The Kids are Here!

On our way to Dallas last week for the first ever meeting of Texas cheesemakers, we stopped in Ft. Worth to meet the lovely Deborah Rogers and her expanding herd of goats. When I called Deborah the week prior, she had a lot of pregnant mamas, but no kids. When we arrived, the first 7 or so had come onto the scene, the latest only 45 minutes before we arrived.

"I make cheese so I can have more goats," says Deborah. A mostly self-taught cheesemaker and farmer, Deborah operates her farm in a manner that is unconventional and decidedly pro-goat.

On land that was once her grandparents', Deborah feeds the herd on grass and boughs, making her one of a few completely pasture-based American goat dairies.

She's especially generous with the babies, allowing them plenty of milk, even at the expense of her cheese operation.

"Babies are the future of this farm," she explains. And mama's milk is key to their health: "If goats are unhealthy when they're little, they are never quite right. I suppose it's like people."

Deborah's indulgent with her goats in other ways. She keeps ten bucks, instead of the typical one or two. She likes them, for one, and wants to give the herd more genetic diversity. The bucks even get to keep their horns and hang out with the girls most of the time - she gives no credence to the belief that they can make the milk taste goat-y.

And what about her cheese? We're waiting excitedly for our first tastes, as soon as there's enough milk to spare!

You know you're a cheesemaker when . . .

you travel with your own gallon of milk.

Connie and Stuart Veldhuizen did just that when they came to town this week for their debut at the Houston Rodeo. Monday was the Best Bites event, a wine and food tasting attended by Houston's finest chefs and nearly 4000 guests. The Veldhuizens were invited to bring their wonderful farmstead cheese and were kind enough to let us tag along.

Planning to be beseiged by the crowd, we prepared a bunch of samples ahead of time. In the end though, the hit was Stuart, who enthralled the crowd with tidbits of information about the farm while carving out samples from a half wheel of carraway cheddar.

The reward for us came the next day, when they gave us some of the richest, yellowest butter I've ever tasted and raw cream so thick it should be illegal - oh yeah, it is!

A Lesson on Swiss Fondue

Having recently returned from her native Switzerland, my friend Anne invited our friend Stephen and me over the other night for a traditional Swiss Fondue. The weather, cold and miserable, set the perfect scene for gathering around a warm pot of melted cheese.

"There are as many recipes for fondue as there are people!" Anne told us. Hers is a family recipe for Fondue Moitie-Moitie (or "Half-Half"). The "half-half" refers to the cheese mix, which is half Vacherin Fribourgeois and half Gruyere. This mix, Anne explained, is not only classic in the region of Fribourg from which she comes, but it lends the dish its perfectly smooth texture and flavor.

She was kind enough to share the recipe below along with some key pointers. It is written for one serving, but, with the exception of the cornstarch, should be scaled up as necessary. It's no fun to eat fondue alone!

Ingredients:
1/4 pound per person Vacherin Fribourgeois, coarsely grated
1/4 pound per person Gruyere, finely grated
1/4 cup per person dry white wine, Swiss if you can find it
1 scant tsp cornstarch (optional)(scale up conservatively, ie. use 2 tsps for 4 people)
1 whole clove garlic, cut in half

Technique:

1. Rub a caquelon*, or heavy pot, with halved garlic and discard clove. (For a stronger garlic taste leave clove in pot.) Turn heat on to medium.

*A caquelon is an enameled cast iron pot with a stubby handle that is especially suited to fondue. If you don't have your own caquelon, use a pot heavy enough to distribute the heat evenly.

2. Mix cornstarch and wine and add to pot.

3. Add grated Gruyere and slowly mix in. When nearly melted, add Vacherin in small amounts, stirring constantly.








4. Continue stirring over medium heat for three to five minutes until thickened and smooth.










5. Take pot to table and place over a low heat source. Serve with large bites of crusty white bread (day-old works best) and freshly ground black pepper. (To answer Kendra's earlier question, the Kirsch may be added directly to the pot, or kept aside in a glass and dipped into on the way to the fondue pot.)




6. The rest is pretty self-explanatory: with a long fork, dip into the pot and stir vigorously until your bread is soaked with cheese. (Careful not to lose your piece in the pot, as by tradition you're then required to buy the next round.) Twist any lingering strings of cheese around the fork as if twirling pasta.

Enjoy with good friends and plenty of dry white wine!

Will work for cheese

Patricia and Eric Lefebvre, Fromagerie de Paris

My last 10 days in France were to be spent in Paris visiting cheese shops and, with any luck, working in one for several days. Although an unconventional approach to continuing education, I thought it would be worth a try. I'll save you the depressing details of rejection. The conclusion: no work for Kendra. The responses varied from the very abrupt, "No one enters my cave! And no photos!" to the more gentle, "I'm sorry, but I have too many appointments already." Dommage. For those shops not allowing any photos, I took the liberty of lingering a while so as to create a memory. I'll refrain from bitterly naming the shops offering the more coarse rejections (although I will say they are among the more famous.) On a brighter note, however, there was one gem that made the entire Parisian sejour worthwhile. La Fromagerie de Paris on rue Charenton is run by the oh-so-friendly and welcoming Patricia and Eric Lefebvre. Upon my first visit (they at least considered letting me work there) they regretted not having an aging cave to show me, but directed me to the fromagerie of Alain and Marie Quatrehomme. It was here that I received the gentler of rejections, although you can't say I didn't try my hardest. While I did not get to see an aging cave or get to work in a shop, I still learned a few things to pass on:

1. Paris changes fast. The majority of recommended and published cheese shops ahd already shut down or moved. I highly recommend a long distance phone call before your trip, if you plan to visit them. This will save you many euros in metro tickets to get all over the city.

2. The verdict on Brie: According to Patricia Lefebvre, and I trust her authority on the matter, Brie is eaten at peak ripeness, creamy and soft, in Paris. Everywhere else in France, it is eaten before this creamy state, firm and, in my opinion, lacking that 'umph' in flavor. This would explain the firm Brie I had in Belfort.

3. Just as Paris's local business climate changes with the tide, so do the EU laws on food. All the "I don't know"s from previous blogs rest as so, since it is so difficult to keep up with them as they change. Why can't our American cheese laws change?! Bring in the fresh raw-milk cheese please!

All in all, the trip afforded me many surprises--disappointing and equally exhilarating. If you plan to take a trip to Frane in the future, feel free to contact me for suggestions on restaurants, sites, cities, and other things. And if you ever need an interpreter to accompany you of a French food extravaganza, my bags are packed!

Cheers!

A Visit from the Veldhuizens

Yesterday was a great day at the market because we were joined by Stuart and Connie Veldhuizen, the cheesemakers who make all of those fine raw milk cheeses in Dublin, TX.

Having just stepped off a cruise ship in Galveston, they looked tan and happy, and repeatedly mentioned that they still felt the waves rocking the ground beneath their feet.

Since they arrived in the middle of a rush, all I could do was hand Stuart a hunk of Paragon and a knife. He immediately jumped into cheesemaker-mode, offering samples to the crowd along with all sorts of interesting information about cows, raw milk cheesemaking, and the importance of good grass. A number of Veldhuizen loyalists were there to show their appreciation, and first-timers stood in thrall. I wish we had pictures of the action, but we were frankly too busy to take them.

As they were leaving I told them that I hoped they felt loved, and Stuart explained how when they were just producing milk for the co-op they would only get feedback if there was something wrong. As cheesemakers, they get to hear how much their hard work is appreciated.

Thanks to all of you who came out to let them know that it is!

And thanks also to a world-class stand-in Dairymaid, Doris Scott (aka Kendra's Mom).