Billy Goats Gruff

Hello patient readers,
As usual, I am late posting this update, but why break with tradition now. Over Easter break, I went back to the goat farm to spend my vacation week hanging with the goats, making cheese and helping out around the farm during the spring rush. My friend Brenna came for the first couple days, and her presence (and amazement at certain of the farm rituals) reminded me just how singular a place it is.
(Check a few photos here.)

To describe it would make it sound very hippie and slightly ridiculous, which it may be. The ingredients are all there: herd of organic goats and sheep, shaggy old man who doesn't cut his beard or wear shoes, a trailer parked in a field with its outside painted with a flowery mural, an 900lb pig who grew so large when the family couldn't bring themselves to butcher him, a yurt, any number of people sleeping in, on, under, and around the house. They don't have heating in their house, other than the stove, but this trip I knew that in advance and so I was warm in cozy in my multiple layers and sleeping bag. (Brenna borrowed Angela's German one, called the Schlafsack, which is probably the most awesome thing I have ever heard of.) Either way, I love it there, and it was a perfect vacation.

Each day started with some tea and bread in the kitchen that is the center of the farm universe. Then we would go down and feed and milk the goats. It was pretty hard at first, and very tiring for hands unused to such exercise, but I made much progress as the days went on. If the goats thought you were nervous or didn't know what you were doing, they would jump around and try to kick the bucket and it would be impossible to milk them, so you couldn't hesitate. One of the goats was very naughty and we would fight over who had to milk her.

Then we took the buckets of milk to the fromagerie, where we filtered it, added cultures and some of the previous day's whey, and put it in a small warm room to sit for 24-36 hours. Then we would tend to the other cheeses, turning them, salting the newer ones, removing the newest ones from their molds and putting them on wire grills to dry. The cheeses all start about the size of a half pound burger on their second day of life, then shrink. After about a month, they dry to about the size of two Oreo cookies. You can eat it at any phase, so in the markets here they ask you how you like your cheese when you buy it. When very fresh (a couple days old), it is tangy tasting and barely stays in its shape, sort of like Boursin cheese. Demisec (halfdry, about two weeks later) is my favorite, it has developed a skin distinct from the inside, and a creamy layer right underneath the skin. It is the consistency of a Brie. Then, wait a few more weeks, and you have a hard cheese, very rich tasting. I had no idea it was so easy to make cheese. The conditions must be right, which is the hardest part, in terms of monitoring humidity and temperature, but mostly it is a matter of time. Needless to say, I was in heaven. I ate a lot of goat cheese: the classic after dinner with bread, on pizza, in pasta, and the day after it was made as a goat cheese yogurt. Delicious.

After that part of the day, it is about 9:30 and you have to sort of invent your own tasks to some extent. Every day was different. I did a lot of cleaning around the house and barn, helped make some raspberry jam, and helped their son Béranger. He is a vegetable farmer, which seems to me much more labor intensive than raising animals. He rents his land, so he has to be very productive to make a profit. I helped him dig furrows for asparagus. Thursday and Friday were bread days, so I got to help. Sounds bucolic, to make bread for market, but kneading 40+ pounds of dough for 25 minutes is hard work. Taking the bread out of the ovens is incredibly hot and you have to move fast to keep up, but it was very exciting, and the fresh bread was beyond compare.

In the afternoons, I would often take the goats out to pasture, where they would graze for about three hours eating whatever interested them on the ground. They are sort of like dogs, they will come up to you and nuzzle you with their horns and want to be pet. Sadly, this was not a good year for the herd. They were struck with some mysterious malady that caused 10+ deaths, and over 14 miscarriages this spring. The vets ran many tests, but couldn't find the problem, and Dédé is clearly very upset and worried about his animals. It also is worrying because it means much less milk (and thus cheese, and thus money for the family). Things seemed to be getting better while I was there, and there were two goats who were still pregnant, due to deliver soon. I don't have more news on how they are doing, but I hope those babies were born alive, unlike the rest this year. (So far, only one baby has survived this year.)

So the farm was wonderful, despite some goat health concerns. It was lovely to be in the countryside, and to help make my own food, and to learn much more about farms, French farm vocabulary, and cheesemaking. I am hoping to visit more farms this summer, and I strongly encourage any and all to WOOF whenever possible!