I think I know a lot about cheese, and then I try to make it. Directions for cheese making are simple: 4 ingredients are listed, and then it says something like “heat, stir, set, cut and you’re done!” The problem with these simple instructions is there are so many variables within these four ingredients. Milk is complicated. Technique and timing need to be precise. What salt you use matters (don’t even think about iodized!). Most of all you have to know what you are looking for at each stage; not just visually but by feel as well which is absolutely impossible to learn from YouTube, unlike tying a necktie, which is how my husband learned...when he was 32. He claimed it just hadn’t come up till then….. Home cheesemaking is, to be completely cliche, not about the destination, but the journey...a really expensive journey with absolutely no ROI (for me, so far anyway). But practice makes perfect, so I will keep trying, making sure to record every step of the way in my trusty cheesemaking notebook. I really do feel like I’m in 8th grade science class all over again... My first batch of the day was dismal. I took the milk out about an hour before starting to wash and sanitize my equipment, and by the time I was ready to add the citric acid it was temping at 65 F instead of what the directions call for, 55 F. As previously mentioned, directions for cheese making are easily understood and a lot of mozzarella recipes advertise that you can do them in 30 minutes. This is not the case as you have to wash, rinse and sanitize your equipment because you do not want rogue microbes messing with the cheesemaking process. This alone takes 30 minutes. On top of that, one has to dechlorinate water by boiling it for 20 minutes, or you can use distilled water. I drink tap water, so I have no bottled, distilled water on hand...so I’ll boil away and wait...90 F in the kitchen anyone? So once you’re done with that hour of prep, if you add lipase it needs to dissolve in water, taking another 20 minutes of one’s time...then heat the milk slowly (15 minutes), let it set (5 minutes at least), cut the curd and drain. Not to mention this isn’t even getting close to the stretching process, which includes heating more water, waiting for curds to soften and then stretching, adding more water and stretching some more. (see Bruno stretching mozz here) Add that pile of dishes that you have to clean up after every batch; that alone will take 2 hours on the backend. The process, dear reader, is not 30 minutes. | It’s super hot. It’s August in Chicagoland and on top of that I’m not sure who designed our apartment, but there is absolutely no airflow. It’s days like these that I feel like I’m stepping into a wall of steaming jungle as soon as I leave the haven of the air-conditioned bedroom. I've considered parking myself in the ample sized, concrete basement next to the washing machines. I've dreamt about sitting in a lawn chair armed with a cold Founder’s Centennial IPA and the latest edition of Culture magazine...in our basement. We tripped four breakers in three days with all the fans and wimpy room-size size air conditioners that are working at maximum capacity to keep things bearable. Yet here I am, making cheese and cooking pots of milk and water up anywhere from to 90-180 F. It’s my third try at mozzarella and co-workers are bugging me about why they haven’t tasted it yet. Plus, it’s a co-workers birthday tomorrow, so here it goes...cheese making in August. Nothing says “Happy Birthday” like homemade mozzarella!...at least in my world anyway. More than a spectacular birthday surprise, this stab at cheese making is my attempt to fill the free time that used to be consumed by hours of studying kappa casein, lactation cycles and effects of seasonality on milk composition. I studied and took the Certified Cheese Professional exam in late July (results pending), and I now need some new projects to work on. Jeff got me a cheese making kit for my birthday (see...birthdays totally revolve around cheese!) complete with everything to make mozzarella, feta, cheddar, gouda and even parmesan. What a thoughtful guy… |
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Sometimes, cheese-mongers forget about certain cheeses in the flock. It happens. Worrying about the money making triple cremes can be all consuming. I pulled some forgotten, or as I like to call them, "store aged" cheeses from the cooler today. You know, the esoteric varieties that don't quite fit anywhere in the case so they just wait patiently for you to remember they exist. The two I found today were Tommette des Alpes and Fleur de Maquis. I lost track of them, and then when I found them, I was worried if they had already turned; however, I saved them in the nick of time. The Tommette des Alpes (a thermalized cow/goat milk blend) has a rugged, natural rind that mottled with yellow and white as it aged. The flavors were reminiscent of Tomme de Savoie--notes of mushroom, forest floor, and barnyard. A rustic selection begging for Ommerang's Hennepin saison or Dogfish Head's Raison D'Atre. The Fleur de Maquis when fresh is like edible velvet. Made from milk of the Lacaune sheep, the same breed that provides milk for authentic roquefort, but Fleur is made on the island of Corsica. These 2 wheels have aged for about six months and have taken on a different texture, but a similar flavor profile. I was pleasantly surprised with the same herbal flavor and sheepy sweetness as when young, but with a firmer texture and more pronounced sharpness. It aged nicely with some manchego-like nuttiness. Lost cheeses, but found again. And enjoyed. I went out with fellow turophile friends today for an afternoon of eating, drinking, laughing, and spending money that we shouldn't be. We headed for a foodie Disneyland destination in Chicago that is part separate eateries and part high-end Italian supermarket. I was dead set on consuming burrata along a cold Peroni and had been dreaming about it for weeks. Wanting to be considerate when spending frivolous dollars without him, I asked my husband what cheese he wanted me to bring home. "Something alpine," he said. I thought maybe it would be challenging with the Italian themed establishment, but I knew I could come up with something. I had in mind Fontina Val D'Aosta, which is considered alpine, albeit not a main player like Le Gruyere. This is not the wimpy fontina that you find melted on sandwiches that want to claim a more exotic cheese than mozzarella. The Val D'Aosta is a washed rind raw cow's milk cheese from Piedmont. The wheels are smaller than gruyere and comte (around 30 pounds as opposed to 80), and when freshly cut, Val D'Aosta is creamy, slightly tangy with assertive fruity notes and the nutty finish we all love from a true alpine. I didn't buy val D'Aoasta. I came home with two cheeses, not alpine (oops), but both aged by well respected affineur Luigi Guffanti. The first a northern toma of raw cow's milk and the second a washed rind sheep's milk cheese called Pecorino Maremma. I saw a goat's milk robiola in the case, but had to pass it up this time as the walk back to the train was too long for a fragile bloomy rind cheese. Both cheeses were spectacular paired with Forelle pears and prosciutto and some white wine. The toma was slightly ammoniated, but after blowing off for an hour came into it's own. The Pecorino Maremma was the favorite. Velvety and decadent as most young sheep's milk cheeses are, with a distinct aftertaste of bouillon. |
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