Zuppa Molise

Nothing new to say about cheese this week, but tonight for dinner Shelly whipped up a fantastic soup, and the recipe is worth sharing.  Truth be told, we got the basic idea for this dish from good ole' Lidia Bastianich.  You know, this woman:

We recently saw an episode of her show, Lidia's Italy, in which she prepared two types of soups native to the Molise region.  But after we searched high and low for the recipes online and found niente, we decided to give it a go from memory.  The recipe that follows, therefore, is really some sort of amalgamation of Lidia's two dishes with Shelly's own personal touches here and there.

Ingredients:
2-3 tbsp. olive oil
1 medium-sized onion, diced
2 tsp. salt, plus more to taste
1 bay leaf
1 large Idaho potato, cubed
3 tbsp. tomato paste
2 vine tomatoes, diced
3-4 stalks celery, diced
2-3 large chard leaves, chopped
1/4-1/2 lb. scallops
1/4-1/2 lb. peeled, de-veined med. shrimp
9-10 cups boiling water
1 chicken bouillon cube (optional)

1 1/2 cups tacozze (rough, square-cut pasta):
3 cups flour
3/4 cup water
pinch of salt

First, prepare the dough for the pasta.  Pour all three cups of flour into a food processor and add the water and salt until the dough is firm and workable.  Sprinkle with a little extra flour, knead dough for a minute and wrap with cellophane.  Set aside in the refrigerator for at least a half hour.

In the meantime, dice and cube the vegetables.  Then, in a large pot, sweat the onions in the olive oil over medium-high heat and add 1 tsp. of salt.  Toss in the potatoes and add the bay leaf, then stir in the remaining tsp. of salt and allow the onions and potatoes to carmelize.  After 5-6 minutes, clear away a spot in the bottom center of the pot and spoon in the tomato paste.  Let the paste simmer (Lidia calls it "toasting" the paste) before adding the vine tomatoes, celery and chard.

Once your vegetables are hot and coated with tomato paste, pour in boiling water (we boiled it in our tea pot).  Stir a few times and let it lightly boil for about an hour so as to reduce to approximately half the original liquid mixture.

Meanwhile, sprinkle flour over a flat surface.  Knead the dough and cut it into four equal-sized rounds.  Roll each round into a flat, 1/8" thick rectangle.  Using a pizza or pasta cutter, cut the rectangles into small squares, approximately 1" x 1" each.  Coat the squares with a little extra flour and set them aside, then repeat the process with the remaining three rounds.  Set all the fresh pasta aside until the liquid mixture has reduced.

Once the soup has reduced enough, season to taste (more salt? a little pepper?).  Then add the scallops.  After 2 minutes, shake any excess flour off the fresh pasta and add it to the soup.  After 2 minutes, turn off the burner and add the shrimp.  Let the scallops and shrimp continue to cook for 3 minutes or so before ladling.

Here's what our finished product looked like:

Great with a glass of dry white wine.  Buon appetito.

Where do the days go?  It's been over three weeks since my last post...

I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I've simply been a bit lazy.  On the other hand, I am back into the thick of teaching, and on top of that, a nasty cold has been pestering the Wilson-Waldvogel family.  Who wants a big hunk of cheese when their nose is stuffed up and their taste-buds don't work?

But as soon as we began to feel better, we purchased a few tasty wedges from The Bedford Cheese Shop: Cato Corner's Hooligan and Andante Creamery's Tomme Dolce.

We've wanted to try Hooligan ever since we read Thorpe's mouthwatering analysis of it in The Cheese Chronicles.  But Thorpe is just one of many experts in the field who have celebrated the brilliance of Hooligan.  Another master cheesemonger/purveyor, Patricia Michelson, has this to say about it in her epic, Cheese: The World's Best Artisan Cheeses:

Elizabeth MacAlister and her son Mark have been making cheese since 1997; they have 13 different styles, which are seen in cheese shops and restaurants on the East Coast...Hooligan is a salt-washed-ring cheese with a lovely rich, buttery texture to the pate and patches of white and gray molds on the rind.  The pungent aroma on the orange, slightly sticky rind gives way to the sweet and savory flavors...

She goes on to suggest pairing this raw cow's milk wonder with an Alsace-style wine.  We served it up with olives--

--and a light red, and it didn't disappoint, even in the wake of our colds.  A special thanks to our friend Lauren, who stopped in to Michelson's shop in London, La Fromagerie, and picked up a signed copy of Cheese for us.  Lauren, like all of Cato's Corner's cheeses, comes from the great state of Connecticut.

But cheeses from Andante Dairy come from the West Coast--Petaluma, California, to be exact.  There the master cheesemaker, Soyoung Scanlan, crafts a wide variety of artisan cheeses made from goat and cow's milk supplied by two neighboring dairies.  Scanlan is a rockstar of sorts in the cheesemaking world, and, if tomme dolce were the measuring stick, then rightfully so.

All of Andante's cheeses are named after musical terms or notations, something Scanlan does to pay homage to her past life as a musician.  "Dolce" is no exception, but its name also tell us something else about its production process, which is summed up nicely in this excerpt from an article by a San Francisco food critic:

Using brandy and a plum conserve ... she created a wash for her wheels... It's not uncommon to rub wheels periodically with brandy or grappa to help seal the rind and flavor the cheese, but fruit conserve?

Scanlan washed the wheels with her brandy-conserve mixture every other day at first, tapering off as the 9-pound wheels matured. Released at about 6 months old, the tomme has a thin, even, immaculate rind with some surface mold and a uniform ivory interior with many small openings...

On the tongue, Tomme Dolce is semi-firm and smooth, with a judicious balance of sweet and salt. The aroma suggests caramel, garlic and aged beef, and it just doesn't quit...

Spot on.  I highly recommend it.

A Whirlwind...of Cheese!

It only took about 18 days, but I'm finally feeling like a New Yorker again.  I've been honked at on the BQE, elbowed on a crowded E train, and glared at for snapping intrusive photos with my phone at Whole Foods.  But darn it, if you're going to buy a piece of Parmesan this big--

--and push it around like a baby in a stroller, then I should have the right.  Right? 

Anyway, I always feel particularly New Yorkery every September, when the brutal summer heat yields to cool fall breezes and the promise of a kaleidoscope of beautiful foliage in the parks and to...tornadoes...?  Yep, if you didn't catch the news this week, then you missed the (now confirmed) fact that two tornadoes touched down--one in Queens, one in Brooklyn.  Our neighborhood, fortunately for us, was pretty much unscathed by the storm.  But how about this for a segue: while those twisters might have passed us by, we've been caught up in our own whirlwind...of cheese!

Before school started, we made a quick trip up to Green Mountain National Forest in Vermont, where we camped along the pristine shores of  Branch Pond.  There we enjoyed cooler temperatures, the company of our good friends, Melinda and Attila, and, of course, a well-composed cheese plate:

Who says you can't nibble on a nice Comte and a good Stilton before roasting some meat on a stick?

And speaking of well-composed cheese plates, we chanced upon a nice one at The Richardson in Williamsburg:

Counter-clockwise from left: toasted raisin-walnut baguette, prosciutto, Cabot Clothbound Cheddar, Cypress Grove Humboldt Fog, dates, and toasted sourdough baguette.  Yes.  Awesome.

What struck me the most--and what might strike you--were the portions of cheese.  We couldn't finish them.  And these two cheeses are indeed worth finishing, and they come with my highest recommendation.   But I can do no better than Liz Thorpe:

"[Cabot Clothbound] doesn't even smell like cheese and certainly lacks the tangy sharpness I expect of American cheddar.  Instead it has the pleasantly musty smell of a damp root cellar full of old potato bags, plus a meaty, jerky whiff.  Inside, the pale straw-colored paste has been masterfully pressed smooth...it has a signature candied flavor...with salt...a sweetness that just hangs there, and the first bite is like baked potatoes, tight in their papery jackets, with melted lumps of sweet butter tucked and melting inside..." (Cheese Chronicles, pgs. 119-120).


"A mouthful of Humboldt Fog is like tropical frosting: light and smeary but bright.  Sunny, with a lemony, citrusy tang.  That bloomy encasement softens the zest, though, so it manages to be herbaceous as well" (pg. 198).

But in any cheese vortex, there's bound to be a bad wedge or two.  Last weekend, for instance, we bought an awful quarter pound of Morbier at Fairway.  I've had the stuff before and loved it, but this particular chunk, to quote Shelly, "smelled like sweaty socks and tasted like rotting compost, but definitely not in a good way."  We tossed it out.

Finally, this morning we cruised the Williamsburg Greenmarket and picked up, among other things, a small wedge of Consider Bardwell's Rupert.  The bright yellow raw cow's milk is aged for ten months and, to be brief, has a dynamic fruitiness and a nice, nutty zing.  I'm excited to pair it with a little vino later today...

The cheese tornado will, of course, continue on its path--sweeping me and my cholesterol levels up along with it....

So Much Food, So Little Time...

For me, the return to Brooklyn won't be official until I've made sure that all my favorite neighborhood treats taste as good as I remember.  I'm talking about massaman curry from Amarin, pizza from Fornino, ice cream from Van Leeuwen, bahn mi and heaping bowls of pho from An Nhau...

...just to name a few.  I've spent much of the time that I should probably be writing or reading with a fork in my hand instead. But no, I don't regret a single bite.

Between meals, we've either been catching up with friends or cramming in as much culture, for a lack of a more specific word, as possible.  We've watched a few movies (that you probably saw two years ago), and today we caught the end of two great exhibits at The Brooklyn Museum: "Andy Warhol: The Last Decade," and "Kiki Smith: Sojourn."  No critic am I, but both installations made good use of the space, were well-paced, and--simply put--were entertaining.

Much of the Warhol show featured the 80's pop culture icons he collaborated and associated with (like Basquiat and Keith Haring) or those he interviewed for his magazine or television shows (like Nick Rhodes and Hall & Oates...need I say more?).  Whereas Warhol was pleasing on a visceral, guilty pleasure-sort of level, the Smith exhibit was delicate and thought-provoking.  There was something about Smith's pencil drawings on Nepal paper in particular that appealed to me.  Here's a good example:

Anyway, at the end of our visit we stopped in to the gift shop, where I picked up a cool little coffee table read called Food Lovers' Guide to Brooklyn.  The book, organized by neighborhood, gives  appetizing reviews/previews of many of the best restaurants and specialty shops throughout the borough.  What caught my eye immediately were the names of so many spots in my own neck of the woods that I have yet to set foot in.  Now the book will be a checklist of sorts, and I'll be sure to report my discoveries in future posts.

And, of course, our love affair with cheese continues.  This week's lone choice was a healthy-sized wedge of Spanish Iberico.  None of my pics turned out, so here's one I found on a quick image search:

The hard rind engraved with gray lines, or sometimes zig-zags, is typical of Spanish semi-soft cheeses; if I didn't know it was Iberico that I bought, I might mistake it for Manchego.  But whereas Manchego is mostly made exclusively from sheep's milk, Iberico is usually blended from the milk of the three major Western dairy animals: cow, goat and sheep.  But the cheese we bought did taste a lot like Manchego: a bit hazelnutty, pleasantly (and familiarly) milky-cheddary, with a little bit of tang and bitterness to the finish.  The paste had the perfect resistance to the teeth, and it was easy to slice up into small cracker-sized chunks.  You could cube it for a party tray or even melt it in a grilled cheese.

Okay, now I've gone and made myself all hungry again...  Until next week--

City Mouse!

At last, back in the city.  As promised in last week's post, I'm relaunching under a revised title:

City Mouse (Country Mouse)

The first part of the blog's new URL, mus urbanus, is Latin for "city mouse."  But for the record, I did consider calling it "Scott's Big Blog of Cheese."  In addition to sharing tasting notes on cheese, I plan on writing about the urban farming movement, trips to the farmers' market (sometimes called the greenmarket here in New York), (mis)adventures in at-home cheese making, and--if all else fails--good meals and great recipes.  So, without further ado, here's the first installment...

We drove into the inferno that is Brooklyn on Tuesday and unpacked and organized our apartment.  At the end of the day, we had enough time to reacquaint ourselves with one our most cherished New York activities: the weekly trip to the Red Hook Fairway.  And the best part of any trip to Fairway is a long, drawn-out, if not somewhat officious, visit to the cheese counter.  All of the mongers there indulge our questions and are more than happy to offer free tastes.

This week we settled on two quarter-pound wedges: Irish Cashel Blue and Chimay Trappist:

The Cashel Blue, in the back, is made from pasteurized cow's milk.  It has a wonderfully smooth, buttery paste with a little bit of grittiness in its pockets of blue.  Like most blues, its nose--as its finish--is minerally.  And the taste?  I'd say well-salted, milky, with a pungent fruity-metallicy bite as the blues crumble in your mouth.  In sum, it was great spread on a cracker, and I imagine it would be nice crumbled on a burger.  I recommend it.

The Chimay, front and center, is also a pasteurized cow's milk.  It's made by a farmers' cooperative in Belgium (it's full name, Chimay Trappist, is owed to the Trappist Monks who invented the recipe).  Its rind is washed with the famous beer, and the Fairway packaging suggests that you pair it; but it's quite nice even without the beer. The paste is a firm, almost gelatiny butter, and it is smooth, mellow and nutty to the tastebuds.  It smells milky, maybe a tiny bit ammoniated and animally going in, and--like the beer--it has a slightly bitter finish.  Also nice on a cracker or simply in fingerfulls by itself.

Yesterday morning we made another familiar fieldtrip--this time to the greenmarket at Union Square.  We escaped the oppressive heat under the shelter of Paffenroth Gardens' tent,--

--where we found some amazingly fragrant and colorful produce: peaches, baby melon, kale, garlic, and a pound of fingerlings--

--that'll go nicely with the whole bluefish and fennel we picked up at Fairway.  So far, I can vouch for the kale, which was full of flavor, and the peaches, which are as aromatic and delicate as they are juicy.  Paffenroth, by the way, is located in Orange County, New York, so its produce travels about 60 miles to the Union Square market.

Fair Enough

This just in: the Portage County Fair is fantastic. Earlier today we spent over three hours exploring the fair grounds out in rural Randolph. Most of that time I felt a strange kind of nostalgia for some part of my youth that never really existed...

Why did I skip out on this fair almost every August while I grew up here? What was I doing that was so much cooler than showing a prize angora rabbit or making a diorama out of garden vegetables?

Whatever. This was my chance to make up for lost time, so I made sure that we saw and did as much as we could while there. Here's every last detail of our visit:

10:10 am - Parked, paid admission ($4 for adults, free for toddlers), walked to the "goat" building. There we toured the county's collection of pygmie goats, Dutch Boer goats, and other show breeds. After a few minutes I asked a woman who seemed to be judging them: "Where are the dairy goats showing?" I think that's how you ask the question...

10:30 - Made our way over to the dairy goat competition, where we caught up with Gwenn and Abbe and their caprine-loving ilk. We watched Gwenn and her son, Milo, along with Abbe's daughter, Madeline, parade Goat Creek's two-year old milkers around:


The Goat Creek goats are, from left, the second (Rose), third (Daisy), and fifth (Ginny). These are the same goats Shelly and I practiced milking throughout July and August.

11:00 - My mom met up with us and we roamed stall after stall filled with the county's finest farm animals: sheep, pigs, cows--


--rabbits, chickens, turkeys...even ducks. Because today was the first day of the fair, many of the animals, like this cow, were in the middle of some sort of beauty treatment in preparation for show. For another example of the kind of primping that goes on, this is what Gwenn was up to when we arrived at the dairy goat competition:


11:30 - We explored the farm supply area, which included plots for several tractor dealerships and an antique tractor exhibit. My favorite tractor of all-time, I've decided, is the depression-era McCormick Farmall. Perhaps you'll agree:


Cool machines. Once Rheinhart had his fill of them (well, once we yanked him away), we walked over to the endless sea of carnival food vendors: gyros, burgers, Italian sausages, snow cones, french fries, elephant ears, candied apples, and the list goes on and on...

12:00 - Sat on a picnic bench near the grandstand and chowed on our own high-cholesterol choices: corndog for Hart, onion rings and a slow-cooked ox sandwich for Shelly and me.

12:30 - Toured the Hubbard building, which houses, among other things, the county's biggest and science-fictioniest fruits and vegetables, like these pumpkins--



--and these cabbages:


For the scale of the lower cabbage, think over-sized basketball or, say, a small beach ball. Or Audrey II from Little Shop of Horrors.

12:45 - Took Hart for a spin on the carousel, then on a ride called "Crazy Bus." He had fun, but was also a bit scared. Introduced the little guy to skee ball, then Grandma Pam won him a prize car at the magnetic fishing pond game.

1:00 - Walked all the way back through the fair grounds and out to our car. Nap time for Hart, and the official end of our 2010 summer farm adventure. A strange but satisfying end.

* * *

So what now?

Well, I've enjoyed writing this blog, readers or no. I'd like to continue...

So next week, after we return to the city and get settled, I'd like to "re-launch" under a new title: City Mouse (Country Mouse). I'll be posting about encounters with the urban farming movement; experiences at the green market; tasting notes about good finds at Fairway and the Bedford Cheese Shop; trials in at-home cheesemaking; other such nonsense.

Stay tuned...

Hay & Cupcakes

It's over. Our summer-long internship with Lucky Penny Farm & Creamery has come to a close. On Thursday, Shelly worked at the creamery from 10-4, helping Abbe with a batch of feta. I stopped by mid-afternoon to take one last look around. We celebrated with cupcakes--


--and compulsory farewell photos--


--before exchanging hugs and making our exit. We were sad to go.

The facility has undergone quite a bit of change in just a few short months: a fresh coat of exterior paint, a new (well, reclaimed) walk-in freezer, donated washer & dryer and like-new refrigerators. In the next several weeks Abbe and Anderson will convert a spare room into an aging facility. If all goes according to plan, they will begin to wash and turn wheels of tomme there as it ages for market later this fall.

At 5 pm we had one last appointment at Goat Creek Farm. As we pulled up the gravel driveway we could literally see and smell the final chore awaiting us: fresh hay--cut, dried, piled up in neat rows--waiting for us to scoop it up and bale it.

Jonathan loaded his 70's-era New Holland Baler onto the back of his Kubota and attached the hay wagon onto the back of the Baler. Then we climbed aboard the wagon and steadied ourselves, ready to pull fresh bales and stack them on the wagon. After a few hours of dusty, sweaty work in the heat, this is what I looked like:


For 7 years now I've made a living teaching Latin and English. In that time I've forgotten how good it feels to finish up a few hours of manual labor.

At last we said good-bye to all the animals and, of course, to Gwenn and family, and we called it a day.

...but this is not the end of Country Mouse! We've been convinced to stay a little longer and check out the Portage County Fair. Both Gwenn and Abbe work with the local 4-H club, and their kids will be showing goats. So we have a small promise to keep next Tuesday out at the fair grounds. I've been told that our county's fair is one of the "last authentic fairs" around, so I'll be sure to post. Until then--

How to Drive a Tractor

Usually we head over to Goat Creek Farm to milk and help out with other chores in the morning. But last Friday, when Gwenn advertised a free tractor lesson at 5 pm on Monday, we gladly accepted.

Before I go forward with the exciting details of Tractor 101, I should mention that we've taken Rheinhart over to Gwenn's twice now to see the animals. He loves it there. Last Friday, we took him for a ride on top of a sawdust pile in the wheelbarrow, and on top of a bale of hay. But his favorite activity at the farm is hanging out with the goats and sheep. Here he is with one of the kids:

...Okay, so back to tractors...First, full disclosure: I know almost nothing about cars beyond the owner's manual in the glove compartment of my faithful-but-wimpy '03 Saturn Ion. However, when Gwenn's husband Jonathan gave us a brief tour of his Kubota L4400 Series Basic Farmer's Tractor, I felt overwhelmed by the desire to turn grease monkey and geek out with all of its gears and levers. Terms like "hydrostatic transmission," "hydraulic PTO pitch," and "wet disc brakes" were some kind of strange, magical poetry --a new vocabulary I suddenly want to master and rotate into my next conversation with the mechanic at Jiffy Lube...

Anyway, when we arrived at 5, we met up with Gwenn on top of the hill where their home and barns are situated and spotted Jonathan down beyond the paddocks, ploughing through a thick green field of canary grass. You can just make him out in the background of the picture below:

She told us to head on down, so we hiked the gravel driveway to meet him, both excited and nervous to give hay-cutting a shot. As soon as Jonathan saw us, he hopped off the Kubota, gave us the verbal tour, then gave us each a turn on the tractor. We both did a lap, slicing through a tiny fraction of all of the grass Jonathan and his neighbors will turn into bales of hay by the end of the week. Here's Shelly about to give it a go:

The weather was perfect for cutting hay: not too hot, clear skies, low humidity. As we ploughed across the field, a dozen or so tree swallows swooped all around us, eating up all of the bugs displaced from the chopped grass. On the distant blue horizon I could just barely make out the white orb of Kent's water tower...

There's an intriguing chapter in Goat Song, by Brad Kessler, in which he explains the importance of good hay. The following passage is but one sample from that chapter that rings a little truer now that I've "gone haying":

The cut hay lay in fluffed windrows around an eight-acre field, narrow runners of emerald green. I walked to the nearest row and grabbed a handful. The grass was dry enough. Sweet smelling. Oregano-ish. A bit bleached of color, but considering all the recent rains, not bad...

* * *

Today Shelly's at the creamery helping out with farmers market prep. Only one more day at the creamery and one more visit to Gwenn's and our summer of cheesemaking and farming will be over...

Definite Foam and Goat Creek Farm

The end of our stay here in Ohio is rapidly approaching, and soon we'll return to the city. And time certainly seems to fly by during weeks like this one, each day filled with something different and...shall we say...educational? Here's a day-by-day:

MONDAY:

We were scheduled to work out at Lucky Penny Farm, but an early morning text from Abbe told us otherwise: the creamery was in critical need of some emergency clean-up. Two posts ago I wrote of a strange bluish tinge that had mysteriously colored a batch of chevre. Turns out that the cause was a bacteria that snuck into the creamery in a milk delivery from a local supplier. So, to avert any chance that the bacteria would invade further, Abbe called her colleague, Greg, a dairy consultant and specialist in sanitation and sterilization.

Greg arrived in the early afternoon and unloaded a few supplies from his truck as we prepared inside by removing all electronics and anything else sensitive to moisture from the make room, raw milk room, brining & packing room, and the main hallway. Anderson joined us, we readied our brushes, Greg fired up his state-of-the-art compressors, and around 2 pm, the fun began...

In each room, Greg sprayed a type of anti-bacterial foam solution called "Definite." As soon as he had covered enough area, we emerged--

--and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. After we scoured each room from top to bottom, Anderson came through with a hose and rinsed and squeegeed the floor. We also scrubbed and sanitized the large milk cans used to transport small-source milk. There's something about the shape and shine of 'em that I just love:

See what I mean? Finally, after each room had been foamed, scrubbed, and rinsed, Greg came back through a second time and sprayed once more with a second solution meant to absorb and evaporate overnight.

So that's the harsh reality of sanitation in the cheesemaking business. If things start to go sour (literally), you have to take serious action immediately. Fun. Greg, by the way, was a very jovial guy, and also very knowledgeable about all things dairy-related. He was more than happy to answer my exhaustive list of questions.

Some time during all of the clean up, I called Gwen to set up a few more appointments for milking practice. She answered and told me immediately that she was in Michigan for a family emergency, and asked if Shelly and I would milk and take care of her animals the following morning. Were we ready? Did we really know what to do on the milking bench?

Time to find out!

TUESDAY:

We dropped Hart off at my sister-in-law Karynn's at 9 am and drove out to Gwen's farm in the opposite corner of town. To this point on the blog, I've simply called it "Gwen's farm," but the official name is Goat Creek Farm. Here's the list of chores that awaited us:

1. Feed the pigs their mixture of hog feed, oats and cracked corn.

2. Give Kenya, the Great Pyrenees herding dog, her bowl of kibble.

3. Milk the does in their self-determined order: Ginny (the queen of the herd), Jedda (her sister), Rose, Daisy. Shelly milked the first two nannies flawlessly; I did the second two pretty competently. The proof is in the milk (alas, not the pudding): we came home with two containers-full of clean milk--probably just under two gallons.

It's worth mentioning that while we milk the goats, a brilliant banana spider (a.k.a. garden spider) perches in the center of its web above the stanchion. Take a look:

For scale, compare its body to the 2x4's up above. Although it certainly freaks Shelly out, the goats don't seem to mind. The spider keeps the hundreds of flies that swarm around the shed away from their heads while they chomp on sweetfeed during milkings. Arachnids, I've realized, are important to a farm's ecosystem.

4. Muck the shed floor and surrounding area. Basically, this means that you have to scrape the poop, old hay, old sawdust, etc. off the floor and shovel it into a wheelbarrow. Gwen recycles it in her garden.

5. Put new sawdust down--especially on a hot and humid day like this one.

6. Check and fill water buckets.

7. Make sure the milking area is clean.

8. Give the animals a little extra attention. My favorite critter at Goat Creek is a doe named Gigi. She loves to chomp on noodles and, like most goats, she loves to have her chin scratched:

All in all, I'd say our first solo milking was a success. Gwen, thanks for trusting us and empowering us to take care of your amazing animals.

* * *

Later, after Hart's midday nap, we rewarded ourselves with a dip in my uncle's pool. It was a nice afternoon, and a good day overall.

WEDNESDAY:

A break from farming and cheesemaking mid-week to visit family. Shelly's mom lives about a one-and-a-half hour's drive northeast, in Madison, Ohio. After visiting with her, we stopped in Mentor to visit Shelly's aunt Dana, uncle George, and cousin Alissa. To pass the time while driving, we've been listening to The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, by Stieg Larsson. We just finished yesterday, and I highly recommend it if you're looking for an entertaining escape.

Speaking of finishing books, I also wrapped up Brad Kessler's Goat Song yesterday. Kessler's prose is fantastic, and the scope of the book is wide-ranging enough to appeal to anyone with a general interest in Western culture--not just those of us interning with goats. I haven't forgotten about my intention to post a little more about the Georgics, but I'm thinking that all of my literary musings might have to wait until I return to New York, when we're past the thick of all this summer farm fun...

THURSDAY (TODAY):

Today's education happens in the kitchen. While I type this (and while Hart naps), I can hear the whirr of the mixer in the background: Shelly's making fresh butter from the milk we brought home on Tuesday. Here she is, checking over the recipe from Culture while (wo)manning the KitchenAid:

Today's one of those schizophrenic weather days: rain, sun, clouds, sun, rain... so the perfect day for tinkering around in the kitchen. If there's enough milk (and time), we'll try out Kessler's cajeta recipe too. I may post again tomorrow with the details if it all turns out.

Three words: Akron. Beer. Festival. That's right. On Saturday, the same day that Lebron James was riding amidst the 1,000 bikes he gave to children in need at an annual charity event across town, we were volunteering at the Akron Blues & Brews Festival at beautiful Stan Hywet Hall & Gardens. The setting was stunning:

Stan Hywet is a national historic landmark which was originally a turn-of-the-century estate home to J.A. Seiberling, the founder of the Goodyear Tire Company. The estate itself is gorgeous, as you can see, and the gardens are spectacular. But I wonder if Seiberling would appreciate a mob of fat dudes jockeying for their next microbrew or spot in line to the port-o-john on the grass near his beloved apple orchards?

In all seriousness, the event was a lot of fun--even for those of us from Lucky Penny, who were there to talk the beer guzzlers through several beer-and-cheese pairings. We were promoting Lucky Penny's fresh chevre and feta coupled with Thirsty Dog Brewery's Hefeweizen, but we were also offering another local cheese with the wheat beer: Provouda, a provolone-gouda hybrid style cheese made from goat's milk at Capella Cheese Company in Stark County, Ohio. We were also offering up another pairing with two cows' milk cheeses made at a dairy in Western Ohio: Thirsty Dog's Twisted Kilt Lager with a Swiss-Style Cheese and an original recipe cheese called Lock 21, both handmade at Canal Junction Farmstead Cheeses in Defiance. Twisted Kilt is a "Scottish Export Style" lager, and its peetey, smoky taste really brought out the mushroomy earthiness of Lock 21, which is basically a 3-4 month-aged brie.

While I'm sure this all sounds great to you at the moment, it seemed that most customers, three or four pints deep, just saw chunks of yellow and white cheese and gobbled them up thanklessly en route to their next pour. But whatever. We toasted with Abbe and Lauren (respectively in the photo below) to what we hoped was a successful promotional event for the creamery.

Today we went to breakfast in Peninsula, Ohio, which is a small town nestled in the heart of Cuyahoga Valley National Park. Since Bill Clinton upped the Valley's status from a National Recreation Area to a National Park in the late 90's, the government has been slowly buying out privately owned land within its boundaries. But down the road in Boston, Ohio, Szalay's farm benefits from a clause which protects the private interests of working farms within the park. And that's a good thing, because Szalay's, I've learned, is a Northeast Ohio institution.

As you turn off one of the main north-south arteries through the Park onto the farm's road, you see barns and tractors and fields of corn in one direction, like in the backdrop here...

...and on the other side of the road is Szalay's Market:

August is prime time to shop there, especially if you like sweet corn. While you're inside perusing the fresh fruits, vegetables, and unbelievably plump tomatoes--

--a tractor pulls up just outside the entryway and farmhands rush the edges of the flatbed in tow to unload fresh ears of the sweetest corn you've ever tasted:

Seriously. We had some of the corn with dinner tonight, and the kernels taste like they're packed with sugar. Now I can't wait for leftovers tomorrow, or for more of August's bounty on sale at the farmer's market next Saturday...

Blue Chevre, A Phone Call, and 2 Updates

In my last post I had nothing to speak of as far as farming and cheesemaking goes. Now, only two days later, I have so much to write about that I don't know where to begin. Bear with me...

Shelly's foot has mostly healed and she's back to her work routine at the creamery. On Tuesday she spent a few hours salting and packing chevre. Nothing new there. But she went back to help make cheese this morning, and just a few hours ago I took Rheinhart and we met her for lunch. While eating our sandwiches on a bench overlooking the Cuyahoga River, Shelly told me of a mystery that has descended upon the creamery. A recent batch of chevre appears to have a slight bluish tinge. It smells fine. It looks fine otherwise (texture, etc.). Yes, it tastes fine. But still: a little blue. Should it go to market or not?

Me? I know very little about the science of cheese at this point. But it's August, the creamery is pumping out batches of fresh goat cheese as fast as it can to meet demand, Abbe and Anderson are pulled in a million different directions with farming and sales and community outreach, etc., etc., Shelly is doing her best to help out.....But what can I do?

I'll tell you what I can do: I can pick up my phone and call one of the tens of established goat cheese makers I've read so much about in Liz Thorpe's Cheese Chronicles. Yes, it's true: just a few minutes ago I got off the phone with Judith Schad, the master cheesemaker at Capriole Farmstead Goat Cheeses. I read about her fresh and aged goat cheeses just a few days ago, all of which she and her team make by hand at their farm in Greenville, Indiana.

Judith herself answered the phone when I called, I told her what was going on, and she gave me an answer. Said it probably has to do with the composition of the milk: if any of it was frozen (which, I think, it was), it might have lost a little of its protein and/or butterfat content, and that might have some moderate effect on the color. I don't know what that means about the edibility of the cheese, but there you have it. A generous, no-questions asked answer from a "cheese celebrity" I read about in The Cheese Chronicles. Thanks, Judith; thanks, Liz Thorpe.

Speaking of Thorpe, I actually finished the Chronicles yesterday. The book opened my eyes to the burgeoning cheesemaking culture in this country, and at some point I'd like to post a list of the 10 most appetizing American artisanal cheeses--each one described in great detail by Thorpe--then search for them at greenmarkets or shops in the city and follow-up with tasting notes. Does that sound horribly boring? Or perhaps you'd like to taste them with me?

Anyway, I also finished reading the Georgics, and when I get the chance, I should share a few final thoughts about the end of Book III and Book IV at the risk of boring you further. Until then, I have two updates to I'd like to share right now...

Milking Update!

We went back to Gwen's farm yesterday morning and gave it our fourth try. Dare I say that we're starting to establish a rhythm? Here's Shelly in mid-milk:

One of the most exciting things about visiting Gwen's is that her new barn is nearly finished. In fact, it may be done as I write this. Here's what it looked like yesterday:

The new barn will be used for storing equipment, which means that the current equipment barn will be used for milking and sheltering the herd, and the current milking shed will become the new chicken coop. This all means more room for the animals to roam, as Gwen and her husband are all set up to open the new animal barn onto a greater expanse of pasture. Gwen's already making tasty milk and cheese, but all this will mean even better milk, and, of course, even better cheese!

Sick Goat Update : (

A few posts ago, I wrote about a sick goat at Lucky Penny. I believe I was the first to spot the poor kid, and shortly thereafter Abbe isolated her and they eventually gave her medicine. But despite their best efforts, it turns out that she died of a type of goat influenza, which in weaker members of a herd can become a deadly form of pneumonia. To make a long story short, Abbe and Anderson lost six goats last weekend.

From what Shelly tells me, the passing of the goats has been really hard on Abbe, Anderson and their three young children. I know that Abbe believes in the power of thinking good thoughts, so please: send some their way.

By Popular Demand: Rheinhart!

It's been nearly a week since my last post. There's not much to report in the way of cheesemaking, goat farming, etc. because we've been out of town since last Thursday. We spent a great weekend in Philadelphia at the wedding extravaganza of our good friends, Anna and James. In sum, the food was fantastic, the weather was great, and we felt footloose (pun intended: Shelly's foot felt healthy enough at the reception that she could even dance a little bit!) and fancy free--especially because Rheinhart stayed behind here in Ohio under the care of the grandparents.

And since there's nothing agricultural to share...and since so many of you have requested that I post some pictures of Hart, here they are. Mr. Mom's Six Summer Highlights with Hart:

Highlight #1: Too Too Tains

Hart's favorite parts of our visit to the Akron Zoo had nothing to do with animals, although he was into them at first. He had the most fun riding on the small train ("too too tain") pictured above and romping around at the playground ("paygound"). For Rheinhart, this has been the summer of the choo choo train. He's OBSESSED with them.

There's a lot of train traffic in and around Kent, and any time he hears the blast of a train's horn, his face washes over with a really serious expression and he says: "Hear too too tain!" We've indulged him by stopping to watch trains pass under a bridge near my parents' house (where I'm sure we looked like the village idiots to passersby), and we've played and played and played with toy trains. Ezra, Abbe's six-year old son, has outgrown his collection of Thomas the Tank Engine toys, so he sold many of them to us for a small price (he's saving up and moving on to Legos). In addition, I've built and rebuilt a Lincoln Log train set for Hart at least a dozen times. Here he is sharing a mix of all his train stuff with his cousins Logan (left) and Carson (right):

Highlight #2: Swimming

We've gone swimming a few times every week. As previously mentioned on this blog, we graduated from parent-toddler swim class at the RHS pool a few weeks back. Did I mention that we were the only parent and toddler in the class? ...It was interesting (read: mostly awkward), to say the least, but as a result, Rheinhart has a greater sense of confidence around the water.

Our favorite spots are Headlands Beach on Lake Erie, the beach at West Branch State Park (above), and my uncle's pool (We call him Uncle Eddie; Hart calls him "Uncle Buddy"). Here he is at Uncle Buddy's just before taking a dip:

Highlight #3: At the Paygound!

We do a lot of playgrounding in the city, and we've done a lot of it here too. It seems that everywhere we drive there's a new playground on the horizon. We often hear "paygound!" from the back seat before we even see it ourselves, and then we have to spend the next five minutes distracting the little guy (or else...). At the moment, the favorite place to play is behind Davey School (where I went to junior high!). Below, Rheinhart is trying out another kid's bike at the American Playground in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. The picture was taken back over Memorial Day weekend.

Highlight #4: Hiking

Thanks to my friend Bess, we've acquired a great backpack perfect for kinder transport during hiking. We've used the pack several times, but the two most memorable hikes were on the 4th of July weekend at Ritchie Ledges in Cuyahoga Valley National Park with our DC friends, Kirk, Amylia and Baby Lane--

--and a hot Saturday afternoon escape to the shade of Towner's Woods, just outside of Kent--

--where we hiked along the beautiful shores of Lake Pippen.

Highlight #5: Lake Farm Park

In Mid-July we made a weekend visit to Lake Farm Park in Kirtland, Ohio. The park is part of the Lake County Metro Parks system and is home to sheep, goats, cows, horses, llamas, and--Rheinhart's personal favorite--farm equipment:

It just so happens that the weekend we were there was part of ice cream week, which meant a free "ice keem" sundae for all visitors. Rheinhart loved it:

Highlight #6: Appas and Ampas

One of the best fringe benefits of the whole farm experience has been all of the time Hart's had to get to know all of his grandparents, whom he calls "Appa Pan" (Grandma Pam), "Ampa Daybip" (Grandpa David), "Ampa Rick" (self-explanatory), "Appa Doan" (Grandma Joan), and "Oma" (Oma Carmen--he can handle that one). Here he is reading with Ampa Daybip:

...and here he is at the Farm Park, all excited to find another paygound with Appa Doan:

I could keep going with the highlights, but I think you get the point: it's been a fun summer for Rheinhart too. I should take a minute to say thanks to all of the grandparents, and to my sisters-in-law, Jen and Samantha, who have helped to take care of Hart while we do our farm and cheese thing. Hart says "sank yooo" too.

Tough as Nails (or at least one nail)

Yesterday morning after breakfast we made the beautiful drive out to Lucky Penny in Garrettsville. Deep blue Skies. Marshmallowy white clouds. Rolling green hills dotted with red barns and hay silos, paddock fences and dense patches of forest. Some of Ohio's most breathtaking farmland was letting us know: this was going to be a great day...

We pulled into the farm and started into a few basic chores, which included delivering a few bags of feed to each barn. In the ground floor of the hay barn, where a few goat pens are housed, I noticed that a little white goat kid was acting funny: head in the corner, not chewing her cud, not running up to greet me like the rest of her pen companions. Abbe, who followed me into the barn a few minutes later, saw what I saw and took action. She carried the little one outside to give her some fresh grass, fresh water, and a little grain. Here she is eating with the chickens:


How sad. How pathetic. Anderson went to retrieve medicine, and we would have to wait and see about her condition.

Okay, so maybe it's not going to be a great day, but still...could be pretty good...

Around 11:30, Abbe tells us to hop in the car and drive a few hundred yards down the road to her neighbor Dave's farm. Abbe and Anderson have been renting milking space from Dave, who has a heard of dairy cows; now they want to disassemble all of their milking equipment and tear down a barn's worth of goat pens so that they can relocate to their own side of the street, rebuild their own milking area, and save some money. Fair enough--we're glad to help out...

The first tear-down task is to remove some fencing from a milking area that's been sitting empty for a few months. Would be a fairly simple, straightforward chore, except for one thing: spiders. I don't exactly love 'em, and Shelly hates 'em. I mean HATES them. And I'm not talking about little harmless daddy longlegs. I'm talking about big, hairy, nasty arachnids. The kind that bite and leave an open sore dripping with ooze. The kind that make me put on work gloves and won't let me pause long enough to pull out my phone and snap a quick pic for this blog.

By 12:30, we were finished with that nightmare of a little chore. Okay, so maybe not a good day, but still...a solid day...a rewarding day...gettin' things done...

Around 1:00, we joined Abbe, Anderson, and another part-time farmhand named Megan to help with some serious barn tear-down. We hoisted our crow bars and sledge hammers and began pounding away, removing wooden planks from goat pens and stacking them up for nail-removal. It may sound like a drag, but truthfully, it was a lot of fun. If we've learned anything from our two year old son, it's that destruction, too, can be a form of creation. It feels good to see the results of your toil immediately--in this case, a pile of planks stacked up at one end of the barn and nothing but the framework of the pens behind us. Here's Shelly reveling in her work:

But not long after this photo was taken, a tragic turn of events. From across the barn, I hear the following:

"Uh oh. I stepped on a nail."

Mind, this is broadcast in a normal volume, in a monotone voice. Next thing I know, I'm helping Shelly hop out of the barn. Abbe's got a paper towel applied to the bottom of her foot to staunch the bleeding. Anderson's speeding back to the farmhouse to retrieve a towel. I throw all of our crap--boots, crow bars, bloodied socks--in the trunk. Then I undo the car seat and toss it in the trunk to make room for Shelly,

who, as you can see, is as cool as a cucumber the entire time ("I can't even feel it, really").

With her foot wrapped and my head on straight, we drove for 15 minutes to the ER at Robinson Memorial Hospital in Ravenna. I guess a nail in the foot is not a big deal, because we waited for nearly two hours to receive treatment. At last, an inspection by a doctor, some x-rays, and the diagnosis: a clean puncture wound, no bone damage, 10 days of antibiotics, and some pain killers if needed.

The hardest part of the whole ordeal for Shelly was the shot of novocaine the nurse administered directly into the bottom of her foot before scraping and cleaning the wound. She said that the pain of the shot was worse than the actual nail.

And finally, for those of you who love blood and gore, here it is:

You can just make out the point of penetration about an inch below the space between the middle toe and the second biggest toe. Ouch.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't a good day at all...but these things happen, right? Perhaps what Ohio's breathtaking farmland was telling us was just a big load of crap?

Hopefully, Shelly will be mobile enough by Friday to enjoy the wedding we're headed to in Philadelphia. If she's proven anything, it's that she's tough as nails. She should know.