New new NEW

It's time for a change. Since that's the way my life has been going for the last several months (ie quiting my job to move to a goat dairy for two months, traveling in Europe with no money, returning to live in a tent with no solid plans in sight) I figured the whole blogging thing should follow suit. So, former Curd Nerd Adventures/present Cheese Press - I'm done with you! The axe has fallen. I cast you into the wind. Adieu...

Worried? I'm shocked if you are, but in such case, don't be - I am starting a new blog! It won't see much activity for awhile since I am about an hour away from jumping on a plane sans computer, and won't be returning for about a month. But if you like, here's the link. Take a gander and ogle the new and improved layout (Multiple pages? Cheesey banner? Oh yes!)

Thanks to anyone who ever looked at this, and thanks to blogspot for helping me get my feet wet in the blogosphere. Petite Tome here I come!

Begin, Again

They say that imitation is the highest form of flattery. But what if it's unintentional?

So apparently there is another more seasoned, (much) more recognized Curd Nerd out there. Shows how much I pay attention to the vast world of blogs, even of the cheese kind. In light of this recent discovery, I am changing the name of my blog to Cheese Press: Adventures in Cheese. I considered this name when I started my blog a year and a half ago, and while I felt Curd Nerd fit me better, it'll do for now, though it could change again if another Cheese Press pops up. (Please tell me if you know of one?)

So to the Curd Nerd, my apologies. Keep doing your thing, and thanks for letting me borrow your name for awhile. We had a good run.

A series of photos intended to make you jealous of me

 Pyrrate - wild, mystical forest-dweller

 Super pregers!

 Sophie

 Door to cheese

 Hillis Peak pre brushing and oiling...

 ...and after

 This is what happens when you drink and carriage ride

 The barn, with Hillis Peak in the distance

 The Island of Misfits

 Aging room

 Sweet, sweet Grenache

 Vivian with a crown of straw

lil' Bridgette

 "Wild" bunny

 Stinky bucks. Well the black and white one on the left is actually a doe who decided to be a boy. They call her/him It's Pat! (from SNL). This is Oregon, so more power to you Pat!

 Evil, evil hens

Piper (aka my Cougar bait) and I went to the top of Turkey Hill

Gianaclis's Goat Whey Ricotta

What would you do with all that whey? Whey is the liquid that remains after the coagulation of milk in the  cheesemaking process. It is mostly water, but is also rich in protein and lactose.

After making the first cheese batch of the season (those are Elk Mtn. curds at the bottom of the vat) we were swimming in whey, and since Pholia is a farm that wastes as little as possible, pouring it down the floor drain wasn't an option. And why would we? Whey has many uses: It makes tasty pork when fed to hogs, it can be used as a land application for plants, and it can be turned into ricotta, to name a few. There are currently no hogs on the farm (besides yours truly), and apparently only specific plants will benefit from whey. Ricotta won.

As the whey heats, the remaining milk solids start to surface. Chunky.

Ricotta, meaning to cook again in Italian, is a fresh cheese that traditionally is just reheated whey, though commercially is often made with whole milk and set with an acid (lemon, vinegar) to produce a higher yield product. Home cheesemakers use the milk/acid method, but the folks who's livelihood is being a Milk Magician get the real thing.

Making this type of cheese is almost too easy. We threw the pot on the stove, cranked the heat up to high, and carried on with other activities, of which there always many on a farm. Once the solids have risen to the top, turn the heat off, stir, and...

Scoop

Rest

Drain

Voila!

After it cooled, we tubed it and popped it in the fridge. Contrary to the rule, fresh cheese is probably the only style of cheese that is better when not served room temperature. Later that night we sprinkled the ricotta with nutmeg and cardamom, topped it with a sliver of honeycomb and some biscotti for scooping. The cheese was rich and delicate, best suited for a dessert. Turning it into a savory dish would have only masked the subtlety of this recooked cheese. Goat ricotta - who knew?

It's Fun Being New!

Baby Nigerian Dwarf goats romp in their pen.

Knee deep in goat placenta and elbow deep in curds

My life is about to change. This scares me.

Borrowed from Pholia Farm's Facebook page - hope they don't mind...

For the next eight weeks, given if I have the time to write, this blog will be taking a new direction. I will no longer be mongering and munching my days away in San Francisco. Rather I get to be on the other side of the cheese spectrum. I'm leaving the retail and consuming side to become a producer. At least for now.

Pholia Farms, on the beautiful Rogue River in southern Oregon, was nice enough to take a chance on a city girl like me to come help them with their cheesemaking and kidding. Baby goats are called kids, so Springtime (when they are born) is the kidding season. I'm not kidding. But I will be soon! (ha, sorry)

Pholia farm-boss Gianaclis Caldwell is a bit of a cheese maverick: She makes an outstanding product, writes books on cheese, teaches classes, and runs a completely off the grid operation. Her prize winning herd consists of Nigerian Dwarf goats, which means they stay pretty small their whole lives, which translates to me having a cute-attack.

BABIES! Again, borrowed from Facebook

Interestingly, these tiny animal's milk has the highest butterfat content of any other breed of goat used for cheesemaking. I haven't visited the farm yet, but I have had their cheese. Unlike most goat cheeses - clean, lean, bright, refreshing - the aged, raw milk tommes are rich and buttery; more akin to sheep's milk than goat's. Plus the wheels that have come in recently are pretty breathtaking.

The rind on this wheel of Hillis Peak reminds me of a Chinese print of fish scales, or maybe a woman's stocking. The dusty blues, grays and greens just barely reveal a burnt red under-hue (courtesy of a paprika and oil rub on the cheese when it's young). The rind visually intrigues, and the paste, tasting distinctly of pistachios, does not disappoint.

Holy crap - I get to make this stuff! Stay tunned...

Would You Like Some Fat With Your Fat?

Let's pretend we're French.

It's an unusually warm March Sunday that we've spent leisurely brunching with friends, perusing the farmer's market, basking in the early Spring. Now the sun's begun to set and with the cold breeze rushing in the open windows we're reminded it's still Winter, and a hearty supper is in order. We uncork a bottle of wine and get to chopping. Tonight's menu: Tartiflette

Tartiflette comes from Haute Savoie. Only three words need be said about this dish: Potatoes, cheese, bacon. I guess that it's also worth mentioning that it's really, really good. And decadent. And easy to make. The dish calls for Reblochon cheese. Also from the Savoie, Reblochon is the kind of cheese that I can't get enough of: It's stinky, meaty, barnyard-y, creamy and melt-able, and comes in a cute one to two pound round. What more could a girl want? I opted for a domestic cheese similar to Reblochon, as the real deal is illegal in the U.S. I knew Oma from the von Trapp Farmstead in Vermont (yep, the von Trapp's) to be quite similar. I also noticed it hadn't been around the cheese shop lately. With a little bit of research I found out their production is on hold due to necessary facility upgrades. That's one of the tricky things with American artisan cheese - unlike Europe, we aren't making one style of cheese in each region. It really varies from farm to farm and creamery to creamery what is being produced. So when it's gone, it's gone.

Still I was fixated on the idea of a small wheel. Using a wedge of melty cheese sliced or grated on top instead seemed like it would take away from the uniqueness of this dish, and I wasn't willing to settle. I racked my brain for all of five minutes when it suddenly came to me - Rush Creek Reserve! Winter dish, Winter cheese. Rush Creek is a cheese I've partook of in all its glory many times over, but usually only in its purest form. It was half-past time to cook with it.

The How To:
Thickly slice potatoes, coarsely chop an onion, cut bacon into lardons. Saute the onion and bacon in butter. Add potatoes when onions become translucent. Saute for 8mins then add a half cup of dry white wine, stir, and cover to steam for about 10mins.

While the potatoes cook, rub a baking dish (I used a pyrex) with butter and the cut end of a clove of garlic. Reserve garlic clove to make a dressing for the side salad. After 10mins remove from heat - salt and pepper to taste and add fresh thyme, then add creme fraiche (a cultured cream similar to sour cream that's thinner and less tart) to coat potatoes.

Pour the potato mixture into the dish then top with cheese.

Normally you would cut the small wheel in half horizontally, then lay both pieces onto the potatoes cut-side down. But when using a bark wrapped cheese this last step becomes a bit trickier.

Then...

 Anticipation...

Ta-da!

The rind crisped up nicely, like a potato chip, and the flavor was surprisingly mellow but still rich. The use of Rush Creek did result in a more oily dish, but we didn't mind. Slices of baguette soaked the cheesy, fatty liquid right up and added to the decadence. I wish the bacon had been a touch crisper, but I can't really complain, can I?

Two days later I used what little leftovers I had as a garnish for my breakfast. I reheated the tartiflette and drizzled it with white truffle oil, then scooped in on top of creme fraiche scrambled eggs and sauteed broccoli di ciccio. I know... I'm probably going to have a heart attack. Still, let's be French more often.