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swiss cheese

When most of us think of Swiss cheese we think of creamy, holey slices on our ham sandwiches. The truth is, Swiss cheeses are as diverse as cheeses anywhere else, coming in all shapes, sizes, forms, and textures. Most common are the traditional Alpine varieties that come in gigantic wheels of sweet, nutty, calcium-rich, deliciousness from which we in America have singularized into those “Swiss” sandwich slices. Recently, photographers Fabian Scheffold and István Vizner have been tromping around the beautiful Swiss countryside photographing these cheese makers. Their description of the cheese landscape in Switzerland sums up the attitude of most artisan cheese makers anywhere:

“The Book about Swiss Cheese Makers began as an editorial project for a journalist friend. ” I expected this to be an agricultural trip, meeting people who make a living through the production of cheese in a more or less industrial way, ” Scheffold confesses.”But fare(sic) from it: I met unorthodox lateral thinkers, visionary fellows, modest canny and successful people living and working in some of the most spectacular landscapes of Switzerland. Some sell their products abroad, inventing a new cheese every other month, some work exactly as they have learned from their fathers, now sometimes just selling to hikers visiting their remote location by chance. But all of them seemed to follow an individual vision they are not willing to betray for growth and money.”

I believe that this quotation is an example of an excellent and honest observation of the appeal of artisan cheese making and artisan farming in general (not just in Switzerland) and why so many young people are drawn toward it as a valid career option. We have become terribly jaded by the consequences of an endless pursuit of money. I recently watched the 1980′s film Wall Street, made by Oliver Stone as a kind of modern morality tale about the perils of big money. Despite the creative intentions for the film, the reaction of most young, upstart business people at the time was that the film’s villain, Gordon Gekko, was a hero, calling out to young businesspeople and showing them the unqualified pleasures of making gobs of money, regardless of the shady ways and shaky ethics this pursuit necessitates. I wonder now, though, in a world with Etsy in it and the New York Times doing pieces on people like this as real business, if Gordon Gekko’s famous quotations would fly: “I don’t create, I own.”

With some, it probably always will, but it seems that the incoming generations are placing a higher value on the benefits of the qualitative aspects of life: a vision that is uniquely their own that attempts to define what a good product and process is over which product and process gives the most economic gain. There is a strong pull among young folks to create for a living over creating money in pursuit of owning for a living. Along with this notion comes the idea that a business is more than a money-generating enterprise. It can have multiple bottom lines. Businesses are accounting for triple bottom lines more and more, looking out for things like impact on people and environmental impact alongside profits. Multiple bottom lines can generate a variety of tangible and intangible values that the business creates and is responsible for; it is at once more complex and diverse than the simple profit bottom line, and yet can yield a drastic cut in the chaos of running a business. It can force it to slow down and can limit the business in helpful ways. In other words, multiple bottom lines can close doors to certain options, making the path that the business needs to take much clearer. One thing this means is that a business often has to be clear about how big it will get from the outset: when a business has unchecked growth it is often at the expense of either people, the environment, or both. We’ve seen the results of the illusion of infinite growth both in economics and in agriculture. It ends in disaster. That an entrepreneur and business person can draw a hard line about how big his or her company can grow and still be hugely successful and economically viable isn’t a new thought in America, but the increased traction is. And it’s encouraging. Let’s hope we can all become Swiss cheese makers.

With these thoughts in mind, I leave you with a lovely piece from the website Civil Eats, the Young Farmer’s Manifesto:

Many of us never meant to become farmers. We had ambitions to enter the world as accountants or lawyers or teachers or some other clean, respectable professional. We never really thought about the origins of our food; we always knew that the supermarket shelves would fill themselves, that food came in boxes or cans ready to serve and that farmers were simply one dimensional photographs in the mix of a hot new marketing campaign.
Farming was at best some idyllic retirement scheme, never a seriously considered career possibility.
But then something happened. In the previously steady route of our lives, a shift occurred. The soil moved under us somehow, got stuck in the creases of our pants, in the ridges of our shoes, in the lines of our palms. Suddenly white picket fences, situation comedies and mutual fund returns didn’t seem so interesting anymore…(Read More)

The Mad Farmer Liberation is happening…

spring fever

I’m writing this from my kitchen counter on a rainy (again) afternoon feeling the restless tension of a Spring that is coming, but has not yet come. Daffodils are pushing up, the grass is growing; I walk the pastures and see lush, vivid patches of clover just waiting to be munched by our sheep; our sheep, which, like Spring, are not quite here yet. We anticipated their arrival in March, but the ewes dropped a little late and so our lambs are still too young to come to their new home.

We’ve started rotating our seven borrowed sheep through one of the pastures. It’s sort of nice to get to practice some of our systems on a small group before our large group of permanent sheep arrive, and while Franklin appriciastes that he has a job to do while we’re waiting, I am experiencing a kind of anxious listlessness: I am chomping at the bit, rearin’ to go!

Amidst this lull in farm activity, I feel the need to give myself a moment to reflect on everything that has happened since January and to take stock of where we’ve been. I’ve compiled a list:

  • arranged for acquiring 15 ewe lambs and 1 ram lamb of dairy genetics
  • researched and contacted farms selling lambs with meat genetics
  • purchased 160 baby chickens and raise them
  • designed logotype and print business cards
  • designed fencing system, hired crew, and got fences built and electrified
  • moved a telephone pole/ fought with the power company
  • demolished a house (after removing the more useful items and the rest of Chattahoochee Hills removing the less useful ones)
  • learned how to use a generator and that corn-subsidized ethanol in gasoline destroys small engines
  • purchased a truck
  • purchased a livestock trailer
  • purchased a flatbed trailer
  • purchased a tractor
  • clean out barn (12 ft dumpster’s worth of crap!)
  • hauled over a ton of old metal to recycler
  • built a portable chicken house
  • wired the red barn for electricity
  • acquired two livestock guardian dogs, one via airport, one via 6-hour drive
  • lost and retrieved two livestock guardian dogs
  • begun working with an architect for the creamery
  • had one big face-to-face meeting w/ dairy consultant plus lots of phone calls and emails
  • solidified cheese types and initial make procedures
  • made our first sales commitment for eggs
  • attended the Georgia Organics Annual Conference
  • registered with USDA/FSA for grants
  • hosted two farm volunteer days
  • acquired a business license
  • repiped the spigot on the well
  • been to home depot about a bazillion times
  • re-roofed and replaced rotted wood on red barn and hey barn (as of today!)

I know there’s a load of stuff I’m forgetting, not to mention the minutia involved in every one of these activites, plus daily chores and other “life activites” such as eating, sleeping, and doing laundry, but it’s all been seriously, seriously awesome. I really, honestly can’t wait for it to get busier! Bring on the Spring!

meet Franklin

Sheep are tasty. They are small and not terribly smart, making them quite easy for a predator (human, canine, feline, or otherwise) to get hold of one and enjoy. However, humans have taken it upon themselves to horde sheep for their own, private consumption. In return for their meat, milk, and fibre, we provide sheep plentiful sources of food and water, along with protection from other creatures that find them just as delectable as we do. This is, essentially, the sacred contract of farming with livestock. In return for their lives, we provide them with food, water, medicine, protection from predators, humane treatment, and a humane death. Consider for a moment which you would rather have happen to you: coyotes kill an animal by opening the abdomen and eating the internal organs, wild dogs will maim to death slowly and violently. Humans kill animals, when we do it correctly, by either stunning with a single blow to the head or else slitting the throat with a sharp knife. Neither is pretty, neither is fun, but you get where I’m going here. The same goes for food and water. Food and water are precious amenities in nature that often shift, dry up, or are otherwise of limited access. Most wild animals spend every minute of their waking lives looking for food. Part of the deal when one raises livestock is that food for the stock is always provided and is easy for them to get. Temple Grandin, whom I love and write about often, says that nature is harsh, but we don’t have to be. Agriculture itself is a kind of insurance against the harshness of nature. It is still very much at the mercy of nature, but it allows us some respite from the daily struggle to fill one’s belly. Part of how we keep the harshness of nature at bay for animals is by providing them with a similar respite as well as protection through the use of guardian animals.

Guardians are an essential part of any farm that raises small animals. Dogs are the most common and have been used for this purpose the longest. There are literally, a bazillion different breeds of guardian dog, each bread for its home region, type of stock it is works well with, specific behaviors, and specific temperaments. In addition to dogs, farmers have also used llamas and donkey’s as effective guardians. For a long time, Ross and I thought we would use llamas to guard our sheep. That all changed, however, when we met Nancy Osborne of Cordero Farms when we were in Vermont last summer. Nancy told a story about the dogs that guard her sheep. Apparently, her farm lost power during a big, midwestern snowstorm. Nancy had painstakingly sorted her sheep into different breeding groups and put a dog with each group. Because of the loss of power, she was convinced that she was going to have a very long couple of days re-sorting everyone. How wrong she was! The dogs not only kept the sheep safe while the electric fences were out, but kept each group of sheep together and separate from the others. This sold me completely, not just on using dogs, but on using a particular breed: Maremmas.

In a nutshell, Maremmas are the Italian version of the well-known Great Pyrenees. They are big, white, bushy dogs with calm demeanors but formidable when they or their charges are threatened. The main difference between the two is that the Pyrenees was bread to guard a perimeter; thus, they wander, sometimes quite far, and don’t generally stick with the stock. Maremmas, however, develop a strong bond with their stock and stick with them.

I spent the better part of the past few months learning about these dogs, watching information and questions pass through Maremma list-serves, reading, and talking with breeders and other farmers who keep them. Through this process, I was able to find Frankie.

Frankie, is an 18-month old Maremma from Washington State. He is an amazing dog. In preparation for his arrival, we borrowed three sheep and six lambs from a neighbor for him to look after until our sheep arrive. It took Frankie a while to adjust to things here. He arrived via 747 jet, clearly a bit traumatized from the experience and wondering where the heck his mom and sheep were. I’m sure he also had a bit of jet-lag; he was quite sleepy for several days. His transiton has been less than perfectly smooth. Due to his privious owner’s schedule, we had to take Frankie about two-weeks sooner than we were really ready for. I wanted to make sure all of our fences were up before we brought a dog to the farm, but that didn’t happen and on Saturday, we paid the price.

While we were working on building our chicken houses with a group of volunteers, Ross and I both heard a yelp and saw a flash of white coming down the hill from the barn where the borrowed sheep were. Frankie had gotten out. My theory is that he jumped out of his pen to get nearer to the sheep. The sheep were inside a temporary electro-net fence. Frankie’s pen was just outside this fence. We think Frankie must have touched his nose to the electro-net, got a shock, and took off in the opposite direction. Ross and I both yelled “shit!” and took off after him, leaving our poor volunteers quite bewildered. However, once they figured out what was going on, they sprang into action, either following after us or jumping into cars to go patrol the roads. We were able to find him after about half an hour of searching. He had made his way over to our neighbor’s pasture, across the creek, and had nestled himself on the side of a steep ledge. The relief I felt was profound. We had him. But a new tension was emerging in me: how in the world were we going to get him back? After looking and talking for a few minutes, we could not figure out a good way to get him down. The whole time, I was just so worried; Frankie had been with us only two days. He had no idea who any of us were or what we were asking him to do. It was not hot outside, but he was panting from stress and several times looked as if he was going to fall asleep standing up. We were all stressed as we floated ideas, tried to get Frankie to come along, only to have it fail. We called our friend Chip, who had been helping us with the chicken houses. He’s a firefighter, and so I figured he had some good expirence with these types of rescue missions. My hunch was right, after quite a lot of discussion and a series of failed attempts that only stressed Frankie further. Chip’s idea to dig down from the top of the ledge to make it less steep so Frankie might be more inclined to hop up safely worked. Again, there was a sense of huge relief. We breathed again and cheered. Chip took a big, celebratory swig of Gatorade. Ross started walking Frankie through the woods back towards the farm. We thought the long struggle was over. My friend Lauren and I went back up to the barn to reconfigure things so that he would not be able to get out again. After we finished, though, Ross and Frankie had not appeared. Something was wrong. Lauren and I walked down the road towards the bridge that crosses the creek where there seemed to be some activity. The bridge. The damn bridge. Frankie would not cross the bridge. The floor of the bridge is grated steel, something we knew we would have to fix for the sheep to be willing to cross it, but we did not anticipate a dog having such an adverse reaction. In the fray of trying to get him to cross, Frankie had come out of his collar, which made matters more tense. Chip and I hopped in the truck to go get another collar, a long lead, and some wet dog food that would hopefully entice Frankie back into his crate, which we finally resolved, was the best way to move him at this point. It was slow going to get him to accept a new collar and lead and even slower going to get him into the crate. He would not eat the wet food, so the idea of luring him was out. Ross and I spent much of the time just sitting with Frankie, waiting for him to calm down, showing him that we were calm and trustworthy, but this did little to help us progress. Finally, our friend Lauren, who had done some work in vet school and worked in a vets office for several years coached us through forcing Frankie into the crate as carefully and gently as possible. We latched two leads to Frankie’s collar so that he could only move forwards and backwards and moved the crate to be directly in front of him. Lauren got behind Frankie, pushing his bum with the side of her foot and gently lowering his head into the crate. Slowly. One. Foot. At. A. Time. He was in. Sweet, sweet relief. We got him. He was safe. Stressed, to be sure, but safe.

The whole process, start to finish, lasted from 2:00pm to 7:00pm. When we got Frankie back up to the barn and settled, Ross bent over and nearly vomited from stress. I gave Lauren a huge hug. I don’t know if we could have do it without her help. Afterwards, as I sat there and blamed myself for the mistakes I had made in assuming Frankie would not jump out of his pen and in accepting a dog before our fences were ready, Lauren very kindly and wisely pointed out that this process probably helped Frankie to bond with us, especially Ross. Lauren said she did not think Frankie associated the stress of the afternoon with us. Rather, we were the ones who were with him during a difficult time. I noticed at one point, when we were trying to get Frankie to move in the direction of the crate without a lead, that he walked when Ross walked, and he looked back at Ross every time something changed, as if to ask “is this alright?” It was amazing to see.

What was even more amazing were my wonderful friends and neighbors who helped get Frankie back. Our neighbor, Fuller, without missing a beat, jumped into his truck with Ross to go looking through the pastures. Chip and our neighbor Sarah immediately went hunting for Frankie, offered help and suggestions and stuck with us to the very end. Carter and Laura stayed with the chicken house and kept framing while the search and rescue team went out, erecting the back wall entirely on their own; and our dear Lauren, without whom we would probably still be out there, trying to coax Frankie into his crate. Living out here, doing farm work, I am continually amazed by the generosity and fortitude of the people around me. This kind of thing is the stuff that community is made of. I am so, so grateful.

Frankie is currently doing well. He’s out of his pen and with the borrowed sheep. Already he is exhibiting protective behaviors with them, keeping them where they belong, watching them, looking up at any sound or disturbance. He’s a wonderful dog. We really got a sense of his character and demeanor on Saturday. The characteristic calmness of Maremmas shone clearly. Frankie could have freaked out with us so many times, but he didn’t. In all his stress, he remained quite calm and even submissive at times. He is eating heartily now and enjoying firm butt scratches from us. Now that he’s had almost a week to adjust, we are going to begin the real work of training him to us and to our farm. We’ll keep you posted.

what cheese am I eating no. 6

Back in November, I had the pleasure of attending a brief talk at the Great Lakes Dairy Sheep Symposium from Carol Delaney of UVM who spent a good bit of time in Sardinia, learning about their cheesemaking practices. She came back with slides and stories, mostly about the manufacture of Pecorino Sardo, or Sardinian Pecorino. Sardinia, though a part of unified Italy, like all the Italian regions, has its own particular culture that it zealously protects. Indeed, you would be remiss if you were to lump Sardinia, or Tuscany, or Umbria into the broad category being merely “Italian”. Pecorino, as a general term, is a hard, aged, sheep’s milk cheese (pecora means sheep, or hoofed ruminant in Italian). You are probably familiar with the well-known Pecorino Romano cheese, or Roman Pecorino. The region Lazio, where Pecorino Romano is made, lies in the central western coast of the peninsula and has its own terroir that is different from that of the island of Sardinia, about 125 miles to its west. In general, Sardinia is much drier and hotter than Lazio, yielding different conditions for the grass, the sheep, and the aging process of their version of Pecorino. According to Ms. Delaney, it is quite difficult to get hold of true Pecorino Sardo. The Sardinians covet it and keep it mostly for themselves.

During the talk, I was excited most by the slides of the Sardinian cheesemakers burying their Pecorino Sardo in hot ashes to produce Fiore Sardo. Now, I’m not generally a big fan of smoked cheeses. Usually the smoked flavor becomes a mask that overwhelms the flavor of the cheese itself; all you taste is smoke. But as a sometime potter, this slide reminded me so much of the process of ash firing ceramics that I had to try a cheese that was made using the same technique. So, you can imagine that when it finally came in at the cheesemonger, I was very excited to see it.

If you’re going to have a smoked cheese, this is the one to try. The taste of smoke is clearly present, but truly enhances the overall flavor of the cheese, punching out its earthy tang. When I taste it I get lots of roasted sweet aromatics like caramelized onion. It also has a garlic-like piquantness that mingles with the lactic flavors really nicely. And of course, the smokey complexity of the cheese yields a strong sense of umami. The rind is especially interesting. It tastes like a garden store or nursery: loads of soil, greenery, and fertilizer aromas. Overall, as a fine D.O.P. cheese, I give it a 3.

what cheese am I eating now no. 5

Sorry for the absence of fresh cheese posts over the past few weeks. I’ve be so busy with the farm and life and everything else that I have not stopped by the cheesemonger in far too long. But yesterday I made up for the lack, picking up four new cheeses. I will post about each in turn, beginning with Moses Sleeper.

Holy frijoles. This is a good cheese. Really, really good. For those folks out there who enjoy Green Hill from Sweetgrass Dairy, think of that cheese on steroids. It has a seriously creamy, filling mouthfeel without being goupy. It has a very thick consistency, like custard, only quite sticky. The rind is soft and flavorful, not chewy, ammoniated, or bitter in the least. The rind just melts in with the rest of the cheese in the mouth. The flavors are delicate and yet distinctly complex: hard to pin down into distinct categories and yet satisfying and pleasing: sweet and lactic with melted butter, maybe even a hint of white chocolate mingled with a cashew-like meaty, umami flavor would be my best stab at describing it. I’ve got to give it a 6. I ate the little wedge at one sitting and I’ve sent Ross to the cheesemonger this week to come home with a whole wheel both for me and to share. I had tried Moses Sleeper before several months ago, but it had so many off flavors that, being a cheese from Jasper Hill, I knew clearly that it been damaged in shipping.

Jasper Hill. Let me say a few words about who they are and what they are up to. The farm and creamery are owned by two brothers, Mateo and Andy Kehler and is located in northern Vermont. They make rock-star cheese. Don’t believe me? Do a search for “Constant Bliss.” Chefs like Emeril Lagasse and Martha Stewart advocate for it and use it in their recipes. Not only do they make rock-star cheese, but they are also working hard to renew and regenerate Vermont’s local dairy economy. Specifically, they have created The Cellars at Jasper Hill, a beautiful, huge facility built exclusively for affinage. The cellars are not only where Jasper Hill ages its cheese, but where cheesemakers all over Vermont come to partake of Mateo and Andy’s facility and expertise. When we were last in Vermont, we met a pair of young cheesemakers just starting out. They had a very small facility and could not afford the equipment needed to create a good cheese cave. So, these two women age their cheese at The Cellars. When Ross and I were at VIAC over the summer, we had the oppertunity to meet Mateo and talk with him about the Cellars project. Mateo essentially said that the aging process is one of the most cost-prohibitive aspects of small-scale dairying, especially at start-up. His Cellars support the cheesemaking industry in Vermont by providing a common facility. The fine folks of Cheese By Hand did a wonderful interview with Jasper Hill, where you can learn loads about their awesome work.

Constant Bliss, Jasper Hill’s most well-know cheese, just got a huge makeover in that Mateo has started to pasteurize it. It’s a totally different cheese now, and one very much still in progress. The exterior mould is much “fluffier” now and the mouthfeel is out-of-this-world creamy. However, it’s quite bitter at the moment. According to my cheesemonger, Mateo is having a “cheese ninja” from France come help sort out the bitter problem. The in-constance of Constant Bliss is really interesting to me. On the one hand, the goal of a good cheesemaker is to deliver a consistent product. On the other, cheesemakers are artists practicing a craft, working to find the cheese they want to make, and therefore altering make procedures and recipes. Now, there are always variations in hand-made cheese, just like anything else hand-made, but these are variances more than they are changes. However, Constant Bliss has made a series of changes since it was first made, this one being the most dramatic I have seen. Some might react to this process by saying “quit messing with a good thing,” which I can get on board with to a degree, but at the same time, I can’t begrudge a cheesemaker’s desire to edit in pursuit of getting it just right. I look forward to watching the cheeses from Jasper Hill shift. They always start out so strong, it’s amazing to think of how they can and will become even better.

things are easier to destroy than to build

The house on the farm is gone. After word got out that we were planning to demolish it, it was scavenged to its bare bones over the course of a week. Finally, the might and force of a track-hoe dealt it a final blow. Ross and our friend Clay were down in the hay barn cleaning up when they heard a resounding “BOOM” unexpectedly on a Sunday afternoon. Apparently they wanted to get things going before the anticipated snow. I came over with a video recorder:

I was struck, as I videoed the demolition like a tourist, by a sudden and profound sense of responsibility. My choices wiped away someone’s home, and with it, physical manifestations of a memory. Now there is a flat, graded patch of red clay in its place. Despite the consent that comes when a piece of property is bought and sold, I could not help but feel a small pang from the loss, from the gone-ness of the thing. And beyond that feeling came the feeling of responsibility to do right by the place, to build and create something that could justify the destruction occurring before me.

I had always been aware of the responsibilities that come with land-ownership and farming. There is a commitment on a multitude of levels, and for both me and Ross, a profound intention to recreate the land and to assist it to become something better than when we found it. A mere 100 years ago, there was not a tree to be seen where our farm is, in all of Chattahoochee Hill Country. It was all cotton. Everywhere you go, you see ripples in the landscape from trellising and the red clay, indicative of spent soil. All of the dirt that was here was literally spun away into cloth of which there are only scraps left. As I stood and watched this house fall down, I remembered that there is a human element to this responsibility; thoughts, memories, hearts, and minds all needing to be seen, heard, and understood. Mateo Kehler, of Jasper Hill Farm makes some of the best cheeses in this country, if not the world, and he has a proclivity for naming them after the people who were on his farm before him. According to their website:

Constant Bliss [was] a revolutionary war scout killed in Greensboro by native Americans in 1781. He was guarding the Bayley Hazen Military Road with his compatriot Moses Sleeper, who died with him.

Three of Jasper Hill’s cheeses are named, Constant Bliss, Bayley Hazen, and Moses Sleeper. This always struck me as a wonderful naming scheme for cheese, but it never quite consciously occurred to me why. As I watched our neighbor standing and watching, it drove home to me that when you farm, you have to respect the land in and of itself, but you also have to respect its people who have shaped it, for better or for worse, and the memories that hang over it.

These memories have to be respected with the land for a reason that did not fully impress itself upon me until just this past weekend when I was attending the GA Organics Conference. While there, I had the opportunity to go to a screening of the film Dirt: The Movie. The film, as you might imagine, is all about dirt, dirt and the human relationship to it. As I watched footage of farmers running from dust storms in the midwest, or else digging themselves out of the heaps of dried out, worn out topsoil that was forever leaving them, I thought of what it took to build that soil. How many plants and animals lived and died on that land to build up the humus, the fertility, the “black gold” as it was advertised. How many aeons did it take? And then, in the blink of an eye, in a single lifetime: gone. Just gone. I remembered as I watched those scenes my own words as I watched the house disappear into big green dumpsters, I looked over at one of the guys on the demolition crew, smiled, and said, “it’s easier to destroy something than it is to build it, isn’t it?”

A memory is no different from the soil. If abused, neglected, or mistreated, it is lost. It does not ever come back. It takes a lifetime to build, but in a moment, can be gone. I’ve come to understand over the past two weeks, how inexorably linked the land is to ourselves and our histories, the very things that make for a culture.

I think farming, is at its heart, a series of alternating moments of creation and destruction. I remember, several years ago now, standing in a greenhouse, thinning seedlings, killing little plants so that other plants can grow stronger and healthier; and again, this past summer, thinning radishes and carrots, talking with my neighbor as she and I both struggled with killing the little carrots and broccoli’s we had nurtured for weeks so that the strongest ones would be stronger. With animals, the feeling of culling is more intense. We culled our first animal yesterday. One of our chickens had developed a serious infection in both of her feet. Her feet had doubled in size with swelling, and parts were grey-black with necropsy. She was clearly in serious pain. Ross and I were both tempted just to remove her from the rest of the flock, set her down, and let her die, but the cold and the anxiety would only increase her pain. With a flick of her tiny neck she was gone. Weeks and weeks she grew, then, in an instant, she was gone.

Farming is so powerful. The first farmer Ross worked with, saw himself as an agent of destruction, an agent of death, not as some romanticized, pastoral creator and protector of beauty. He was absolutely right to do so. This job and this way of life can be awful. That power to destroy, to end the existence of a thing, is not a responsibility to be taken lightly. But we do it, or I do it, because each choice to end something or not, I think, has to be about the creation of something more beautiful. Any artist will tell you that most art is a series of mistakes and corrections. Lines get culled by other lines or eraser marks or a different color laid over. This process continues until the artist gets to a point of some kind of satisfaction, so that every line, shadow, and color ends up where it belongs. This is farming exactly. You are constantly shaping, reshaping, killing, breeding, altering systems, trying to get things into some kind of shape that makes sense, that works, that tells a story, even. The reason that it is easier to destroy than to build, perhaps, is that building and creating is made up of a series of destructions.

I am realizing the full power of this process, the care one must take in each of those choices. The land, the people, memories, stories, all of it has to be considered. I am beginning to get a taste for what Joel Salatin means when he calls himself a “caretaker of creation.” To be such a thing, you must be many things, you must nurture and protect, but most importantly, you must also be an agent of destruction.

workday 2.27.10

Hey all. We will be having a farm workday from 10:00am-4:00pm this coming Saturday the 27th. We will be building our chicken houses and would love to have help, especially folks with any carpentry or framing skills. So bring some tools (drills, saws, and staple guns will be needed) and we’ll give you a delicious home-made lunch and beer for your troubles. We also guarantee you’ll leave with a sense of good fun, camaraderie, and personal satisfaction.

feeling excited.

We had a great weekend at the farm front. The chicks are entering their early adolescence complete with awkward feathering and distinct lankiness. They are also eating and drinking us out of house and home.

Infrastructure is coming together. Fencing is moving along slowly, but surely. We bought our livestock trailer and our bad-ass tractor, which, after weeks of searching, is a huge relief to have behind us.

We also met with John Harrits, who is working with us to help plan our creamery facilities. John is a godsend. I feel so much more confident because of him; he’s been in the dairy business forever, knows all the tricks of the trade, and has a plethora of good ideas I would have never thought of. I’m working with him to finalize the types of cheese we are going to make so we can plan for equipment. If anyone out there has any requests, now is the time to speak up!

Oh, and our fabulous business cards came in. The good people at Studio On Fire put them together for us, and I couldn’t be happier with them.

Stay tuned. . .

Update: If you want to check out the cards, you can do so at Studio On Fire’s blog: Beast Pieces.

manyfold farm

Here are the first photos taken of the farm since it has passed into our hands to become Manyfold Farm. I was out taking soil samples today in this amazing, balmy January sunshine. Ross worked a bit on the well to install a spigot so we can provide water to our soon-to-be-here chickens. Step by step, we’re moving along. . .

farm faq

Over the past few weeks I’ve been working on a Frequently Asked Questions sheet for the farm that will go on our website. I’d love to get y’all’s input. Do I address all the questions you might ask about the farm? Are the answers sufficient? Have I left anything out that you’re burning to know? Please let us know by leaving a comment. Thanks!

Manyfold Farm FAQ
When are the sheep coming?
Our first sheep are scheduled to come in March of 2010.

When will you have cheese?
If all goes well, we will have our first fresh cheeses by the spring of 2011. Soft aged cheeses will come by the fall of 2012, and hard aged cheeses by winter of 2013. This is totally, and completely subject to change and probably will.

Will you have any goats or cows?
We plan to have a few Nigerian Dwarf goats and a couple of cows or steers. Our main reason for the cows is to assist with pasture management. Cows do a good job maintaining pasture quality and help to break the parasite cycle in sheep. The Nigerian Dwarf goats are just for fun and a bit of fluid goat milk for us on the side.

What about lamb? When will you have some?
We plan to have lamb in the spring and fall of each year. Lamb will be sold directly to individual customers and restauraunts on-the-hoof, primarily, though we are considering selling by the cut if there is enough interest. The earliest we will have lamb will be spring of 2011.

Will you have any other products?
We will have eggs by fall of 2010. We are planning to have pork, chicken, and rabbit within the first five years.

Where will you be selling?
Our plan is to sell both retail and wholesale. Our primary market will be the metro Atlanta area. We plan to have a small store on the farm as well, provided the City allows us. We will branch out to other markets as our business grows. If you are a retail outlet or wholesale distributer that is interested in purchasing local artisan cheese or high-quality pasture-based meats, we’d love know who you are! Drop us a line: info@manyfoldfarm.com

Why did you choose sheep?
Antoine de Saint-Exupery (you know, the guy who wrote The Little Prince) said, “If someone wants a sheep, then that means that he exists.” We agree. There is something about them that just feels good and right. Apart from that, there are 5 other reasons:
1) Sheep’s milk has the highest butterfat per litre content of any ruminant. Therefore, sheep efficiently turn grass into the highest quality of the stuff you need to make cheese with the least amount of waste (whey).
2) Because of the high-quality and rich taste of most sheep cheeses, they fetch the highest prices.
3) Lamb, the natural by-product of dairying, is a delicious, high-value item.
4) Sheep are easier to manage than cattle or goats. Sheep flock well, so they are easy to move. They are very complacent animals, unlike goats. And unlike cattle, if one charges you, you’re going to end up with a broken arm or leg, as opposed to dead.
5) Sheep, because of their small body mass, are very beneficial to pasture under management-intensive systems.

What kinds of sheep do you have?
We are planning to use East Freisians and East Fresian/Gulf Coast Native crosses for our dairy flock. We will also maintain an meat flock of Katahdin sheep while we are developing our dairy genetics.

How do you make cheese?
Cheese is made by carefully controlling the decay and spoilage of milk. It is an ancient process of fermentation, much like that of beer, wine, or pickles, that was used to preserve nutrient rich milk over winter and in lean times. The process involves the removal of water from the milk solids through the use of bacteria and the enzyme chymosin (rennet) which is furthered by a process of stirring, cutting, and pressing. Once the water is removed to an appropriate level, the cheese is aged in order to develop flavor.

I’m so excited! Why does everything seem to take so long?
I know. But patience is everything in farming. When you’re working with nature and natural processes, things take time. In addition, we’ve never built a business before, and so we figure slow and steady wins the race.

I love Gruyere! Will you make Gruyere?
No. Unequivocally no. The French make perfect Gruyere, there is nothing we can do to improve upon it. We won’t make Emmental, either, or Gouda, or Pecorino, or any other cheese you may already know and love. We believe that a cheese directly corresponds to the unique flavors and characteristics of a particular region. We would never presume to re-create the unique environment of the French alps in our cheese. What we will do is work to capture new flavors from a place that has never really seen cheese before: West Central Georgia.

Will you make raw cheese or pasteurized cheese?
Both. If we could only make raw cheese and still be able to sell a wide variety of cheeses, we would. However, due to state law and regulations, many of the cheeses we wish to produce must be pasteurized for legal sale. We believe that raw cheeses are superior in terms of nutrition and taste. We also believe they are perfectly safe to eat if they come from a creamery that is clean, that keeps its animals in excellent health, and that feeds its animals very little if any grain and no silage whatsoever.

Are raw cheeses safe to eat?
There is a great deal of controversy about the safety of raw cheeses in government regulatory agencies. Some cheeses, like fresh cheese and yogurt, must be pasteurized to legally sell. Other cheeses that can be aged past 60 days are considered safe by most state regulations when consumed raw. The logic behind this law is that most dangerous bacteria will either make their presence known or will die off before 60 days elapse. However, this does not necessarily guarantee safety. The bacteria listeria monocytogenes produces a lethal toxin in milk that lingers despite pasteurization and despite the number of days the cheese is aged. Its primary vector is through unprocessed milk that is left for too many days at too high a temperature. Pasteurization may kill the bacteria, but the toxin it produces is still present. Milk can also be contaminated with clostridium botulinum if the animal is fed silage or other fermented feeds. Although, after 60 days, cheese with this contamination will usually explode, so it’s safe to say that it gets noticed. Most other vectors for contamination of milk comes from animals that are unhealthy. The best way to ensure that the cheese you want to eat is safe is to buy from farms that process their milk very soon after it comes from the animal, that has a clean facility, and that keeps its animals in excellent health, feeds little or no grain, and that does not feed its milking animals silage or other fermented feeds.

Why won’t you make “vegetarian cheese”?
Two reasons: taste and ethics. Vegetable-based rennets typically yield a slightly bitter note in cheeses we wish to avoid. Vegetable-based rennets are also something of a misnomer. They are actually derived from a genetically-modified bacteria that produces chymosin (the enzyme in rennet that causes the water to separate from the milk solids and for those solids to gel). Therefore, it’s not really a “vegetable-based” product. We are ethically opposed to the use of GMO’s in foods. There are true vegetable rennets that can be derived from thistle and other plants, but they are not currently legal in the US and typically yield a strongly bitter taste in the finished cheese.

Will you be certified organic? What will you feed your animals?
Probably not. Organic certification is a cumbersome process that we feel is not altogether necessary in order to market our products successfully. We are a grass-based farm, which means that all our animals eat grass and other forages on the land. Some animals, like chickens, require more than what the grass alone can provide, so we supplement them with a certified organic feed. Dairy ewes will probably also receive a small grain supplement at milking that will be certified organic.

Will you be certified humane?
Maybe. We’re learning what goes into this certification. We will, without a doubt be a humane facility to the highest degree, but we’re still learning about the positives and negatives of this certification.

Why do you want to be in farming?
Ha! The answer to this question could go on for pages. It’s something we are constantly surprised by. The short answer is that we have cultivated a love of food and a love of land throughout our lives. We love to work with our bodies and minds together, and we are constantly amazed, in awe, and humbled by nature. It makes us happy and we feel good doing it.

Can I come visit the farm?
Absolutely! Just give us a call or drop us an email. Come spend the day or just an hour, bring a picnic. Better still, come on a volunteer day and help us weed whack, or build a bridge, or clean chicken houses. . .

Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 United States
This work by Rebecca and Ross Williams is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 United States.