Say Cheese or Not

Happy one month birthday Billy Beef! Wow!  What a month.  It started out kind of the same way I started as a new mother; looking at the baby who didn't want to go to sleep at 11:00pm and thinking, "Now what?" only this time I am looking at a giant udder at 5:30am and thinking, "Now what?"  Here are a few things I have learned over the past month

1. I can milk a cow like a boss!  The first couple of days battling with the 20lb Surge Milker, trying to hoist it onto Noelle's "belt" and then trying to lean under the 850lb cow to attach the four suctions all while trying to avoid being kicked, I ended up in tears and resorted to hand milking.  Cross that off the bucket list. Hand milking is for the retired millionaire who fancies himself a gentleman farmer not the woman who has to be to work at 8am with three kids in the house not getting ready for school despite my threats as I left for the barn.  I scoffed at the ridiculous price of the Surger Milker, but now I am very thankful for the Husband's impulsivity and Type A personality that, "Has no time to waste milking by hand".

2. Cows produce A LOT of milk!  Thank Hera Billy Beef didn't end up Vinnie Veal because we get 5-6 gallons milking once a day without separating mom and nursing calf.  I cannot imagine where I would put 12 or more gallons if I had to milk her twice a day.  We have a fridge dedicated to dairy. It is filled with five gallon jars of fresh milk, cream, butter, yogurt, cheese and the freezer has some interesting ice cream flavors: Basil Chocolate Chip anyone?

3. And speaking of cheese, I have learned that I suck at making it.  When I agreed to abandon the city and move out to the country, I told the Husband I would do it if I could make sheep's milk cheese. Three years, 72 chickens, five cats, two bunnies, two dogs, a miniature horse, a cow and a calf later, I still do not have any sheep, but I do make cheese (poorly).  It is way too sciencey for my cooking skills. I am more of the Shirley Valentine school of cooking.  "I like a glass of wine while I am preparing the evening meal.  Don't I wall?"

There is no drinking while making cheese.  Partially because you have to pay attention to temperatures and what culture to add when and the cutting of the curds.  The other reason is that it is very time consuming.  When you start at 7am with milk still steaming from the cow, and end the process days later, that would be one hell of a bender.

As I type away I have some curd setting for feta which will be ready in three days.  Farmhouse cheddar will take two months or more.  Since I am more of an instant gratification seeker, I have tried several times to perfect the 30 minute mozzarella.  I have had one slightly edible ball, but most have tasted like silly putty. Yes, I did chew on silly putty when I was a kid so I do know what I am talking about.  There is nothing like pressing a wad of slimy grey silly putty onto your favorite Family Circus comic in the Sunday paper and then peeling the image from the page and popping it into your mouth.

There are so many variables to experiment with to determine why your cheese sucks.  Is the milk too fatty?  Not fatty enough?  Did I add too much citric acid?  Was the temperature right?  Should I add the rennet later?  Should I let it sit longer?  Usually with cooking I just add more butter or white wine.  Sauce too thin?  Add butter.  Sauce too thick?  Add white wine. Food too bland?  Sauté it in butter and add white wine.  For my daily cooking I don't need to know the chemical structure of milk fat and protein and why milk is different depending on the time of day or year you get it.  And how to compensate for the different fat content and whether your cow was pissed at you the last time you milked her.

Fear not readers.  I have not given up.  I will be winning that blue ribbon for Best Cheese at the County Fair next year, but in the meantime...Watch out Ben & Jerry.  I am gunning for you.  Oh, and here's a cute video of mom and baby.

Yup. We got milk.

Billy Beef is two weeks old.  We were considering changing his name to Vinnie Veal, but cannot bear the idea of taking him away from Noelle at this point.  Her mothering instincts are intense and beautiful.  I thought I was a rockstar because I managed to push out a few babies, but I had a team of people helping me out:  ob/gyns, midwives, nurses, husband, best friend.  I can't imagine what it would be like to start feeling really crampy one day and all of a sudden see a slimy little creature come out of you.  Then, while experiencing complete exhaustion and bewilderment, you feel compelled to lick the slimy little creature clean and eat its placenta.  Mother Nature is the bomb.

It took some time to get Noelle into the barn to milk her.  She prefers to spend her time out in the pasture with Billy and his de facto godmother, Cody Bear.  Ironically, with his cinnamon coloring and white facial markings, Billy looks more like his godmother than his mother and Cody Bear takes her job very seriously.

I spent a few days trying to entice Noelle to come into the barn by bringing a big scoop of grain out into the pasture and shaking it so she could hear. She looked at me, looked at Billy lying next to her, bowed her head and gave him a low, guttural  moo.  He immediately rose to his feet and trotted up the hill behind her.

Finally by day 4, I came a little closer with my scoop of grain and let a few pieces cascade from my hand so she would know it was the real deal.  Again she looked at me, looked at Billy and gave him a low guttural moo.  He jumped to his feet, but this time trotted behind her down to the barn.  I put two heaping scoops of feed into her pail and locked her into the stanchion.  After a few failed attempts to attach the milking machine/medieval torture device, I decided to forgo the milking and try to get my hands on Billy.

He immediately fled the barn and I followed behind calling to him in the most Mary Poppinsish voice I could conjure.  He stopped a safe distance away and stared at me with a curious head tilt.  I thought my Dr. Doolittle routine was working until Cody Bear ratted me out with a warning call to the entrapped Noelle.  She whinnied and Noelle frantically mooed in response. I decided it was best to go  back to the barn and release her from the stanchion rather than risk her never entering the barn again.

We now have a pretty good milking routine. The husband or I go out in the morning and call to Noelle.  She moos to Billy and he follows her into the barn.  He has his own stall next to her stanchion and he lies down where she can see him while she eats and is milked.  I even got to pet him.

There has been no separation of mother and baby like we thought we would have to do in order to get our share of the milk. He nurses on demand and we still get about 5 gallons of milk a day.  It is a win-win for everyone, except perhaps the poor creature attached to the milking machine. Our little self-sufficient engine is really revving up on the Farmette.