There is absolutely nothing better in
life than basking in the glow of accomplishment. And if that accomplishment is
homemade cheese, you will not only feel like a more superior Laura Ingalls
Wilder, you will have a delicious product to eat for the next four days. (If it
lasts that long, because I nearly ate the whole ball tonight.)
You may have already noticed this, but I
love cheese. But I love REAL cheese. Not pre-sliced, cardboard substitutes for
cheese. We spent some time living in Arizona, and in Arizona they call these
sliced cheeses “American cheese”. In Canada, they call it “processed cheese.”
I’m not sure why it is America wants ownership of a cheese-like product that
contains more chemicals than my bathtub cleaner (and we are not talking about
green cleaner here) but apparently they do. It’s probably an issue with the
French. You know how Americans feel about the French. They want everyone to
know this is not the cheese of the FRENCH. (Totally just kidding all French and
American readers. Please do not send us hate mail because, while I can definitely
handle it, my mother’s delicate sensibilities cannot and she reads the same
emails I do.)
I was unaware of the difference in
terminology for quite a long time after we moved to Canada, and I continued to
call it American cheese for some time.
Dairy mixture in a pot. |
I was actually unaware of many
differences in terminology for a long time and also had a lot of trouble
differentiating the French-English packaging issue (I was quite convinced for
several years that Deli-Cinq and Five Alive were two different products, not
just the front and back of the same can). Ordering a “Deli-Cinq” in Toronto was
somewhat amusing for people, but it wasn’t confusing for them. However, saying
“American cheese” was literally like speaking another language. Example- when I
was about 16, I considered buying a pre-packaged sandwich in my school
cafeteria. (This was before I sampled the delights of poutine, at that time I
thought poutine might be the most disgusting thing I’d ever heard of). I am
always vaguely suspicious of pre-packaged sandwiches because there are several
dilemmas you face if you get one.
Q. Is that cheese processed?
A. Most likely, unless you are in a
fancy sandwich store. Certainly, if you are in a school cafeteria.
Q. Is that meat processed?
A. Yes, almost always, unless you are in
a restaurant. If not, you face the secondary dilemma of is it chicken? Was it
cooked properly?
Q. How old might that sandwich be?
A. Try not to think about it.
The sandwich I had picked up in the
cafeteria was veggie, so I was unconcerned about the meat situation. But the
cheese situation was an issue, because I wouldn’t eat it if it were sliced
cheese. (I should say that it’s not because I’m like, “Ohhhh, processed food.
Who eats processed food? I eat only food of the earth.” I don’t really care.
It’s more of a texture thing. I can’t eat cold cuts or sliced cheese because
they just really put me off. That’s all. I’m not trying to write some kind of
sanctimonious asshole blog here. If you like processed food, good on you. Have
a Kraft Single for me and roll it up with some sliced deli chicken.)
There was an awkward moment that ensued
because of my 16 year old neuroses that went a little like this:
Curdled... as in, exactly what you don't want to pour into your cereal. |
Bailey: Picks up plastic-encased sandwich. Holds it up to the sky. “Excuse
me, does this sandwich have American cheese?”
Cafeteria employee: Does not look up. “Yes, there is cheese on that sandwich.”
B: “Yes. I can see the cheese. But is it
American cheese?”
C: Blank
stare.
B: Becoming
agitated at the non-instant response. “You know, American cheese. Like, did
you, like, unwrap the slice from plastic? Or did you, like, you know, like, cut
it off a block of cheese?”
Stage
right: Best friend of Bailey, K., enters. Is wildly amused at the scenario and
forming scene in cafeteria.
K: “Is it processed cheese?”
C: “Oh. Yes.”
Cheesecloth on a colander. |
B: “Oh.” Places sandwich back down, in disgust. K looks at her in mortification
and calls her a snob.
End
Scene
So there you go. I don’t like processed
cheese. I am proud to say that I am a cheese snob. At this point, I know you are thinking, “But even the real cheese you
buy in the grocery store is processed on some level. GOD, PEOPLE HAVE REALLY
GONE NUTS WITH THIS ORGANIC THING.” Of course you’re thinking that, because I
have had this conversation before and I know that’s what people think. (But
remember, I’m not judgmental of the processing issue, it’s the texture.)
Draining whey from curds. |
Do you know what is a great way to
counter that argument, should you ever find yourself in it? Make your own
cheese. It’s easier than you think. I have Googled it in the past and been put
off because many recipes require a thermometer, and we know how I feel about
things requiring precise measurements. So I never did it. But then my friend
Zach, who is quite the culinary genius, made his own ricotta and put it on
Facebook. I was so jealy.com that I immediately messaged him and asked how he
did it. I was lucky he shared with me. We have mutual culinary respect for each
other, so in the end I got the goods.
Super easy. Here we go. Start with a
heavy bottomed pot. Pour in four cups of whole milk and one cup of heavy cream.
Bring to a simmer while stirring (don’t let it scorch.) Once it simmers, remove
it from the heat and add 3 tablespoons of fresh lemon juice. Now this requires
full credit to Zach. Most of the recipes I’ve seen on the Internet suggest
vinegar. I’m sure vinegar is fine, but the fresh lemon juice is noticeable in
the final product, and I think it really adds a nice brightness to it. Also add
¾ of a teaspoon of salt. If you wanted to be creative at this point, I am not
one to stop you. Add fresh herbs, you could add honey, whatever you want. Let
it sit for about 10 minutes while it curdles.
And that, my friends, is cheese. |
While that happens, lay a few layers of
cheesecloth in a large colander and put that in the sink. Pour your curds and
whey (how fun is that?) in to the colander and let it drain for two hours or
so.
Now you have cheese! It lasts
refrigerated for about four days. If you do any lovely recipes with your
homemade ricotta, send us the pictures! @ladygirlstable or ladygirlstable@gmail.com.
Wine, always wine. |
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