I think I posted on this subject before, but after three years of making cheese at home I think my perspective has changed on why I do it. At first it was about I can make this cheaper and better than the plastic wrap varieties that I had bought in the store, now it is something different. Making cheese makes me happy. While that sounds corny it is true, it does make me happy.
I have always loved cheese! Well most cheeses, I am still looking for that little blue that will turn my head. I love the taste, the texture of the cheese and the smell of cheese. Being able to create something that I can call my own is a great feeling, it ranks up there, but not above, the birth of my children and the day I married my lovely, understanding, cheese liking but not loving, wife. To me it is that special.
I can still remember the attempt to make Ricotta with red wine vinegar and the “rubber puck” I made, it still did not deter me. The first time I made Gouda, by the way jumping from Ricotta to Gouda not my best move, and I used the whole package of starter culture, enough to use in 1000 litres of milk in eight litres. Still I would carry on and move onto the Gouda that crumbled in the brine and was pretty much inedible, to the twelve attempts at mozzarella and the two times it turned out. Now I take my time, research my recipes and have patience with the results.
I stated before Cheese Making makes me happy, at peace and contrary to what it looks like during a make; a sense of calm. As I prepare for the planning meeting for Cheesepalooza, I have been doing some reflecting and re-assessing and realize that it is time to stop the mad scientist cheese experiments and get back to basics for a while. I wonder how long this will last, hopefully until the end of Cheesepalooza, but who knows I may have to syphon off some curd for a mystery cheese or two.
If life gives you shattered curd, make cheese spread.