The Goat of Angora: King of the Mountain

Rich, unctuous, tangy: cheese. It can take so many forms, and yet at its core, cheese has the power to put one into a state of rapture worthy of some of our most potent psychotropics. Not content to experience merely the end product, we recently endeavored to make our own variety of cheese. The end result was a rich but smooth goats milk cheese, laced with garlic and a make-shift Herbes de Provence.

The process is really quite simple. You start with one quart of goats milk, gently simmered until it reaches 180 degrees Fahrenheit.

Once the milk has reached temperature, turn off the heat and add 1/2 cup lemon juice. Let sit for about 15 minutes as the curds magically separate from the whey. Oh my!

After about 15 minutes, pour the slurry into a colander lined with cheese cloth. The whey will drip off, leaving the curds from which the cheese genesis can begin. If you'd like, reserve the whey by placing the colander/cheesecloth combo over a pot. Then, use the whey to whip up some ricotta. I, unfortunately, contaminated the whey with dish soap. My b.

Expectant cheese makers doing work. 

After a good bit of the whey has drained off, cinch the cheese cloth into a ball, tie it off, and hang it over the sink (or your whey pot, if you please).

After about two hours of watching Big Love, return to your ball and become mesmerized by its metamorphisis from humble milk to a subtle chevre.

Ultimately, we mixed this Manna with a mixture of thyme, lavender, basil, garlic, and sea salt. The result was sublime, whether spread on a baguette or dolloped liberally onto some fresh made gnocchi, as we opted to do. The end result was a an intensely creamy but well balanced sauce, perfect to complement the delicate potato dumplings.

This midday feast, made possible by the generosity of my culinarily inclined friends, was a welcome respite from the 2 feet of snow that had bound us to our humble abode.