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.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
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.
Friday, July 17, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, June 26, 2009
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...
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Breaking Radio Silence
Please forgive me for such a lengthy pause since my last post.
I've been on a fairly predictable schedule for the past month, and each week gets a little more manageable time wise. The joy in doing this for a living has not fallen off a bit.
As the cheese got closer to ripeness, however, the fear demons began to get the better of me. I did my best to keep expectations low, but with so much time and energy invested, naturally I wanted good results and acceptance.
I tasted the first batch by myself on Wednesday. I bought some crackers and a few granny smith apples, then climbed the stairs to my apartment with equal measures of excitement and dread. The moment of truth had arrived.
Only, in a way, it hadn't. The cheese, to me, tasted delicious. I knew the smell, texture and appearance were on, and the aftertaste lingered forever, another good sign. But my objectivity was completely suspect. You might as well have asked me if I think my daughters are beautiful. This brought on a flurry of anxiety. I called a few friends to "talk me down" (thanks, by the way, Mike, Bud & Art).
I couldn't stop thinking about the taste throughout Thursday. That night, I had more cheese, this time with a serviceable Merlot. Again, a pleasant experience. I found myself wanting more, which I took as a good sign, but, still the nerves jangled.
On Friday, I brought some cheese over to my friends Jules and Mike. Jules has a palate I trust, so on pins and needles I unwrapped a ripe round of Bent River.
She tasted carefully, and pronounced the cheese very good. This brought me relief and pleasure. I was ready for the next step, having a professional cheese buyer sample my wares.
So, on Saturday, I herded Alex and Mari into the car with a cooler full of cheese, Minneapolis bound. We visited Surdyck's and Premier Cheese. Ken Liss, the proprietor of Premier wasted no time cutting into a round. He deliberated for what seemed an hour before pronouncing the cheese "fresh and good". He was enthusiastic enough to invite me up for a cheesemaker event sometime in the future. The girls and I left the shop heady and full of smiles. We celebrated with a nice lunch across the street at the Edina Grill, basking in the sun on more than one level.
The final hurrah came this morning as I stopped at Cedar Summit to pick up milk for todays make. I sauntered up to the Minar's door, and Florence met me before I had a chance to knock. I passed over a few rounds of cheese and asked for her feedback when she had a chance. She mentioned that a friend from Italy and a chef were over, and they were excited to try the cheese. Gulp.
As I was pumping the milk into my vat, Dave came out of nowhere with a grin, punched me in the shoulder and said "You hit it!"; he had some of the cheese sliced up and passed it out to Cat and Jim, his co-workers. He said everyone in the house loved the cheese. I told him "You can't make great cheese without great milk", and we nodded one another a silent congratulation.
Fittingly, back to earth: after pumping the milk into the my vat and starting the pasteurization process, I went outside to clean the truck and locked myself out of the building. Landlord can't find his key. It's Memorial Day, no locksmith will pick up the phone. Heart racing.
It's startling what a committed man with a hammer can do to a doorknob.
I've been on a fairly predictable schedule for the past month, and each week gets a little more manageable time wise. The joy in doing this for a living has not fallen off a bit.
As the cheese got closer to ripeness, however, the fear demons began to get the better of me. I did my best to keep expectations low, but with so much time and energy invested, naturally I wanted good results and acceptance.
I tasted the first batch by myself on Wednesday. I bought some crackers and a few granny smith apples, then climbed the stairs to my apartment with equal measures of excitement and dread. The moment of truth had arrived.
Only, in a way, it hadn't. The cheese, to me, tasted delicious. I knew the smell, texture and appearance were on, and the aftertaste lingered forever, another good sign. But my objectivity was completely suspect. You might as well have asked me if I think my daughters are beautiful. This brought on a flurry of anxiety. I called a few friends to "talk me down" (thanks, by the way, Mike, Bud & Art).
I couldn't stop thinking about the taste throughout Thursday. That night, I had more cheese, this time with a serviceable Merlot. Again, a pleasant experience. I found myself wanting more, which I took as a good sign, but, still the nerves jangled.
On Friday, I brought some cheese over to my friends Jules and Mike. Jules has a palate I trust, so on pins and needles I unwrapped a ripe round of Bent River.
She tasted carefully, and pronounced the cheese very good. This brought me relief and pleasure. I was ready for the next step, having a professional cheese buyer sample my wares.
So, on Saturday, I herded Alex and Mari into the car with a cooler full of cheese, Minneapolis bound. We visited Surdyck's and Premier Cheese. Ken Liss, the proprietor of Premier wasted no time cutting into a round. He deliberated for what seemed an hour before pronouncing the cheese "fresh and good". He was enthusiastic enough to invite me up for a cheesemaker event sometime in the future. The girls and I left the shop heady and full of smiles. We celebrated with a nice lunch across the street at the Edina Grill, basking in the sun on more than one level.
The final hurrah came this morning as I stopped at Cedar Summit to pick up milk for todays make. I sauntered up to the Minar's door, and Florence met me before I had a chance to knock. I passed over a few rounds of cheese and asked for her feedback when she had a chance. She mentioned that a friend from Italy and a chef were over, and they were excited to try the cheese. Gulp.
As I was pumping the milk into my vat, Dave came out of nowhere with a grin, punched me in the shoulder and said "You hit it!"; he had some of the cheese sliced up and passed it out to Cat and Jim, his co-workers. He said everyone in the house loved the cheese. I told him "You can't make great cheese without great milk", and we nodded one another a silent congratulation.
Fittingly, back to earth: after pumping the milk into the my vat and starting the pasteurization process, I went outside to clean the truck and locked myself out of the building. Landlord can't find his key. It's Memorial Day, no locksmith will pick up the phone. Heart racing.
It's startling what a committed man with a hammer can do to a doorknob.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Let's face it, I'm tired.
Cribbed from Mel Brooks, and delivered by Lily Von Stupp (Madeline Kahn) in Blazing Saddles, "Let's face it, I'm tired". According to Lily, "everything below the waist is kaput". I'm simpatico, but everything below the neck is kaput. This is a good thing because I'm a chubby man, so all the exercise I'm forced to do is one step closer to getting back to "fighting weight". I have nicks and cuts all over my hands, and my entire body aches. What a great way to get back in shape, doing something I love and would do for free. There is sore for the wrong reasons and sore for the right, and I'm happy to report this is all right. G'night...
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