Tasting the Heart, Soul and Soil of Hudson Valley Cheese

Can a taste of artisanal cheese transport you to the place where it was produced?  What can you learn about a cheese maker from a style of cheese, the way the animals are tended or the types of ingredients used?

A while back, I had the chance to visit several Hudson Valley cheese makers and explore the idea of “terroir.”  Loosely translated as "taste of the soil," the word refers to the “sense of place” one might taste in a wine produced in a distinct location, and the concept of terroir is becoming more prevalent in conversations about farmstead cheese.  I found cheese makers more than willing to discuss the merits of cheese and terroir and passionate about their role in defining the character of small-batch cheese in the Hudson Valley.  

Rory Chase and Peter Destler, the founders of The Amazing Real Live Food Co. in Pine Plains, New York founded their creamery on a commitment to serve delicious, restorative “vittles” for their friends and neighbors in the Hudson Valley.  They source their milk from 50 registered Holstein cows that graze in rolling pastures reminiscent of a Norman Rockwell illustration. 

Rory and Peter are clearly dedicated to their mission and their French-style artisanal and probiotic cheeses delight the senses.  

Rory becomes visibly animated as he inhales the “mushroomy” aromas in their aging room, and offers me delicious samples of fresh and aged cheeses.  

Joyce Henion – owner of Acorn Hill Farm in Walker Valley, New York – produces fresh, clean-tasting goat cheeses in the former garage of her split-level home, which she converted into a fully equipped creamery.  

Joyce’s fascination with Nubian goats inspired her vocation as a cheese maker.  

Acorn Hill Farm is a very different locale.  Joyce’s goats browse a wooded area of rocky terrain.  She manages the herd organically and knows each goat by name.  

If you taste the cheese of Rory and Peter or Joyce, you will savor two very different stories, but both are characteristic of the vital cheese making community in the Hudson Valley.  Read more about cheese terroir in my story “A Sense of Place” published in the Spring 2012 “Bread and Cheese” issue of the magazine, Edible Hudson Valley.   

©2012 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved   

Catapano Dairy: Commitment and Care Yield Award-Winning Goat Cheese

A seasonal spread featuring farmstead chevre goat cheese - flavored with lavender and honey - from Catapano Dairy Farm in Peconic, Long Island.

It is the unofficial start of the summer season. I celebrate the glorious weather by dining outside with a delectable spread of fruit, honey, nuts, Long Island wine and goat cheese flavored with a hint of lavender and honey from Catapano Dairy Farm in Peconic, Long Island.

The fresh chevre cheese is alabaster white and decadently creamy. I spread it thick on slices of fragrant golden semolina bread with rosemary from Junda’s Pastry, Crust & Crumbs in Jamesport. The cheese is velvety smooth, with a seductive, rich mouth feel. It tastes bright, tart and sweet like country-fresh cream at dawn.

For this moment of edible bliss, Karen and Michael Catapano have labored 365 days a year.

Catapano Dairy sits on the North Road in Peconic, New York, in the heart of Long Island wine country.

Catapano Dairy Farm has the distinction of being the only goat dairy on the North Fork of Long Island, and one of only two dairies producing farmstead cheese on the East End. One might actually miss the entrance sign, set beneath several large shade trees on the North Road, and nestled amidst a burgeoning wine industry. But, that would mean missing a chance to sample extraordinary goat cheese twice-honored with the highest award given by the American Cheese Society. When you talk with Karen Catapano, you appreciate that there is nothing effortless about creating award-winning artisanal cheese. It is a year-round effort.

Assortment of fresh farmstead goat cheese from Catapano Dairy Farm.

Karen is tall and slender with auburn hair. We sit down to talk in the midday sun at a café table adjacent to the animal pens. An occasional “Baaahh” floats musically through the air. Nearby is a small shop, painted robin’s egg blue, where the couple sells fresh goat cheese and premium soap made from goat milk. Shortly into our conversation, I am reminded that an artisanal cheese enterprise is also an animal husbandry operation, and quite labor intensive. When the couple purchased an existing dairy with 18 goats in Mattituck, Long Island in 2003, they discovered that the bucolic dream of dairy ownership and the intensive upkeep were often in conflict.

“We were like normal people with regular jobs and it just seemed like a totally great lifestyle,” Karen recalls. “We bought this cute little idea of a farm and really had to redo the entire thing.”

Both were healthcare professionals, Karen a nurse and Michael a physician. Their personal interests seemed perfect for the venture. Michael had dabbled in cheese making and Karen was breeding dogs and cats. So they enrolled in cheese making and animal husbandry classes at a farm in upstate New York. Every day was a learning process.

“Our first year was total chaos.” Karen says. “I actually thought I could still work as a nurse a little bit and kind of take care of the goats on the weekend. It was really wild. But we got through it.”

Karen Catapano with the goats at Catapano Dairy Farm.

The investment of time and effort paid off. “We were working 24/7 to get it going and then the second year, we did very well. Everybody knew us,” she says. But, they were constantly adapting the existing dairy to new demands.

“It’s such a totally encompassing business and there are so many facets to it,” reflects Karen. “If I was to do it now, I would do it completely different. I would start with the best of everything, like we have now.”

In 2005 when Michael entered Catapano Dairy Farm Chevre in the American Cheese Society annual competition and won first prize for best goat cheese in the USA, the couple once again needed to reconsider their approach to the business. Success required further investment and expansion.

“We were so happy but we were so not prepared for it,” says Karen. “Now all these droves of people from New York City were coming out. At 2 o’clock on Saturday, I’d be totally out of cheese. We put all our efforts into finding a new property. Either that, or we’d have to give it up.”

They established the current dairy in Peconic in 2006 and are now beginning their fourth season on the property. Large roaming pens are home to 96 goats including Saanen and Alpine breeds. Gentle kids with pristine white coats welcome visitors at the fence line. There is a state-of-the-art dairy kitchen on the premises.

Catapano Dairy Farm is home to 96 goats and a state-of-the-art dairy kitchen.

“There is no other place like this, because of the uniqueness of being on the North Fork, and in a lot of ways, we did it at the right time, because now goat cheese is really cool,” says Karen.

How does Catapano Dairy achieve its luscious, award-winning flavor? “The food is of paramount importance,” says Karen. “I think that’s why we won, because we feed the goats so carefully.” Similar to other aspects of the operation, they found the right nutritional balance with some experimentation.

“The feed is not only important for the taste of the cheese, it’s important for the health of the goat and the whole backside of it that people don’t see,” she explains. “I actually hired a goat nutritionist, and she came and did a whole protein analysis of the hay and matched the grains accordingly and added the vitamins in for me.”

The herd of goats at Catapano Dairy Farm includes white Saanen and Alpine breeds.

Of course, the skill of the cheese maker is a significant factor in the flavor. Michael Catapano maintains a medical practice to support the farm, and creates the award-winning cheeses. His “Peconic Mist” blue cheese was awarded first place in the American Cheese Society’s 2008 competition. He is constantly testing new recipes.

“He is never bored,” says Karen. “He has everything written down, and he loves his variables. It’s like a big chemistry experiment for him. This is his passion.”

Their favorite cheese recipe has yet to be sold. Michael has been experimenting and has produced seven huge wheels of an Italian-style Parmigiano-Reggiano.

“It’s to die for, but he’s not had the time and we haven’t had the surplus of milk to make it,” says Karen. “I think this new cheese is probably going to be our favorite.”

During the winter months, the couple tends to repairs, and Karen is kept busy with “kidding season” in early spring. She also produces a line of handcrafted soap and skin care products called “The Delicate Doe.” Goat milk is rich in proteins and naturally occurring fats which makes it an excellent moisturizer.

Their reputation continues to grow. Catapano Cheese is offered as a cheese share at the Sang Lee Organic Farm and will be sold this summer at a regional food market just opened at the South Street Seaport in New York City. North Fork restaurants offer the cheese on their menus and one even features a Catapano Burger. Karen and Michael Catapano have earned their place in the agricultural fabric of Long Island’s North Fork.

Pristine white Catapano goats greet visitors.

“When you see our cheese, I think that you think of Catapano Dairy Farm, a small goat dairy in the heart of wine country,” says Karen. “That’s really what we are.”

Catapano Dairy Farm is located at 33705 North Road (Route 48), Peconic, NY, 11958.

©2009 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

Vermont Gold

The town of Grafton, Vermont has been called one of the ten most picturesque spots in America. During the autumn foliage season, the views along the historic Main Street are burnished gold. Grafton is a quintessential New England village, the type that only seems to exist in a Currier & Ives print. There is a pointed white church steeple, a country store, a history museum and the Old Tavern Inn, which was built in 1801 and where charming wicker rockers are artfully placed along a rambling front porch.

Another kind of gold can be found in the nearby pastures – “Grafton Gold,” the three-year-old, extra-aged cheddar of the Grafton Village Cheese Company.

Grafton, Vermont is dedicated to tradition, and a simpler way of life, and cheese making is part of that tradition. The Grafton Cheese Cooperative was established in 1892 so that local dairy farmers could turn surplus milk into cheese. The cooperative was destroyed by fire in 1912, but re-opened by the not-for-profit Windham Foundation in 1964. There is much to learn here about the techniques employed to create world-class cheddar.

We enter the immaculate white clapboard structure, just outside the village, where cheese making has been underway since dawn. While parts of the process have been updated, Grafton Village Cheese still uses methods that originated in the 1800s. Long rectangular stainless steel vats are filled with pale, spongy slabs of bonded curds. Two men in crisp white uniforms will turn the slabs by hand. This process is called “cheddaring.” One man moves down along the vat and feeds each slab into a milling machine that shreds it into dozens of squiggly fingers that tumble into the vat. Another man tosses fists full of salt onto the shreds and a large automatic mixer crawls through the curds, turning the mixture over numerous times. Eventually, the other man takes the curds by the handful and packs them into 60-pound size metal boxes, pressing the mixture in carefully and closing the lid. The boxes will be placed under pressure for 14 to 16 hours to squeeze out as much moisture as possible.

In the tasting room and retail shop, Wendy Brewer, the marketing director, willingly answers my barrage of questions while I indulge in a progressive sampling of classic cheddar aged one, two, three and four years. The longer the cheese ages, the sharper it becomes and I tremble with pleasure as a chunk of four-year-old cheddar explodes in my mouth. It is vividly tangy, buttery and nutty all at once.

Wendy explains that the cheese making technique for cheddar is designed to squeeze out as much moisture as possible. This will deliver the dense, crumbly cheddar texture. Grafton maintains high standards for the milk used, which is locally sourced from Jersey cows on 38 farms.

“We’re doing our part for family farms,” says Wendy. She explains that Jersey cows produce premium milk with high protein and high butterfat, ideal for “Grafton Gold” and the company’s wide selection of award-winning cheddars. Demand for Grafton cheddar continues to increase nationwide and the company plans to open a second production facility in Brattleboro, Vermont. Clearly, I am the ideal customer for Grafton. I like modern and I like classic, so I purchase 1-year, 2-year, 3-year and 4-year cheddar. 2003 was a very good year, after all. I also pick up a recipe for Grafton Cheddar Cheese Soup, one of their collection of signature cheese dishes.

Later, in the emerald pastures behind Grafton Village Cheese Company, we strike up a friendship with a couple of “Grafton Girls” – a pair of fetching, honey-brown Jersey cows ready and willing to do their part for “Grafton Gold.”

©2007 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

Oh My Gouda!

If you travel west on Route 11 -- just past the town center of Londonderry, Vermont -- a battered green farm truck is tucked into the pasture that creeps up to the southern side of the road. Atop the truck cabin roof is a sign, hand painted in red block letters with an arrow that reads “Vermont Cheeses.”

We turn right and climb the dirt road to Taylor Farm. At the top of a small hill is a rustic, fire-engine red cheese house and shop. On the hill beyond, we can see the shiny apparatus of a working dairy. A woman with a kind smile, wearing layers of flannel, strolls down the hill to greet us and takes us into the shop.

The woman is Mimi Wright, sister to Taylor Farm’s cheese master, Jon Wright. Taylor Farms produces award-winning Gouda cheese from raw cows’ milk, totaling 70,000 pounds annually.

“Why, Gouda cheese?” I ask Mimi as she invites us to sample cubes of traditional Gouda and maple smoked Gouda.

She tells us, “That’s what worked,” and that few dairies in Vermont were producing Gouda cheese, so therein was the opportunity. And, as Taylor Farm keeps a herd of 55 Holstein and Jersey cows, it made good sense, since the Holstein breed originated in the Netherlands where Gouda was perfected.

Using toothpicks, we pierce several cubes from the tall mound of traditional Gouda. It is a sunny golden color and tastes rich, tangy and creamy. The maple smoked Gouda is buttery, smoky and sweet and was awarded 1st Place by the American Cheese Society.

There is a window that separates the cheese house from the retail shop. Mimi points out the brine bath and I can see stacks of traditional Gouda sealed in bright red wax and wedges of maple smoked Gouda sealed in chocolate-brown wax, aging to perfection.

Vermont farmers have produced cheese since the 1800s. Taylor Farm is a member of the Vermont Cheese Council. Three-dozen cheese makers produce more than 100 varieties of small-batch artisinal cheeses. Jon Wright has produced his award-winning Gouda for eight years. Mimi prepares all the baked goods for the shop and we purchase a crusty loaf of her oat bread made with curds and whey from the dairy and sweetened with honey. Mimi also sells brilliant earth-colored yarns made from the wool of sheep on the farm, poetically labeled “Yarns from the Hills.”

We have purchased as much cheese and bread as we can carry when cheese master Jon Wright enters the shop. He is dressed in a well-worn navy blue sweatshirt, jeans and work boots, and there are splashes of mud on his cuffs. He has rugged features, a lined face and a warm smile. I ask him how he got into cheese making.

“I tell people we started out of desperation,” he laughs. “Dairy farmers gone awry.”

While most of the money made from farms in the state of Vermont has typically come from dairy products, that percentage has been decreasing as the price of land becomes more expensive. Farmers sometimes have to take second jobs to make ends meet.

“We were looking for ways to add value to our milk,” Jon explains. They were able to expand the operation for a small capital investment. The dividends have been clear. There are magazine articles mounted on the walls, praising the quality of the cheese from Taylor Farm.

Jon Wright is one of a new generation of food artisans, and the joy he takes from his work is evident. He is physically and emotionally connected to the land, and the agricultural products he produces.

“The cows are my life,” he says. “I love them.”

©2007 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

The Master of Parmigiano-Reggiano

Wednesday Morning, September 6, 2006 – We are greeted at the door of the production factory by a tall, friendly Italian gentleman with dark hair, chiseled features and taut muscles. He bears a striking resemblance to a stone statue of a Roman deity one might find in a piazza. He is, in fact a deity of the land. He is the cheese master at a Parmigiano-Reggiano production center, a short drive from Bologna.

Dressed in a long, plastic white apron, he offers a welcoming handshake and ushers us into the production center. Much like the seven labors of Hercules, the Master of Parmigiano-Reggiano must endure multiple labors to produce a cheese that meets the rigorous standards of the agricultural region. Inside the tiled production facility it is moist and humid. Using a process that began hundreds of years ago, the staff brings in the morning and evening milk from the cows, which is then heated. Massive copper vats are filled with the hot, milky brew and the cheese master and his assistants work rapidly, dragging large sheets of white muslin through the soup collecting the pale white solids that have accumulated in the tanks. At this point, the curds are flavorless. The cheese master then presses the solids firmly into round plastic molds which are left to dry for several days.

The large disks of cheese are cured for many days in a vat of salt water, about the size of a basketball court. A large mechanical system of hooks and open shelving is used to submerge the cheese in the salt water baths.

The cheese is stamped with a unique serial number and date, stored, and over time the rind begins to take on its distinctive copper patina. We are allowed a glimpse in the warehouse where hundreds and hundreds of rounds of cheese are stacked floor to ceiling and for months will age and season to perfect ripeness.

A staff member pulls a hefty round of cheese from the shelf and slices open the disk with a knife that looks like a large surgical tool. The deep amber rind is pulled away and we get our first look at the result of the cheese master’s labors. Inside, the cheese is wheat colored with a soft, quartz-like texture. We pull off large chunks from the wheel by hand, and take a bite. The Parmigiano-Reggiano pops on the tongue and offers many dimensions. It is sometimes crunchy then smooth. Creamy and then salty. There are dry mineral undertones and flavors of toasted bread. And, it is fresher than anything of its kind I’ve ever sampled at home. It is certainly the food of gods and a Herculean effort from the Master of Parmigiano-Reggiano.

© 2006 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved