Cheese!

Our first batch of chevre (technically fromage blanc since I don't have the chevre molds) is hanging to drain, and within the next few hours, we'll be sampling our first goat cheese.

There were a wide range of recipes that varied in complexity for this relatively simple goat cheese.  Some had you use pasteurized goat milk, or pasteurize your raw milk ahead of time, and others called for using the milk "straight from the goat" and not bothering to heat it to the culture temperature, because it was likely at the point already.  Others called for special "chevre" starter that has included rennet, and others had you use a standard mesophilic starter and liquid rennet.  

And all of this suddenly got me to thinking: people have made these "simple" cheeses before online cheese supply shops and detailed instructions.  How did they do it?

For example, I imagine there was a time when heating a cheese to 170 degrees before cooling it down quickly with ice was technologically impossible, not to mention gathering pure starter cultures.  I am enough of a microbiologist to understand the point of culturing "good" bacteria in your cheeses as a method of preservation, but we haven't always had access to these cultures.  So, how did we do it?

I do know that if you want to wildly ferment cheese, the last thing you want to do is heat it to 170 degrees and kill all the organisms in it.  I wonder if pasteurization became important only after we started mixing the milk from hundreds or thousands of animals before sending it to market.  If you just milked your own goat, and you have assessed the health of the animal and cleanliness of the facility, is it really a worry?  Or are their deadly pathogens waiting in every gram of fresh milk, waiting to kill us all.

I don't know the answer, but I do know that the recipe I used was as simple as I could make it.  Fresh milk, lightly warmed, inoculated with factory cultures...

I'd like to see about getting rid of that last part!

The New Arrivals

Just a couple of short days after returning from Seattle, S. and I took the plunge and finally decided to have a kid, and we got her mother in the deal.  Meet Kitty (the Mom) and Cleopatra (Cleo for short) the kid.  They are oberhasli/nubian crosses (hence the bay fur with the airplane ears).

S. and I both have been reading up on goats - how to house them, how to feed them, how to milk them. We visited our vet's barn to see how she does it and got some tips on milking and other issues (she also sold us the goats). However, as we have no real experience with the animals, most of our planning resulted in taking a "wait and see" approach.  We took care of their basic needs by building a milking stand and goat shed (see previous posts) and had a few options for where to pasture them.  Otherwise, we just took the plunge.  We figured "we have horses, so how much different could it be?"

Turns out, pretty different.

E. dropped them off Monday night around milking time to find that S. and I had erected a pretty nice little temporary goat paddock and shed.  The 12'x12' paddock was made of free standing hog panel.  This was certainly not an ideal pen, but we figured it would keep the goats in and the dogs out for the night until we assessed more permanent housing.

E. mentioned that Kitty might "cry a bit" and took off with a wave and a smile.  "Have fun," he said, and walked away with a spring in his step.  He only had six milkers left at the house (down from 10 or 12) so he seemed pretty pleased.  Also a little amused at us.

As soon as E. walked away, Cleo started baying a cute little "Mahhh..." that one expects from a slightly upset goat.  Then Kitty laid in.  Her cry sounded like the below you'd hear from a drunk frat boy yelling at his ex girlfriend's window at 2 AM.  "Brawwww!", "Mehhhhhew!", "Whaaoaoar".  I don't know how else to describe it, except that it was loud, prolonged, and horrible.  Also, since they were housed on the lawn on the south side of the house, her bellow ricocheted off of our house, the neighbor's house, and the ward house across the way.

During the first few minutes, Kitty managed to bend the hog wire out of shape and it became clear that a more permanent situation would not wait until morning.  We took her out to milk, and found that as long as we had both in hand, they were quiet and inquisitive and very easy to manage.  She milked fine, producing about 20 ounces after finally figuring out the new milking stand (turns out, we had it backwards - she is used to being milked from her right side).

After the milking, we brought in the horses and turned the pair out in Maisy's paddock, where the cacophony continued.  And while the volume and frequency stayed about the same, at least we had remedied the echo, a marked improvement!

Before bed, we brought the dogs out (leashed!) to see what they thought of the goats.  Both of them barked and lunged at the goats, but unlike the horses, the goats stood their ground, stomped, and snorted.  In the end, this might make all the difference for Captain, to have an animal that isn't intimidated by all his barking and circling.  We will have to see.

After the dogs, it was off to bed.  I slept fitfully given the dogs barking and Kitty braying, and S. slept not at all, but since that first night Kitty and Cleo have settled a bit, the dogs are getting accustomed to the new arrangement, and we've milked Kitty three times.  So far, so good...

And I am surprised to learn how much different the goats are from our horses.  Where horses are aloof and a bit standoff-ish, the goats are immediately curious and companionable.  If you open a gate, the goats crowd out, then stand next to you or follow you around.  Yesterday, S. and I spent some time in the back pasture with them, sitting on logs and watching them browse in the bushes.  Within a few minutes, Cleo was sitting at S.'s feet, curled into a comfortable ball chewing her cud.  That was completely unexpected.

There are horse people.  Turns out, there may also be goat people.  And I think I'm one of them.

Milking Stand

 Stacy and I finished the milking stand yesterday, in preparation for our two new goats.  
The "table" part of the stand is a piece of furniture we've been carting around for as least as long as I have known Stacy, and Stacy has had it longer than that (so we are talking 25+ years here).  The table came from a barn in New Jersey, reportedly used to kill chickens (we've always just called it "the chicken killing table").  It has be re-purposed as a desk, a kitchen table, a banquet, and an outdoor plant stand.  We have cut down the legs once, added taller legs, and cut them back down again.  Finally, it has found it's new home, not as the "chicken killing table" but the "goat milking stand."   
The remainder of the stand is various other pieces of re-purposed materials.  The front slats are mostly from some bench parts stolen by kids and left in the yard of our last house (we tried to locate the owners, to no avail).  The feed box is from cedar planks left over from the fence we built at the new place.  It really is a "franken-stand", but to me, it looks beautiful.  We didn't even go to Home Depot once, as it was created from materials already on the farm.  
I think I finally know why Stacy dragged the table from New Jersey, and we dragged it from Iowa (after selling nearly all of our other stuff) to Seattle and then back to Utah.  It has finally found it's true purpose.
Now, we are waiting on a phone call from the owner, and then we'll go pick them up.  Waiting is so hard!

Goat House

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Assessment

This morning I had planned on visiting with my old graduate school advisor for one more time before I left.  He is dying of cancer, and I figured it was probably my last time to see him.

Earlier, his wife called to tell me that he isn't feeling well and needed to cancel the visit.  She went on to say that he really enjoyed our last visit, and left me with the impression there would likely be no opportunity to reschedule.

Which means our last visit was probably our last.  I hope that isn't the case, but I suppose in reality that is always a possibility, with anything and everything.

With that in mind, since I am leaving Seattle the day after tomorrow, I thought I would make a list of my accomplishments and lessons learned while here, both personal and professional.  Since this could very well be the last time I ever come here, I am pleased that I seemed to have made the most of it.  In no particular order, and cognizant that I am missing some things:

• Met with VPL colleagues and outlined a research agenda.
• Spent over an hour visiting with my graduate advisor in his Lake Washington home, probably for the last time.
• Spent time with T. kayaking around Lake Union and Lake Washington
• Visited with C&T (and little D!) many, but not enough, times.
• Vacationed with S. at the Mother Earth News fair.
• Had lunch at the Crab Pot with S.
• Took a rowboat out on Lake Union.
• Walked to Pike Place Market nearly every day, sometimes twice per day.
• Walked a lot (to UW, back from UW, to Pike Place, waterfront, etc).  Conservatively, I've clocked at least 60 miles since I've been here.
• Took a ferry ride.  Might take another one.
• Saw Wendell Berry at Benaroya Hall.
• Had Pizza Lunch with UW folks, and caught up with some old friends.
• Went to the Experience Music Project twice (once alone and another time with my sister).
• Hung out all day at the Folk Life Festival.
• Ate at the Sound View Cafe (twice!).
• Visited Pioneer Square and the International District with S.
• Got a massage (twice!).
• Ate mini-donuts (more than twice!).

Lessons Learned:

1. I've been reminded of the benefits and liabilities of working at a research university.
2. After seeing the level of activism in the city regarding lifestyle changes and the focus on the environment, I am encouraged about the direction we're heading.
3. After living with a perpetually sore neck and jaw (stress), I have learned the value of a good massage.  I'm also learning how to take better care of myself.
4. Given access to plentiful good food and relatively cheap beer and cocktails, I tend to indulge too much in both (erp).  Looking forward to more work back on the farm!
5. I've been deeply reminded of how much Utah is my home, and that I have developed a very strong sense of place there.
6. I've learned how lucky I am to have the neighbors we have.
7. I've learned how lucky I am to have the colleagues I have.
8. Finally, I've become keenly aware of how important our move the farm has been.  I am looking forward to getting back and getting busy.

So, that's the list for the first month of sabbatical in Seattle.  Not too bad, and since sabbatical officially starts on July 1, I'm already ahead of the game.

On Thursday, I'm off to Saint Louis for the Council on Undergraduate Research Business Meeting and then back home.  And then the real work begins.

Turn-around tourism

During my last week or so here in Seattle, I've been walking the waterfront and through the Market every day, because, for some reason, I just can't get enough of it.  The mixture of Pike Place's working waterfront and cheeky tourist stop just thrills me.  If you sit at the bar a Lowell's, you'll see fresh-off-the-boat fisherman sitting next to coiffed socialites.  Quite the contrast.

And, largely, the Market is unchanged since I first came to Seattle 27 years ago.  It seems that the hard-won vendors slots at the Market encourage the younger generation to continue the tradition, since many of these are the same businesses yet with decidedly younger purveyors.

Some things have changed, at the Market and in and around Seattle.  S. and I found to our utter dismay that Elliott Bay Book Company is no longer in Elliott Bay.  It isn't out of business, just moved to Capitol Hill.  But what is Pioneer Square without EBC?  Even my other Pioneer Square favorite, Metzger's Maps, moved - in this case, up to Pike Place.  The move seems to have erased a lot of their inventory of true collector maps, and most of the store caters to tourists with travel books and maps and the like.  Still a fun store to poke around in, and arguably more useful to both the actual traveller and the armchair variety.  But I do miss the quirky, sometimes dusty memories I have from the old place.  The new place is a little like going into Idaho Book and Supply back home.  Which actually says a lot for Idaho Book and Supply.  I'll have to go there more often!

I did find an intriguing book in Metzger's called "101 Things You Gotta See Before You're 12" and I thought "Oh no, another impossible list of travel adventures I'll never get around to...this one with a deadline!"  What a horrible thing to do to a kid.  Especially if the kid reading it just passed 12 (or is almost 40).  What if they didn't get to everything?

When I opened the book, though, it was filled with things like "visit a quality second hand store", "go to a petting zoo", "visit your parent's home town", "go to an art gallery", etc.  In fact, I am sure a motivated kid could probably complete 99% of the items in the book without ever leaving their home town except to hit "a national park", "a gateway to the new world", and things of that nature.  I was even more excited to say that I have, in fact, done all 101 "Things You Gotta See Before You're 12" and I am pretty sure I got them done all before I finished my 12th year, picking up the last few during that first visit to Seattle 27 years ago.

But now I have a new goal: I have not completed all 101 "Things You Gotta See Before You're 12" in Ogden, UT.  And, given I'm just starting my sabbatical year, I might just be able to pull it off.

I'll tick off a few of the more difficult ones, like "see an ocean" while I am here, and then get the rest after I get home.

And since the book even comes with stickers, I am motivated.

What do we have on the ship that's good?

After nearly a week immersed in Wendell Berry and discussions with my colleagues about the state of the world, I am starting to get fatigued with a steady diet of doom and gloom.  At least my friend T. has a sense of humor, though an admittedly dark one: he calculated that with a 2.3% growth rate in energy usage, we have 1100 years before the surface of Earth gets as hot as the surface of the Sun.  Gotta love that exponential.

Still, it gets me thinking that I need some carrots to go with my stick.  I've seen all the data, I understand the projections, and I know everything is going to hell in a hand basket.  The climate is shifting, we are running out of oil, the population is exploding, people can't get enough food and water, wars, famine, disease, death.  And we had better do something about it, or else.

Faced with all of this, I am reminded of the quote from Gene Kranz when faced with the disaster of Apollo 13: "What do have on the ship that's good".

Some things I have noticed here in Seattle:

1. Dozens and dozens of people on their bicycles, rain or shine.  The density of riders is not as high as other cities, like Bejing or Amsterdam, but it is high enough that nearly all the streets have bike lanes and road signs (with mileage!) for the riders.
2. Mass transit is packed, and I have been having a relatively easy time of getting from A to B (though UTA still trumps KC Metro for service, go Utah!)
3. Pike Place Market has booths from local farms.
4. Nearly every neighborhood has a year-round farmers' market.
5. My friends don't think we are crazy, and want to get a few chickens at their house (and damn the covenant!)

Compared to the Seattle we left eight years ago, things have really changed.

With so many positive changes, I thought I would spend some time reading about the future as we want it to be, rather than as we fear it to be.  I did a web search, and found this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0USn7eufXps

And, surprisingly, that seems to be as good as it gets.

So, perhaps it is time to invent something that isn't already on the Internet?  Where is S. when you need her?