

*AOC (appellation d'origine controlee) status indicates that the product is produced in the traditional manner in a specified, geographical area.  Similar systems exist for Italian and Spanish products.  Some examples include Roquefort, Parmigiana-Reggiano, and Rioja.

Savoie Fare

At one o'clock, Tomme de Savoie; nine o'clock, Fromage de Savoie

I would like to introduce to you one of my oldest cheese friends, Tomme de Savoie.  I came across Tomme during my college semester at University de Savoie in Chambery, France.  Another exchange student directed me to take the bus to the Carrefour store outside of town, which she described as the French version of Target.  My expedition yielded such treasures as an all-purpose pot for the kitchenette and scented, pink toilet paper (with the texture of  finest-grit sandpaper) for the bathroom I shared with my three suitemates.  But I was blown away by the dairy section of the megastore: two mosaic aisles of yogurt and dairy confections (including yogurt flavors such as coconut and watermelon, and dark chocolate mousse in six-packs), an aisle devoted to butter, and a cheese counter populated by three fromagiers and a crowd of unknown cheeses.  A patient fromagiere listened to enough of my stumbling French to determine that I was as ignorant of the cheeses of France as I was of her language; wisely, she steered me toward the family of Tomme, whose members were squat, unassuming, and unquestionably local.  I tasted slivers of several, including one covered with grape must and another made from goat's milk, but chose to take home the simple Tomme de Savoie au lait vache cru (raw cow's milk).

A couple of months later, I got to know Tomme more personally on a journey to her homeland.   One of my new French friends had a brother who was getting married in her hometown of Boege in Haute-Savoie.  He was a chef in Geneva, and a lavish wedding dinner was planned; would I like to serve at the feast?  Oui! 

In addition to her chef-brother, ma copine also has a cheesemaker-father who crafted the regional specialties: Abondance, Reblochon, and my buddy, Tomme de Savoie.  He showed me the small, tidy room where he heated fresh cow's milk in a large vat, and the compact cellar where immature wheels slowly ripened into luscious Savoyard classics.  Outside, he pointed to the hilltops across the valley, where his herd of cows spent the warm days in high-altitude pasture.  The beauty and serenity of that scene revisits me every time I taste Tomme de Savoie.  

Of course, such an experience is not a prerequisite for enjoying the cheese.  Under its inedible, natural rind, Tomme de Savoie offers a smooth, yellow paste with a mild, nutty flavor and a hint of sharpness.  I recommend cutting one slice at a time and devouring each with a hunk of peasant bread (something with a little rye and molasses).  As for a beverage, nothing too fancy: choose a mellow, brown ale or a soft, red wine to complement the simplicity of this charming cheese.

Note: Despite its tough-looking exterior, I find Tomme de Savoie to be a delicate cheese that suffers quickly when wrapped completely.  To prevent your wedge from deteriorating, cover only its cut faces with plastic wrap and leave the rind exposed to breathe.

Raw Milk Co-Star: Vermont Shepherd

Featured in the photo with Chase Hill Farm Camembert is a wedge of the acclaimed American sheep’s milk cheese, Vermont Shepherd. Vermont Shepherd is also a raw milk cheese, its natural rind formed over a four- to eight-month aging period in a hillside cave. The remarkable quality of this cheese reflects the terroir of the Major Farm in Putney, Vermont, where the herd of ewes graze and are milked, and where the cheese is produced and aged. Vermont Shepherd is a true farmstead cheese, influenced by the Basque cheesemaking traditions that the Majors traveled to the Pyrenees Mountains to learn.

A wheel of Vermont Shepherd has convex sides and a mottled brown, natural rind, resulting from many layers of mold that are brushed smooth during cave-aging. When you sit down to enjoy a wedge of it, you may notice that the rind, which is not meant to be eaten, carries the slightly musty scent of hay. The cheese has a smooth, pale yellow appearance, and its texture is pleasantly dense and tacky in the mouth. Savory from start to finish, the rich flavor of Vermont Shepherd exhibits an initial note of sourness, an indication of its pure ewe’s milk composition (sometimes referred to as “sheepiness”). Its complex flavor is characterized by fleeting herbal notes and a lingering, nutty sweetness.

Vermont Shepherd is a versatile cheese that can be appreciated by connoisseurs and novices alike. With its rich, subtle flavor profile, Vermont Shepherd is complemented by a range of accoutrements, including dried or preserved fruits (the cheesemaker suggests cherry preserves or glazed figs), nuts, or olives. I prefer the intensity of concentrated fruit to fresh fruit with this cheese, and suggest that you save the apples and grapes to accompany other cheeses. Similarly, choose a flavorful beverage to drink with Vermont Shepherd, be it a fruity red or white wine, a semi-dry cider, or a rich, smooth beer.

A Land Where Raw is Rare

Chase Hill Farm Organic Raw Milk Camembert (center)

with Vermont Shepherd (right), quince jelly, and crackers

On a recent visit to the Brattleboro Co-op, I asked John the Cheesemonger to recommend something he was excited about. Cocking one eyebrow for a moment, he directed me toward the Organic Raw Milk Camembert from Chase Hill Farm in Warwick, MA. He said that it isn’t often available, since the cheesemaker must hand-deliver the small wheels immediately on their 60th day of life. Why the hurry, you ask? Under federal law, cheese made with raw (unpasteurized) milk must be aged 60 days before consumption. While some styles of cheese adapt well to a two-month aging, soft-ripened cheeses (e.g. brie, camembert) approach or exceed peak ripeness during that period. In general, camembert reaches its peak at four or five weeks.

In countries where this restriction does not exist (France, Italy, Canada, and many more), the consumer is free to enjoy her camembert at any time after its three-week ripening period. Political questions aside, this is important because the flavor and texture of soft-ripened cheeses change dramatically over a few weeks. Upon opening my wheel of Chase Hill Camembert, I noticed the odor of ammonia on its rind, an indication of over-ripeness. The odor faded over the hour that I left the cheese open at room temperature, and I cut it in half to discover its uniformly oozing paste. The scent of the paste was mild and fresh, with a scent of sweet clover. The first bite carried the flavor of fresh milk, though it was quickly overpowered by a sharp bitterness. Eating the rind with the paste actually tempered the bitterness, and quince jelly on a cracker was an excellent combination with the camembert. The cheese was obviously high-quality, but it was overripe for my taste. What a shame I couldn’t enjoy it at its peak!

I will save the government-agribusiness conspiracy theory for the topic of NAIS, because my conclusion is that raw milk cheese is simply misunderstood in the US. From what I have read, I am confident that further research, as is being conducted at the University of Vermont through a USDA grant, will prove the safety of consuming raw milk cheese. Proponents of raw milk cheese argue that pasteurization of the milk used to make the cheese is irrelevant because dangerous pathogens in cheese are a result of improper production or mishandling.

I am in favor of lifting the restrictions against raw milk cheese for two practical reasons. First, as a consumer, I want to have the choice of what kind of cheese to buy, from whom, at what time. I have the legal right to order a rare hamburger at a restaurant (yuck) despite health risks; why can’t I eat my camembert when it still has some springy life under its rind? Secondly, the fantastic artisan cheese producers across the US should have every tool available to them when crafting their products. If they wish to use fresh, unpasteurized milk in a farmstead cheese, it should be their right.

I believe that the raw milk cheese controversy will ultimately benefit the artisan cheese industry in the US. It has led to self-imposed efforts by producers to maximize sanitation standards, illustrated by the pilot program to develop HACCP plans for farmstead cheese producers. It is my hope that this program will be implemented by the time the restrictions on raw milk cheese are lifted.

In the meantime, you can enjoy excellent cheese made by skilled producers. The flavor of high-quality milk is enjoyable even after undergoing pasteurization. If you sample the wonderful variety of American artisan cheese available today, I’m sure you’ll find some solace from the raw milk cheese debate.

Recommended article:
“The Myths About Raw Milk Cheese,” by Janet Fletcher