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.