Converting Robin's weekly Bloomingdale Farmers Market “menu” for this site, I noticed Keswick Creamery was scheduled to have Vachino Bianca this week.
Though I love certain cheeses, cheese aficionados would scoff at my preferences. I don't care for cheddar, or, really, anything orange. I'll skip the feta, every time. I'll only use romano if it's fresh, and I don't go for parmesan at all. Pull out something with “three cheese” on the label, and you'll only see my back as I walk away.
In my twenties, I taught myself to like bleu cheese so I could have salads without sugary dressings. (Hard as it may be to believe, back then some restaurants only offered French, Russian, or bleu cheese . . . not even Italian.) In my thirties, I took a shine to Swiss cheese. For some reason I liked the way it bit me back. But like most, this affair didn't last.
We're in a great era for anyone who wants to get into cheese. Aficionados can delve into raw milk cheeses (made from unpasteurized milk), cave-aged cheeses, artisanal cheeses, even cheeses flavored by various insects, including the traditional – but notorious – Casu Marzu (aka Casu Frazigu) from Sardinia.
Mere cheese enthusiasts (not connoisseurs) can become armchair experts with resources like Cheese Forum and Curd Nerds. And DIYers can turn to David B. Fankhauser, Ph.D., an Ohio biology/chemistry professor who publishes recipes for cheese and other fermented food products (along with milk-related information) on Fankhauser's Cheese Page.
I fit into none of those categories. I like my cheese sweet and fresh – just like my milk.
Though I wasn't raised (okay, “reared”) in the South, in many ways I'm southern to the core. I grew up drinking “sweet milk”, as opposed to buttermilk, and passing up “light bread” in favor of cornbread. Forced by circumstances to move every year, my grandmother maintained few possessions. One of them was a milk cow, for whom she demanded separate pasturage. So I guess you could call me a milk snob.
Several years ago I decided I could not abide what passes for commercial milk these days. It smells – and tastes – sour to me. My farmy sister says supermarket milk usually comes from many different dairy farmers, and all gets mixed together. She thinks this means farmers have little incentive to be fastidious about cleaning their equipment. They can't exactly “sign” their work.
On top of that, I'm a vegan wannabe. I know my existence doesn't require – or warrant – the enslavement of animals. But with very limited time/energy and only a semi-kitchen, I cannot provide my body the protein it craves without resorting to dairy products.
Despite our chronic need to economize, I switched to organic milk. Not just any organic milk, but – if at all possible – organic milk from cows in a natural environment. I want “my” cows to spend their summers munching through uncrowded pastures, cooling down in watering holes, and meandering back to the barn around sundown . . . and their winters poking around for rare blades of grass to supplement the bales of hay waiting for them when they give up and head back to their warm barn. I don't want antibiotics, hormones, pesticides, or fertilizers to even come near “my” cows.
I want my dairy products simple, natural, and pure. This doesn't mean my cheese preferences have to be dreadfully dull, but they are. My favorites are ricotta, fresh mozzarella, and some types of farmer's cheese (since that term covers a wide gamut). I once wasted hours and hours in the Latino markets around Mt. Pleasant searching for an acceptable queso blanco. Alas, they are all way too salty.
So how do you think I reacted when I ran across this description of Keswick's Vachino Bianca? “A fresh cheese, great substitute for fresh mozzarella. A little sweet, slightly firm and sliceable. Great with tomatoes and basil or with fresh fruit for dessert. No rennet used." Yep, for once I knew I'd make it to market before noon.
Sure, one foodie described it as "a simple pressed ricotta", and I know ricotta is technically a dairy product, not a cheese. The word means “re-cooked”, since it's traditionally made from whey leftover from making “real” cheese – a by-product of a by-product. But in a way, that's even better. It's thrifty, and it's environmentally sound.
And either way, it's wonderful, at least when it comes from Keswick. I bought both ricotta and Vachino Bianca (the last container) today. Both are absolute perfection. The Vachino Bianca tastes like I imagine an unsalted queso blanco would.
When my partner, suddenly stricken with a severe summer cold, decided the only thing his stomach could handle was soup, I saw an unexpected opportunity to try the Vachino Bianca in an odd (for this season) way. I'd planned to test drive it paired with several varieties of fresh tomatoes I got at BFM today. But when he says soup, he means tomato soup. Sadly, it's not homemade tomato soup. It's Amy's canned Cream of Tomato. And since we're both, in our own way, bread snobs too (only Berlin Bakery's White Spelt and one other type of bread enter our house), we frequently run out of bread.
Luckily, I found some white corn tortillas in the refrigerator. After wrapping them around some chunks of Vachino, I popped them into the toaster oven until the tortillas were just starting to crisp, and the Vachino was just starting to think about melting. It took awhile for him to get the soup down, so I was able to sneak in a few dips (trusting my immune system, perhaps foolishly). Just as I expected, it's a natural combination.
Now I can't wait to try the rest of it (which isn't that much) with those tomatoes. And if I have a few extra bucks, you can bet I'll be back next week . . . but earlier, before it's all gone. I need this cheese (or perhaps “dairy product”) and Keswick, in a dramatic financial crunch right now, needs my money.
KL, 01 August 2010