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This is the view from Craig's deck looking West from Stryker Sonoma. The treeline in the mid-horizon is the Russian River, with the Coast Range in the background. One could get used to it.

What a great weekend. I ate amazingly well--highlights include dinner at Diavola (real Napolitano pizza from a wood-fired oven), lunch at Willi's in Healdsburg (outstanding seafood--tuna tartare, oysters, and an incredible piece of halibut), and a home cooked meal from the Colorado house guests next door (most notably, a sweet potato dish with habanero peppers--a sublime blend of sweet and spicy).

Naturally, there was an abundance of wine. Craig's colleagues, Tim Hardin, winemaker, and Jenn Berman, oenologist and assistant winemaker, were present when duty didn't call. I know it's work, especially now, with harvest in full effect, but, man, the geographic phenomenon that comprises the Northern California wine country is so spectacular, it makes one stop, and breathe, and for that moment, be grateful to be alive.

As for the cheese tasting, it turned out to be a wheel a night proposition. The good news was that each night, the cheese was well received, and consumed. Lots of compliments from folks who know food.

Buffy, Otis, Adrien, Graham, Bill, the two Michael's, Brian, Ashley, Kathleen, and I'm sure I'm leaving someone essential out--the Stryker family is a lovely group of people--thanks so much for your hospitality. If you are able, stop by Stryker. The wines are fantastic, the views breathtaking, and the people, wonderful. I dare you not to envy, but you'll let it go in a heartbeat, because good wins here.

Craig was the greatest host. When you have the sort of history we do, you pick up right where you left off, and with the benefit of age, the most major disagreement becomes such a minor pest, it falls away like an inconvenient piece of lint.

I'm going to finish here and go on to another post because I can't figure out how to post more than one picture at a time and not mess everything up...so next to:

California, Here I come.

Due to my good fortune in the friend department, I'm on my way to Sonoma County.

Craig MacDonald, General Manager & Partner at Stryker Sonoma, made me an offer I couldn't refuse. Said offer entailed a free airplane ride and a bed for the weekend. And, let's not forget, the wine closet, a beautiful, double wide unit stocked with an exceptional array of bottles...this provided you're too lazy to walk down to the winery, which can happen after midnight.

Craig and I met in 9th grade, Fall of 1976. Let your mind go for a moment and think of two svelte young men with longish hair and a penchant for skateboarding. I know, it's preposterous. Here we are 30+ years later, considerably thicker in the middle, yet still thick as thieves.

I've shipped out a "flight" of three different cheeses (by production date), and we are going to do our best to find a suitable beverage. Chris Dearden and Rob Hunter (see late July post) have promised to show, so we won't be lacking for palates.

My Mankato family, otherwise known as the Nolan's, are watching over my cheese this weekend. Jules stopped by yesterday for a brief primer--she says the batches she shepherds over will be the best of all--and why should I doubt her?

Finally, a giant welcome to Greg Herring, my former college roommate and constant source of good will, to the small and decidedly exclusive gang of Alemar partners. My main goal, besides making a living, is to amass my dream board of directors, and I've pretty much done it. Except, of course, for me (see Marx, Groucho).

Time Flies

With some degree of shock I look at this blog and realize it's been a month since I posted anything. Lots has happened, so I guess it's time to catch up.

Sales have continued to blossom. We are on the shelf at Surdyk's, The Wedge Co-op, Premier Cheese, The Craftsman and Restaurant Alma in Minneapolis. We are also available at the Cedar Summit Creamery, and if you have a chance to visit, it's worth the time to make your way to New Prague. The Minar's sell not only their amazing line of dairy offerings, beef and pork, but goods from other local producers as well. Sales continue to hum at the St. Peter Food Co-op, and we've just been invited to be a part of the "Say Cheese" event at the Annual Great Grape Stomp at Morgan Creek Vinyards in Cambria Saturday, October 3rd. The event draws in the neighborhood of 3,000 people, so it should be a great opportunity to spread the word.

I'll be delivering to the Seward and Eastside Co-ops this Friday, and will be visiting most of the other Co-ops in the Twin Cities that same day. I will also be at Surdyk's on Friday, September 25th from four-to-seven sampling as part of their annual cheese sale. 40 cheeses including ours will be 20% off for the duration of the sale, which runs from the 17th through the 26th.

Checks have started to trickle in from vendors, and I admit to a small sense of glee endorsing them and dropping them at the bank.

Perhaps the nicest part of this month has been a handful of emails from people I've never met, who have taken the time to let me know they are fans of Alemar Cheese. It's sometimes easy to think of myself as an island, but now I'm realizing I'm more like a tiny but growing tree with a few more branches sprouting each week. So much for the similes.

The cheesemaking process continues to be a great source of wonder and satisfaction. Besides becoming more proficient with each make, I'm really focusing on how the cheese ages. I'm trying to find the best techniques necessary to extend the life of the cheese for our vendors. This is primarily a question of when to move the cheese from our aging room to refrigeration, and with a bit of coaching and experimentation, I hope to have this nailed down soon.

Have a great day, and thanks for stopping by.

Phase Four

The past few days have brought about, I think, the fourth stage of Alemar Cheese. Stage one was the idea that popped into my head in the last days of 2007, and began to increasingly occupy my thoughts, that it was time to strike out on my own again. If I haven't confessed it yet, I'll gladly do it now.

I have a number of friends in California who make wine for a living, notably Chris Dearden (an Alemar partner) from Benessere Vinyards, Craig MacDonald from Stryker Sonoma, and Rob Hunter of Bennett Lane & Hunter Three (Chris & Rob consult and are partners in too many ventures to name). My Dad, Bill, was the cross country coach at UC Davis of numerous winemakers, including Nils Venge, Mike McGrath, and Rob Davis, all of whom are now elder statesmen of California winemaking. I have had the pleasure of watching them all lead an enviable life of passion and, let's face it, sanguinity.

Though wine is a growth industry in Minnesota, and in fact, one of my investor partners, Kent Schwickert, is now the lead proprietor of Chankaska Creek Winery just outside of town, I felt like I had neither the resources nor training to pursue a life in wine. But what else could I do to feed my desire to live some sort of similar lifestyle?

Well, there is plenty of milk in Minnesota, and cheese has always been a comfort and inspiration. I will forever remember searching Amazon in the waning days of 2007, looking for a book that would educate and inspire. Enter "American Farmstead Cheese" by Paul Kindstedt. I read it, cover-to-cover, in a matter of days. Most of it was far too technical for my amateur mind, but it gave me hope that I might just be on the right path.

Opportunity, or desperation, or more to the point, both, came next. I left my comfortable sales job, with benefits and stability, for a start up job offering more upside and, at least the promise of autonomy. I'll save the gory details for later, but in short order, the new job evaporated.

On to phase two: plotting, planning, learning, and making connections--broaching the subject with longtime friends (the hands-down most excruciating part) of potential investment; writing a business plan, reading, taking a class, becoming somewhat knowledgeable.

Once funded, phase two continued. Ordering equipment, finding a space, and continuing my education proved a daunting yet heady challenge. You can't fail if you haven't done anything yet.

Now, after many months of putting things in place, I had to actually make cheese, phase three. The good news was that I truly enjoyed the routine and pace of what I was doing. Having observed my winemaking friends at work, I could see the similarities and pleasures of the labor. I slept better than I have in a long time after a hard day of cheesemaking. I have mentioned in previous posts my anxiety towards waiting for results. Five weeks? Unleash the hounds of neurosis. If they had tests for ADHD back in the day, I'm sure I'd be on some form of medication now.

Eventually, I found what I was looking for. The cheese was not only good, but by trial and error, consistent. I will always strive to get better, but I'd found a certain level of competence.

Which brings us to phase four. Mankato, mysteriously, has never been able to support a co-op for any duration. Our much smaller neighbor to the North, St. Peter, has had a thriving co-op for decades. Much credit goes to Margo, the driving force behind it.

On Wednesday, as I was headed to Cedar Summit for milk, I stopped off at the co-op and left a wheel of cheese. Having been in sales for much of my life, I know that you have to make the effort to secure a sale--the buyer has the leverage, and it's incumbent on the seller to ask for the order.

To this point, the only messages on our voice mail at work have been telemarket related. But, last afternoon, Jim, the cheese buyer at the co-op left me a message asking for a call back with the likelihood of a sale. I missed him, but tried him again early this morning. A short time later, Jim returned the call. He asked if I could bring over a dozen wheels when time permitted. I mentioned that I was headed to the Cities on sales calls and could drop them by in a few hours. A chorus of Angels might have sung; I was a bit distracted at the time.

It is vital to note that the St. Peter co-op was, in fact, Alemar Cheese's second sale. Tom Cook, now of Kansas City, has had a standing order for months now. Tom, your status as customer number one is secure.

I spent the rest of the day dropping samples off to cheese shops, the two Whole Foods Markets in Minneapolis/St. Paul, and a number of restaurants that focus on local and sustainable foods. To a person, they were gracious and welcoming. I took pictures, and will post them when someone shows me how.

I'm guessing phase five is the part where we go from spending money to making some. Profit is not a bad word. It's the only way a business survives.

In keeping, I hope, with a healthy dose of humility, remind me later to tell you the story of shipping cheese to my partners, friends and family out West. Like I said, I'll tell you later.

Batch #12

Well, at least it appears that the waiting is over. And forgive my lack of posts, but anything prior to this would have been equal measures optimism and anxiety. Not pleasant reading.

This past Sunday, I had a half-size wheel of cheese, produced on June 17th, that had sufficiently ripened for tasting. At a small gathering of friends, I unwrapped the cheese and let them have at. One bite for me, and I knew it: this was right. I guess that will be the answer from now on--if it doesn't feel spot on, it probably isn't. My friends, some of whom are avowed non-connoisseurs, were very pleased with the taste. So the cheese was accessible, yet for me also held characteristics of depth. Hurray.

Additionally, I sent a number of batch samples to Margaret Morris, my equipment supplier at Glengarry Cheesemaking, an acknowledged guru of cheese and author of "The Cheesemaker's Manual". She singled out "batch 12" as the winner by a mile. Sweet confirmation.

Now batch 12 is resting in refrigeration, waiting to be shipped to my investor partners, advisers, family and friends. And I'll be spending a busy day in the Twin Cities dropping samples to every cheese shop that will let me in their door.

Lots and lots of work to do, but a corner may have been turned.

The waiting is the hardest part

Tom Petty, I couldn't agree more. I know I've got a streak of impatience, so waiting and wondering how a batch will turn out has occasionally gotten the better of me. Things appear to be correct, but there are lots of variables that I have to track to know what, in retrospect, I've done right or wrong. The most important thing, and I try to focus on it as much as I can, is that my competence and understanding of the process improves daily. But, oy, the waiting...

Progress

Things have been moving along in a generally positive way over the past few weeks. That's not to say that everything has gone perfectly.

I continue to love the work. My main concern right now is getting the make formula just right and consistent. Next, I'm focusing on finding a home for the cheese. The retailers I've spoken with have been terrific--I'd like to single out Claire Thomas at Surdyk's Cheese Shop in Minneapolis for her detailed tasting notes. This weekend I'm going up to visit Scott from Great Ciao, a local distributor of fine foods and a cheesemaker in his own right. He has a farm about an hour's drive from me--should be a fine time, and I'll be sure to post on how it goes.

Working alone, on balance, has been wonderful. I can tune the radio or Ipod to whatever suits my mood, and no one is there to distract me from whatever it is I'm doing. Still, there are moments when I feel an onset of cabin fever. Self-doubt can creep up on me, and I don't have a trusted ally to lean on. Here I fall back on the notion that this is a journey, a process, an adventure. And that works...most of the time.