The Cheese House. My Cheesemaking Travels, Jasper Hill 2014. The Vermont Diaries 2/3
I was right to be daunted at the prospect of working in the creamery though it turns out that getting my mind and body around the early starts – 4.30am most mornings – was the easy bit.
Many of you may think that I know how to make cheese. Despite my love for it I must confess that I had no real understanding of what cheese making is. It turns out that it’s 75% cleaning. And to be honest I’m being generous to the cheese making allocation here. So, the good news was that I do at least know how to clean.
Unfortunately, despite that aptitude I am still at a disadvantage in this creamery. It is an environment where you could argue that many women would not be suited to working. Nearly every activity requires just that extra bit of muscle mass. It makes me feel like I am built wrong, like someone forgot to insert a bit of sinew that would help me heft just that little bit harder. And hefting really is the order of the day as curds are moulded, whey drained, trays of twelve cheeses at a time are carried and turned, stacks built and tables, floors, ceilings and walls constantly washed, scrubbed and sanitised.
The Cheese House makes three cheeses; Bayley Hazen Blue, Moses and Harbison. Bayley is made in a large, low, round 1,895 litre vat from unpasteurised milk while Moses and Harbison are pasteurised and the milk handled in a tall 2,440 litre tank. Cultures and rennet are added with Bayley moulded direct from the vat and Moses and Harbison from eight 230 litre bins which are upturned onto a moulding table. The cultures provide a wide range of characteristics from flavour to rind development and the rennet is what causes the milk to coagulate so that the curds can be cut and curds and whey formed. Strangely, understanding and experiencing all this feels like a side issue somehow. A show that is going on in the wings while the main stage is set and focused on the job at hand; cleaning.
A note on the great show that is happening in the wings. Curds are amazing. They have this incredible texture, particularly at the beginning when they have just been cut. They are like soft, silky, slippery things that have been born from the depths of the vat. You feel privileged to touch them but know you must not hold on too tight. It’s a wonderful, sensual experience that seems to jar with the nature of the rest of the work where it can honestly feel like everything is trying to hurt you.
I’m sure it isn’t intentional but something about the challenges of strength and coordination mean that nearly every task has the potential to scratch, bruise, pinch, scrape, bash and burn in a range of different ways. Arms begin to look like battle grounds decorated with the war wounds of this labour of love. It is also incredibly hot. The humidity and warmth required for moulding in this cheese house is intense. I have never sweated so profusely in such close proximity to other people. There is something faintly indecent about the whole thing as we all become sopping wet from a mixture of cleaning water, whey and our own sweat. An added dimension to this is that the current staff team are all men. Lovely men who are warm and welcoming but who also carry their egos around in this small intense cheese house like islands that need to be navigated.
The Cheese House is a beautifully designed building full of large panelled glass windows and as I watched the sun rise through them on early mornings and saw the cows amble down the hillside after milking or the mists rise from the mountains I felt blessed to be there but those moments were rare. The rest of the time I was simply coping with the challenges and demands of the work. This type of cheesemaking really is a craft that takes blood, sweat and tears as payment. All in a worthy cause of course and it is one I would adhere to but I can’t help wondering if the high staff turnover tells a story of its own.
Note: Credit to Phoebe (my amazing intern suite flatmate) for ensuring that I did not get eaten by a bear as she insisted, quite rightly, that I should not try and walk into work at 4am but get lifts with her instead. It is so dark as this time that I could genuinely still be wondering lost in the woods. If I had not been eaten by the aforementioned bear that is…
So, onwards to The Farm. I feel excited about this final chapter though I have no idea how it will be or if I’ll be able to take part in milking as I would like to. Will have to wait and see.
In other news I have been to:
- Montreal for a cheese tasting event and seen incredible food markets and tasted putine. It is the local delicacy (in Vermont as well) which is made up of chips, gravy and cheese curds. Yes really, and it’s surprisingly good.
- New York (the state not the city) to see a cow research centre where they make holes in cows stomachs to monitor their digestion.
- The local County Fair where I ate a fried blossom onion with ranch sauce and stood with my right hand over my heart as the Star-Spangled Banner was sung by a young fireman before a Demolition Derby. This is an event where bumper cars is played out for real with a wide range of vehicles repeatedly crashing into one another until only one car is left able to drive. Apparently I have finally seen the real America.
Signing off for now,
Emma
Part Time Cheese Support Worker
The Cheese House
Jasper Hill
VT, USA
