On goat case is on FLEEK right now. Is that still a term? Does anyone say that or is it lost to the annals of terms come and gone (includes As if!, keen, chuckaboo, and far out)? Anyway! One of my favorite cheeses in our bitchin’ goat case is Twig Square from Twig Farm in Cornwall, Vermont. On their website, owners Michael Lee and Emily Sunderman write, “It takes a lot of work to do things simply”, which sums up Twig Farm nicely. They are careful stewards of their 40 acres of land, their herd of Alpine goats, and their cheeses. Michael, the head cheesemaker, wants his cheese to reflect the place in which it is made, so the goats forage around their farm until the Vermont winter gets too harsh when they are fed organic hay and a little grain.  The milk, then, has a specific flavor to Twig Farm ensuring the cheese will as well. Michael ages the cheese in their cellar with as little intervention as possible so that the flavors of the goat’s milk shine. This means that his cheeses have a very natural look – they might be lumpy, irregularly shaped, the rind imperfect, a splotch here, a fuzz there, but you will know you are getting a cheese from Twig Farm that can’t be replicated anywhere else. This funky look is one of my favorite things about Twig Farm cheese! Sometimes, it looks like a loaf of bread, or a stone in your garden. But then slice the wheel in half and it’s cheese inside! Neat-o!

Currently we have Twig Square, named simply for the square-ish shape of the cheese. Aged for 90 days, it is semi-firm and tastes earthy and tart with some minerality (aka tastes kinda like wet slate, but that sounds less fancy) and a refreshingly bitter rind. Cut a slice thin enough, and the cheese will almost melt on your tongue. Suddenly you’re transported to a forest in Vermont with goats wandering around here and there. Add some cider from New England (we’ve got a new organic cider called Apple Bite from France, it’s deeeelish) for a full fall experience. How rad is that??

For the love of cheese and the groovy places where they come from,

Kiri