I have two pieces of advice for all you blogosphereans out there: 1. Make Goat Cheese!!! 2. Don't attempt to make mozzarella, unless you're looking for a really infuriating project.
Our day of cheese did actually turn out pretty well all around, because the soft, cream cheese-type cheese that resulted from our botched mozzarella attempt was converted expertly by Hilary into a fabulous dip. She roasted some garlic, chopped up some basil, toasted some almonds, and poured a little tomato sauce and evoo onto the somewhat funky stuff, and whipped it all up in the Cuisinart for a scrumptious appetizer, causing me to hold my friend in deep reverence for not the first time in our long friendship.
The goat cheese was a dream from beginning to end, however, and I wasn't too busy struggling with it to take pictures of the very simple process.
1. Pour a gallon, or half a gallon if that's all you've got (or are willing to pay for-- I really need to make some goat-owning friends), into a large pot. Heat the milk to between 190 and 200 degrees F. You will need a thermometer for this, because as the recipe we used told us, "In cheese making, the temperature is up there next to God, so it has to be right!" We also used a bain-marie for this (see my post on corn pudding), so as not to scald it, and to maintain the temp once we reached it.
2. When you get to your desired temp, slowly mix in 1/2 c. (per gallon of milk, so we used 1/4 c.) white vinegar OR lime juice OR lemon juice. Mix very minimally-- just enough to distribute evenly. Watch it curdle!
3. Let the temp get down to 100 degrees F, and you'll probably want to take it out of the bain-marie for this, if you want to accomplish it while you're still young. Add salt to taste, it says, but are we really going to be tasting curdled goats milk? No. Add a little salt, and you can add more later if you need to.
4. When you've gotten her down to 100 degrees, S-L-O-W-L-Y stir the curds until they break up into small, coin-size nugs. We used ultra-pasteurized milk, which really impeded the curdling process. It's not impossible, but it sort of sucked, as you'll read later, so buy un-pasteurized if you can, or pasteurized if you have to. Ultra-pasteurized would be a last resort.
5. Pour the stuff as gently as if it were your first-born over a cheesecloth-lined colander. Our curds were so fine, we had to use a pillow case. Pull the corners of the fabric up so your curds form a little satchel like those on the end of a hobo's stick. Let it hang somewhere inventive (a clothesline? a cabinet directly over the dog bowl, so she can lick up the whey?) for as long as you want. The longer it hangs, the harder the cheese will become. Due, we believe, to our ultra-pasteurized milk, we had to let it strain overnight before we could even hang it. Then we let it hang for a good three hours.
And oh, boy. When we tasted this stuff.... expressions of rapture were plastered on our faces. Gosh, food-writing is hard. How do you describe a perfect-tasting substance? It was so creamy, it resembled creme-fraiche, and the goatiness was very subtle, not stinky at all. Just the slightest hint of barnyard. Dip a handpicked blackberry into the stuff, and you may attain spiritual enlightenment. It was easy and great fun, and I'd recommend it to anyone who likes her some chevre.
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