It's Feta-like

Feta has a remarkable history that I was hardly aware of before now. Literally translated as "slice," the ancestry of this cheese has been chronicled in Homer's Odyssey. That's roughly 8,000 years ago, to you and me.

Though Greek in origin, the name "Feta" has become so commonplace to describe the solid, briny curds that there is little protection for it's true character (unless you're in the EU). Traditionally, and categorically, this cheese is made with sheep milk or a blend of sheep and goat milk, and must be aged wooden or metal containers for at least two months under brine.

And yes, that very special thing I had not too long ago, it wasn't feta. (They said it was feta, but it was really just a decadent adaptation.) Unfortunately, I have not yet had the pleasure to taste a true Feta, a Greek Feta, and it may be a while before I do - it is proving difficult to find outside of Greece. But I do know that my only truly amazing experience with a Feta-like cheese, came from Australia, made from sheep and goat milk. It shames all cow's milk (gasp!) imitations, as well it should.

I set out to recreate this experience. Who am I kidding - I made feta. I hoped it would come out flavorful and delicious; that was the best I could do. The first time, I began the endeavor later in the evening than I should have, and I simply couldn't entertain myself until 4 am when it was time to take down the hanging curds. And when I slept through sounds that should have brought me to tend to this matter (I was an hour late taking down the curds), the result was a hard mass, yes very feta-like, but after a few days in brine, I had salty rubber. On the second attempt, I began the endeavor later than I should have (hello, pattern) and once more depended on the sound of music to wake me from slumber. Yeah, not so much; again 1 hour late. But this time the results were much different.

Did I mention I used less rennet that second time? No, I forgot to tell you. Anyhow, on this occasion the curds were soft, almost jello like. I was not sure what to make of it. The delicate mass could barely stand slicing. Destined for a small baking dish, I determined that the cheese would not survive brine, so I opted for a generous salting at the base of the dish, and again atop the curds once inside.

Days later, a container full of cheese and brine emerged. I was surprised to find that the salt had leached just enough moisture from the cheese that the brine fully covered the slices. What's more, the cheese had become exceptionally firm. "Uh-oh," I thought, certain I was staring into another dish of bounceable curds.

I broke off a small corner, and was thrilled to find that I was terribly wrong. The curds were firm but so rich and creamy on the palette, with just the right amount of salt. It was amazing, really, I was quite impressed. Rarely do I offer myself a pat on the back...okay, I'm getting ahead of myself, I'll celebrate my accomplishments when I can do this a second time.

At this point, the curds were surely ready to be cut into cubes, destined for an olive oil soak; I'm trying to recreate an experience here. But because this was my first successful batch of this tangy farmer's cheese, I decided not to put any kind of herbs or spices in the oil, I wanted the true flavor of the feta-like cheese to stand on its own. I used my favorite oil, made with Arbequina olives; the green, grassy flavor of the oil is a huge compliment to this cheese.

Enjoyed alone, spread on crusty bread, alongside a crisp green salad - while the possibilities seemed not to end, the supply soon did. I'll have to make this again. I just hope I can make this again.

Now, I must tell you that some of the cheese never made it into the oil. My live-in baker was making pizza that very same day, and who doesn't love feta on pizza? However, we did not have any of the ingredients that would ordinarily (in my little world) accompany feta on this crisped-crust concoction, so an improvisation had to be made, and I was skeptical. Spicy Italian sausage and feta? No, that doesn't sound right. But let me tell you...perfect. It married beautifully with the sausage and truly won me over as a favorite topping combination.

YUM.