Thursday, November 28, 2013

in which I feel like Prometheus (stealing fire, not the bit with getting my liver eaten by eagles eternally)

That is a bowl of cheese curds.  While they are not exactly dime-a-dozen in Wisconsin (more like $5.00/lb), they are very common there.  I grew to love cheese curds during my time in America's Dairyland, and  I have been in withdrawal ever since.  You simply can't find decent cheese curds in California--I tried some at the Davis farmers' market, but they were not so good.  Likewise, they're unavailable in Roseburg.  I remember samples of them as part of the Tillamook factory tour, but Tillamook is about four or five hours from here.  One sees them in groceries, but they are generally vacuum-packed and tagged with a sell-by date that is months in the future, suggesting a basic ignorance of the fact that they should be eaten less than a day after they were milk. 

So now I have made my own.  From the milk of my own goats, which is made from the grasses and brambles and grain and hay that I've fed them, from milk that was inside a goat earlier this morning, I've made cheddar cheese curds.  I've stolen the secret of cheese curds from Wisconsin, and I feel like Prometheus stealing fire from the gods.  And I've gotta say, those were some damn fine curds.  

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