Making Cheese with Michiko

I've been at Creeping Thyme Forest for two days and I've already learned so much. One of my favorite activities so far has been making cheddar cheese.

 Michiko had four or five quart jars of goat's milk in the fridge. We had to stir each one to recombine the milk and cream, then strain each one through a milk filter tucked inside a funnel over a large pot on the stove. We brought the filtered milk up to 145ºF (149, actually, because we were talking), using a thermometer to keep an eye on the temperature and stirring constantly. Then Michiko turned the heat down to low, covered the pot with a lid and a towel, and set the oven timer for thirty minutes. 

After the thirty minutes we put in a small amount of culture (I don't remember the name of it) and waited another thirty minutes, after which we put in two drops of rennet and waited another hour. (Cheese-making truly is a "hurry up and wait" kind of process, as David said.)

By the end of that hour (plus ten minutes), the cheese had taken on the consistency of a wobbly pudding. Michiko had me cut it into 1 1/2 inch squares with the wooden spatula we were using, and then she showed me how to turn the cubes. Mine wouldn't roll over as nicely as hers, but this was not greatly detrimental to the cheese. Then we let it sit for 10 minutes.

During those ten minutes, the cheese wept quietly. We returned to find it separated into white lumps suspended in yellowish liquid (curds and whey). Michiko stirred the pot from the bottom, turned the stove on to medium low, and instructed me to hold the thermometer in the concoction until it read 100ºF and stir occasionally.

As it heated, the curds separated even more from the whey, and got smaller and firmer. When the temperature reached 100ºF, we removed the pot from the heat and ladled the contents into a colander lined with an old T-shirt and situated over a container. When all the curds had been transferred to the T-shirt Michiko tied up the corners and hung the impromptu bag from a red string attached to one of the kitchen cabinet handles. The pot she placed underneath, to catch the whey that drained out. She said we would leave that for at least an hour; if we left it for six, she said, it would be feta, although feta doesn't need to be heated to 100ºF.

A while later, Michiko took down the bag and showed me how to crumble the solidified cheese shape with my fingers. She then sprinkled salt over the cheese and had me mix it in. She re-wrapped it in the T-shirt and stuffed the bundle into a plastic pitcher perforated with many small holes, which was sitting in a bowl. On top of the cheese she placed a wooden circle that perfectly fit into the pitcher, and on top of that a can of black olives. Then she slid a wooden cutting board with a hold cut at either end onto two sticks which were attached to another cutting board, on which the bowl with the pitcher in it was sitting. When the uppermost cutting board came to rest on the can of olives, she placed four dumbbells on top and pronounced it a cheese press.

The next morning we took the cheese out and sprinkled the whole surface with sea salt, then set it on the counter to dry for a while, uncovered. (We tasted some at that point too; it was soft, mild, and milky. Very good.)

I made butter, too, from cream that Michiko had in the freezer. Watching it separate into butter and buttermilk was a magical experience. 

Today we went to another wwoof host's farm higher up in the mountains. He gave us a tour and broadened my mind in regards to what is possible when starting a homestead.

I used to think I didn't like mountains. Now I feel that the mountains are the only place to be.