I'm a cheesemaker. Somewhere, somehow it's become part of my identity. I didn't intend for this to happen... I just allowed the Universe to unfold it for me. I didn't plan to be a farmer either. I only wanted to grow and make real food for my family, and it kind of took off from there.
Life is funny that way. If you would have told me a year ago that I'd have 26 goats, 3 sheep and 400 or so chickens in the yard I would have rolled on the ground with laughter. But now it's no joke. And I love it. I mean, I go to bed tired every night. I work hard every day, dream nonstop, and experience a life-changing amount of gratitude each time I slow down enough to feel it.
But I'm getting off track here. I was wanting to blather on about my cheesemaking experience. It seems like I've reverse engineered becoming a cheesemaker. See, I wasn't addicted to cheese nor the idea of making it. Not at all. In fact, I've never shopped for a real cheese- you know, the kind that comes from a cheese shoppe with wheels and wheels of all kinds of artisan cheese on display- until two days ago.
My cheese knowledge and experience has all been from books and from the driver's seat... not from years of cheese-tastings. Don't get me wrong, I love cheese as much as I love my job. It just seems odd that I would find myself a seasoned cheesemaker before really falling in love with the idea of cheese and cheesemaking.
I'm not sure if I'm getting my point across here, but I guess I needed to get it off my chest. I can't remember if I've told you how delicious our new Havarti is, or that I'm releasing my first Parmesan this week. The reason I went cheese shopping was to try some Buttermilk Bleu... it's next on my list of cheeses to attempt . Exciting stuff!