Oh My Gouda!

It finally happened! Some (I) said it couldn't happen, it wouldn't happen, but IT DID! I made cheese that tastes like...CHEESE! I don't know what to say. I didn't prepare a speech, I'm not ready.

Okay, did you know Gouda is actually pronounced gow-da? Funny, huh? It's probably just like that in your dictionary, too. Ever look it up? Me neither. Why would I? Everyone says it the same, Gouda (goo-da, 'cause it's so gooda). This is what happens when you spend any amount of time with someone from another country, you learn things. I learned that I've spent my whole life butchering the only Dutch word I ever knew. Forgive me if I sound obtuse, but I don't forsee any change either. I like my gooda.

Back to the cheese. Ahhh, my first successful cheese. What makes gouda different from other cheeses (that I've made, anwyay) is that it is a washed curd cheese. I suspect that this method is what has produced this marked difference in flavor and texture. It must be...there are no funny holes, no off smells, all yummy flavors. I've actually made one other washed curd cheese (Monterey Jack), and while it was one step closer to success than ones before it, it still wasn't good cheese. But the (so far) one success and one near-success are both produced in the washed curd method. Interesting.

Washing the curds actually lowers the acidity of the curd, making a softer, more mellow cheese. In the past, when my cheeses turned out the way they did, I couldn't pinpoint the cause of such faults. I searched for information hoping to learn something, anything, about what I could be doing wrong. Instead, I only found out that it could or couldn't be just about anything I did or didn't do. Hmm. But after this experience, I'm beginning to feel like I have a better understanding (no matter how small that may be) of the process. There is a relationship here, and I think it is pertaining to acidity.

While I am still too young a student in the world of cheese to know exactly what I think I'm talking about, and further have no idea how to use that information, I'm getting somewhere. In the meantime, I think I'll just work with these washed cheeses, see what I can continue to learn.

There is a smooth, moist and creamy texture to this cheese that was missing in those previous. Subtle but rich, slightly tangy aroma. Though I found a few holes within the cheese, it is nothing like the multitude of pin holes that I'd seen in the past. This cheese tastes good on its own. I don't have to turn it into something else. I don't have to alter it in any way. It is just good cheese. (Though we're not at damn good yet.)

The Ease of Goat Cheese

Finally! Something I can sink my teeth into!

Having no fortune (so far) with my hard cheeses, it's nice to finally make something so simple that comes out incredibly awesome. Well, after the first try anyway.

For any of you out there interested in making cheese, I highly recommend goat cheese. It is so easy, so tasty, so mmmm....The only challenge involved is finding the right milk. At first I looked for goat milk at my local natural foodie-type stores, and all I could find is produced by Meyenberg and to my chagrin, ultra-pasteurized. (If you haven't been keeping up, UP milk is bad - doesn't lend itself to making cheese of any sort due to denatured proteins.) But I decided to try it anyway. "I'll just add a bit more rennet, I thought," though I now can say that it doesn't work that way.

Soon after realizing that I would have to resort to making goat cheese with powdered goat milk in a can, I found real non-UP goat milk at my local Trader Joe's. This was actually shocking because TJ's is a sort of prepared foods-type market commonly known for it's "Two Buck Chuck" (cheap wine) selection and I never expected it to be my only source for goat milk. As an aside, I do not intend to trash-talk the powdered goat milk. For some it is the only option and as such should never discourage one from making goat cheese. (I bought the can. I have it in my pantry. And though I haven't yet tried it, I have every intention of doing so.)

The first time I made this was actually back in June; I haven't written anything about it until now because there were no pictures or fun stuff to go along with it. This was such an instant gratification cheese that it never lasted more that a few days. This stuff rocks!

The very first batch, yes that one wherein I decided to kick up the rennet, even that one turned out okay. Great flavor for a cheesy goat spread - that whole denatured protein thing kept it from becoming anything more substantial than that. The next batch was a "Fresh" goat cheese meaning that the culture itself was a fresh culture, not a "Chevre" culture. I did cheat though. I didn't have the patience to prepare a fresh culture; too involved - sterilization and mason jars, no thanks. Instead I added a direct set (meaning not prepared) freeze-dried culture that I read was sure to give me the same results. Not only did it work, but YUM! Curiously enough, this cheese had a very light and creamy texture and flavor. It wasn't like the drier and firmer texture of store bought goat cheese and it didn't have that tang. While I enjoyed it, I missed that goaty flavor I am accustomed to. I chalked it up to a lower quality goat milk (= less flavor). It wasn't until I made my next batch with a "Chevre" culture that I realized just exactly what role a culture plays in the process. This cheese tasted like that stuff you get in the stores, it even had the texture I expected. Ya think maybe those all of those books out there that suggest beginning with softer cheeses, playing with vastly different milks and cultures (lemon juice to vinegar to fresh to direct set) did so for a reason? Nah. But I was wrong (gasp!). It wasn't poor quality milk, it was fresh culture that left that cheese tasting so...fresh; and the "Chevre" culture is what made that other cheese taste like...Chevre!

And talk about easy! This stuff is nearly foolproof and so simple to make! All you need is to heat the milk to a particular temperature (depending on the culture), add said culture, cover, and let it sit! When the curd has coagulated, you gently scoop it into either plastic molds or butter muslin and allow it to drain. No problemo! Someday, I will take pictures of this process for all to witness its ease.

And what could be better than goat cheese-wrapped goat cheese, you ask? In this recipe, a pie crust-like pastry was made of goat cheese and flour and wrapped around more goat cheese. I sprinkled chopped thyme over the surface of the goat cheese round prior to wrapping and gave it a brush of egg wash before baking. I baked this sucker forever and it never really browned. (I'm still looking into that one.) Next time I'll drain the goat cheese even longer; I believe it was the steam emanating from the baking cheese that created this gooey canyon, and the cheese itself seemed to separate. Piping hot, this actually wasn't that good. The cheese was too watery and the delicate flavor of the pastry didn't come through. After cooling significantly, I found this treat to be at its best slivered like a piece of pie and eaten out of hand with no accompaniments necessary.

Did I say YUM?

That' salata Love!

In a previous life working as a restaurant manger, a couple once (okay, it happened more than once - though not with the same couple) sent back their soup because it was too salty. Very graciously, the young woman declared that the Chef must be in love. There I stood with a perplexed look, not sure what to say, when she continued, "We have a saying: A Chef who cooks with too much salt is a Chef in love." Ahh, the French.

As for me, I have a love for cheese; an over-salted, pungent love.

Let's talk ricotta. Ricotta is a natural by-product of cheese making; it is made from the whey. What is whey? When you add culture to milk, it acts on the proteins in milk separating it into curds - the solids that will later become cheese, and whey - a cloudy yellowish liquid. Interestingly enough, the word ricotta translates as "recooked." (Ah-hah!)

Now, I have used whey in bread and pizza dough, and nearly every time I've made cheese, I've tried making ricotta from straight whey. And while the recipe promises 1/2 pound of ricotta, so far I've been lucky to yield a tablespoon. It's the best damn tablespoon of ricotta I've ever tasted, but are you kidding me? Surely it should make more than a spoonful!

Well, I gave up on this whey stuff. It's still something I use for baked goods, but for ricotta it seems you're just better off going whole milk, especially if you would like to share your efforts, as a tablespoon only goes so far. So I decided to take this one step further and make ricotta salata, or salted ricotta. This cheese is simply fresh ricotta that is salted, dried and aged.

Fresh ricotta itself is relatively easy to make (see below). All you need is milk and citric acid (and a pot to cook it in, cheesecloth, etc.) which you can find online very easily if you don't live near a shop catering to brewing and vinification (wine making). For ricotta salata, the drained curds are lightly pressed for about 12 hours before moving on to the drying stage. In this last stage, which can last anywhere from 2-4 weeks, the surface of the cheese is lightly rubbed with salt in the first week.

And then there's my version. I decided to age this ricotta in my cheese fridge. I've told you about this contraption, haven't I? Well, I have a little dorm fridge that I keep at approximately 55 degrees - a temperature that will support the aging of cheese better than the colder temperature of an everyday fridge. And in this cheese cave (if you will) at the time I had a variety of things going on in there, one of them being mold. Yes, I was trying to do some mold-ripened cheeses at the same time. (You haven't heard about those because I quickly turned them into little hockey pucks that went straight into the round file.) My recipe for ricotta salata said nothing about keeping this particular cheese in the warmer environment of my cave, but I thought it would be a grand, really add to the flavor of my cheese. But what my recipe did say was that if unwanted mold appeared on the cheese (as it did, often, due to the mold-ripened cheeses it was sharing space with) to rub it off with cheesecloth dipped in salt water, or if it became soft with moisture to towel it off and rub the surface with salt again.

I rubbed this dear thing with salt for not only the first week, but several times again over the three after that. I was so excited to try it. It aged for a month, and I babied it. It was loved. It was gross.
It was SOO salty. And it had this slightly off, ripened in the wrong way, flavor. Hmm...why not put it in pasta?! It's perfect for pasta! I'll make sauce without any added salt, I'll boil pasta in unsalted water. There are probably reasons why no one espouses ways to compensate for severely over-seasoning things, because you can't (do understand the operative word here is severe), but I tried nonetheless.

The pasta was good, I salted the water. I can't make pasta without salting the water. Then I made a sauce with stuff I had around the house: canned tomatoes, eggplant, mushrooms, and garlic. Add a little garnish of the saltiest cheese you'll ever have, eh, not so bad.

Will I do this again? Yes. Will I do it differently? You bet. I'll keep you posted.



Whole Milk Ricotta
adapted from Home Cheese Making by Ricki Carroll

1 Gal Whole Milk (not ultrapasteurized)
1 tsp Citric Acid (dissolved in 1/4 c. cool water)
1 tsp Kosher Salt (optional)

1 large non-reactive pot, preferably stainless steel, glass or enameled
1 instant read thermometer (you can find this in any cooking store, some markets, and online)
1 colander
1 bowl (to go under the colander)
3 sq. ft. (more or less) butter muslin or fine cheesecloth
twine*


1. Combine the milk, citric acid solution, and salt (optional).

2. Heat the milk to 185-195 degrees (F) but do not boil. Stir frequently to prevent scorching.

3. As soon as the curds separate from the whey (be sure this whey is a clear yellow, not a cloudy white), turn off the heat and allow the pot to sit undisturbed for 10 minutes.

4. Line a colander with clean butter muslin (rinsed in cold water), and carefully ladle the curds into the colander. Tie the corners of the muslin together in a knot and hang the bag of curds for 20-30 minutes depending on the consistency you are looking for. You're done! Enjoy! (It keeps in the refrigerator, covered, for 1-2 weeks.)

*Though twine is not necessary, I found it to be easier to tie up a muslin bag with twine. After tying the corners of the muslin bag together, forming a knot, I tie a long strand of twine around that knot and use the twine to hang the bag from a cabinet handle - it is far less messy than looping wet, milky cheesecloth over my kitchen furniture (as that is my only option). A word of advice if you try this method...be sure you have strong twine. And, as a protective measure, I keep a colander over a catch-bowl under the cheese; that way, if the twine should break, the bag of curds does not go plunging back into the liquid that just drained from it. (Of course, this, I learned the hard way.)

I Don't Know Jack (Almost)

Shortly after my first four batches of hard cheese, I had grown tired of the farmhouse cheddar and decided to move on to Monterey Jack.

Jack is a washed cured cheese, meaning that hot water is added to the curds (replacing the whey) during the near-final stages of the cheesemaking process in order to wash away some of the lactic acid, therefore softening the texture and flavor. The process itself is quite involved and not for beginners, which would be why the recipe is always in the advanced part of just about any book on cheesemaking that I've seen. (Duh, I'm an expert.) Determined not to be discouraged, I plucked another cheese out of the cave this weekend.

How surprised was I to find that this one was not so bad? Allow me to elaborate. At first glance, you can see that the curds did not fully bind together at the surface of the cheese, a result of pressing tepid curds. A little disappointed, I expected to cut into a block of cheese that had simply not come together because the temperature was not maintained carefully enough. What I found inside was a rather smooth texture, disturbed only by a few small holes. Again, I found that these holes were most likely caused by a low temperature pressing; they did not at all resemble the little bubble-like holes in my first cheeses that would later come to indicate a certain yuck factor.

Now for the sample. As smooth as this fine specimen appeared, it was rather dry but not unpleasant, and the creaminess came through in the mouthfeel. But still it was sour. (OK then, maybe those holes were caused by a little bit of both the chilly curds and excess gas created in the fermentation process.) Though probably the least sour and most cheese-like of all hard cheeses I've made so far, it still isn't good enough to just eat a hunk of. Arrgh! What good is making cheese if you can't eat it, I ask you?! Will I ever create something worth ingesting, let alone enjoyable? Stay tuned to find out...

In other news, this poor thing died while waiting to become something new, something delicious. Its caretaker is being sought for questioning.

What Was I Thinking??

So, my original plan was to become an expert cheesemaker with the first batch. Each week I sought to make a pair of cheeses using the same recipe with different milks so I could compare flavors and textures. Eventually, I would start experimenting with cultures and such on my own, to create my very own cheese recipes. Yes, I wanted to become a professional dancer before I learned how to walk.

Just three batches of cheese into my new profession, I created a 2# batch of organic milk farmhouse cheddar. This was also the last cheese produced without the help of some sort of cheese mold. I was using a ricotta mold, which is much like a basket with very little structural support, especially when applying weight, so I did experience some difficulties getting this one to settle down. The two batches prior were half the size of this one, an advantage I wan't aware of until it was too late. In the end, I had literally babysat this cheese for several hours, standing over it, trying to keep the weights level. Yes, I even used a level. When it was all said and done, I waxed it up to put away for a couple of months.

The following week, I made the same recipe with raw milk, this time using my brand new cheese mold. I was so excited! Until it was time to press, and that quickly became not so fun. This one is affectionately known as the "angry cheese." The now-retired makeshift cheese press consisted of a cutting board with two 10# dumbell weights balanced on the board. It had worked well with the two 1# cheeses, and only moderately well with the first 2# cheese, though I had blamed that on the cheese mold not being sturdy enough to balance such weight. Well, after a broken plate and dented linoleum (the weights fell off once or twice or so) the cheese was relocated several times before finding it's home in the sink where the seemingly inevitable descent of the weights would be padded by empty plastic milk cartons. Much to my dismay, this arrangement only created probably one of the most horrible sounds one person could ever be awakened by, especially at 4 in the morning. I can only imagine what the poor souls living below must've been thinking. [A cheese press was purchased shortly after this experience.] I cleverly decided to bandage this cheese; the last attempt at waxing proved too troublesome with the available quantity of wax, and I already had enough trouble with this one.

One of these days I'll slow down enough to read the directions.

I didn't bandage my cheese with two layers of muslin as directed. In theory, the bandage prevents any mold formation from actually penetrating the cheese and allows for its quick removal along with the bandage when it is time to enjoy the aged mass of curds. As the cheese molded over, "OOOH, it's growing," I'd elate. I almost couldn't wait! I had to see, to taste! I knew this one would be good. Until I came across a little snippet in a book sent to me by a Dedicated Fan entitled What Can Go Wrong with a picture very similar to my angry cheese and the first line reading "Look at this ugly thing!" I was aghast! I ran to my cheese cave to retrieve the poor mistreated little thing, ripped off its bandages and proceeded to "salvage" my tasty treat, as per the instructions in the book, before it was too late!

Well, this weekend I open up this pair of cheeses, and what I found was remarkably similar to the first pair I opened up just a few weeks prior. Once again, the raw milk cheddar had tiny little bubbles inside, though it was not accompanied by that "off" odor; in fact, the odor was quite pleasant. If only it had tasted that way. It was sour, almost bitter. The texture was dry, though I expected that due to the bandaging technique. (Bandaging does not provide an airtight seal such as wax.) The pasteurized cheese had a smoother, more buttery texture, but no flavor and a slight sourness. Bummer.

So what did I learn this time?

1. Cheese does not take well to balancing 20# on its own.

2. Don't make any hard cheeses when you have to work the next day.

3. It's time to go back to the basics, get on all fours and start crawling.

Making Something out of Nothing

I knew from the beginning that this whole cheesemaking thing would add up to alot of cheese. And when it's just not nice enough to even share but not bad enough to toss, that adds up to alot of cheesy foods.

Case in point, farmhouse cheddar #2. (It's cousin, farmhouse cheddar #1 met with an early demise. Your condolences are appreciated.)

From this I decided to make some cheddar biscuits and something else...but what? Coincidentally, I had recently received a book called The Cheese Bible from a dedicated fan and a good deal of that book contains recipes. Perfect...cheese sables it is!

The biscuits were inspired by Baking with Julia, though it would behoove me to find a recipe that actually contains cheese for future experiments.

And perhaps I should add that it might be good if I had the right kind of flour. It was too late (as in, I was at the point in my day where returning to the grocery store was no longer an option) before I realized that I only had bread flour. Bread flour has a higher protein content, so it tends to make things that aren't actual breads a bit tougher.


The biscuits turned out pretty well. They weren't tender, light, and flaky (as biscuit should be so you're probably thinking, "How can that be good?") but they made an okay sandwich component. They tasted nice, as far as the cheddar and chive combo, though the cheddar flavor was surprisingly subtle.


The cheese sables were pretty (dressed a few up with cayenne, some with black pepper) and they had nice flavor, but they were DRY. Seriously, they were choking material. I don't know if that's attributed to the bread flour or the recipe itself. Hmmm...must experiment further.

The First Time Always Hurts

I made my very first batch of cheese on May 14 of this year, a 1# wheel of organic raw milk farmhouse cheddar. (Because I chose to use raw milk, it was recommended that the cheese age for a minimum of 2 months.) The following weekend I made my second batch using the same exact recipe only with different milk, an organic pasteurized milk. My goal was to compare the resulting flavor of a cheese based solely upon its milk content. If only that were the case; I forgot about the human error part.

The first foray into the cheese making process, I wasn't familiar with just how quickly the temperature of milk could rise. Or for how long it would be able to hold a temp, no matter how wrong. And not only that, but when I made the brilliant decision to create half recipes rather than full ones I think I split the bag of cultures unevenly (which undoubtedly created a vast difference in the two cheeses). Nonetheless by the end of my maiden voyage, I thought it was all pretty straightforward. I amaze myself sometimes with such logic.

Then came the second attempt. I suddenly had become an expert, and while I kept my temperatures down to the desired level (mostly anyway), I moved things along a bit too quickly when it came time to bring the curds from 90 to 100 degrees. This resulted in a greater mass of curds that were particularly softer than the first batch. These curds seemed to be holding on to too much whey (once more, I had become an expert) and were difficult to press.

I was sure that the first cheese would champion the second. There goes that human error part again. Fast forward: it is now two months later and time for the cheeses to be enjoyed. Well, sort of.

The first cheese had an odor emanating from the scored wax. That can't be good. And it wasn't. For the first time it genuinely occurred to me that I'm dealing with a living product. It has the ability to "do things," (I just don't know what yet). There was an air pocket, a big one, and little bubbles everywhere else. I didn't do that...IT did it. I was almost afraid to taste it, but I was compelled to; it was sour and off. At that point it was only good for a photo op. The second wheel had a much more pleasant odor, a texture that looked somewhat like cheese should, and it even tasted okay (though it was still pretty sour). This cheese was destined to become something greater. Well, something edible.

So what did I learn?

I have no idea. I can probably guess that temperature played a major role in the outcome, but that's about as far as I'm willing to go. I did learn that I need to take better notes. (I'm wondering what exactly I thought I was trying to communicate to future generations of cheesemakers with my little journal. It was like trying to read transcripts of a broken conversation out of context.) I also learned that I need to make more soft cheeses, those have been easier and much more delicious so far. As for the rest, the firmer of the craft, I will cheese press on. I'm not afraid of mistakes, I figure I'll just get more of the experience I need to make great cheese. (Though, if it KEEPS happening, I might swear off dairy forever. Kidding.) All in all, not bad for a first time.

The Cheese Did Not Fail Me; I Failed the Cheese

Part 2 of a 39-part series.

When life gives you sour milk, you make cheesecake..?

Well, when Jasmine goes to the store and mistakenly buys Ultra-Pasteurized milk, that's what she does. As any fellow cheesemaker might know, UP milk is the devil. Ultra-Pasteurizing milk brings it to such extreme temperatures during the process that the proteins become denatured and therefore unsuitable for cheese making (i.e. the milk won't coagulate).

After about 2 hours of waiting for my Gouda to become something less like milk and more like cheese ("Hmmm, that's strange,") I realized my amateurish error. I decided to hang the barely-coagulated curd in butter muslin, thinking I could do something with it (see Part 1 of this series). The next day, I rustled up some graham crackers and butter and began working on a pair of springform pans; crushed the crackers, pressed two beautiful crusts and proceeded to mix the filling. Then I tasted the cheese.

Wait, something's out of order.

It was sour; and the more I tasted it, it was not just sour but bitter. "Hmmm, I don't know," I kept telling the clabbered mass, expecting it to beg me for a chance. Eventually, it did. So I added sugar and more sugar. And well if you can't beat 'em, join 'em: I added Key lime juice (the milk had the sour-bitterness of citrus without the flavor). Then more sugar...and sweetened condensed milk...and Meyer lemon juice. There wasn't room for the sink.

I wasn't convinced.

So I let it sit. Truth be told, I just couldn't get to it for a few days, so it had to. But strangely enough, days later the sour-bitter mellowed. It was ready to take its new form. I added eggs, more Key lime juice (that had faded a bit, too), and a touch of vanilla. Into the pan went the filling, and into the oven went the pan.

Over an hour later...

[It turns out I still don't know how to use my oven, so it may have been an hour...or more...it was supposed to be only 50 minutes, or so I thought when I "turned off" the oven to let the cheesecake cool in the warmth of the oven (huh?). I kept checking on it, and it kept getting bigger and eventually I figured out I had not actually turned off the oven, but merely made the motions to do so with no follow-through. Since this particular goof worked in my favor, I'll end this tangent.]

...the first one emerged. It was quite lovely. The second followed suit. Probably some of the most aesthetically pleasing cheesecakes I've ever made. Technically, this isn't even cheesecake, it's whole-milk cake. No cream or cream cheese (so it's really diet cheesecake). I made a smaller yet taller one with a chocolate crust, and a wider more shallow one with a cinnamon graham crust. The short round won. It was much more dense and probably closer to actual cheesecake, though both had a somewhat grainy texture reminiscent of ricotta, which makes sense considering the ingredients. Although I have to wonder if lower heat in the oven might have prevented such a result. And while it just wasn't cheesecake, it was a delightfully tasty failure.

Adventures in Cheesemaking

Somehow, an obsession has bloomed.

"I want to make cheese," I said.

A cabinet full of equipment, a freezer full of cultures, and a dorm fridge cheese cave later, I have become a curd nerd.

Just as I began to tackle the world of cheese, to merely scratch the waxed surface, I realized there are very few resources out there for the home cheese maker. Those that are out there are good ones; I couldn't have embarked on my quest without them. But I want more. I want a recipe for Queso Cotija!! I must learn the ways of Burrata! I need to experience Gruyere!

And here I am, hoping to connect with others having the same basic needs: all things cheese.

With love, in curds.