Again?? Yes, unbelievably, again. For the fifth time, a Jasper Hill Farm cheese was deemed Best of Show at the American Cheese Society’s annual judging. What’s more, the winning cheese is a two-time champion, finishing first in 2013 as well. This year, it prevailed over more than 1,600 entries, seducing the judges who elevated it over all the other category winners. “This particular batch was one of the best cheeses I’ve ever eaten in my life,” said the creamery owner after the awards ceremony in Louisville last week. Finishing right behind it was a new Wisconsin sheep cheese and, in third place, an aged Gouda produced at an unusual urban creamery.

The washed-rind Winnimere (above right) is a long-time Jasper Hill favorite, affectionately referred to as “Winnie” at the Vermont creamery. Made with raw cow’s milk from the farm’s own herd, it is banded with local spruce bark to keep it from collapsing as it matures. Writing about it in the San Francisco Chronicle after its debut 15 years ago, I praised the oozy, fondue-like interior and described the aroma as “profoundly woodsy, with scents of mushroom, cherries, earth, garlic, ham hock and mustard.”

In my experience, those notes are still accurate, although I didn’t have the chance to taste a wheel from the winning batch. Alas, none of us will get to take home any Winnimere anytime soon. It is a seasonal cheese, made only in winter. The year’s final make yielded the wheels submitted for judging, and that batch is history. If you’re disappointed (as I am), imagine how it feels to be the Best of Show cheesemaker and have no cheese to sell.

Competing at ACS for the first time, Artze (above left) took second place over all. It is a soft-ripened sheep cheese from Wisconsin’s six-year-old Blakesville Creamery, already an award magnet. Cheesemaker Veronica Pedraza dusts the outside of the 2-pound wheel with piment d’Espelette, a nod to her Basque grandmother, whose family name, Artze, means shepherd. The cheese is luscious when ripe, with a tender Geotrichum rind, notes of mushroom and cultured milk, and a fruity paprika finish. Pedraza purchases her milk from the groundbreaking Wisconsin dairy farm building a flock of prized Assaf sheep. Find Artze online at Murray’s.

In third place is a new-to-me cheese from an 8-year-old Cincinnati creamery. Urban Stead’s ‘Nati Gouda is a rare thing—an 18- to 20-month-old Gouda with an unwaxed natural rind. The vast majority of aged Gouda is waxed to prevent mold growth and moisture loss. (Moisture is money.) But a natural rind encourages air exchange and potential flavor development.

“Truth be told, we struggled a lot with our Gouda and came ‘this close’ to scrapping it,” said creamery co-owner Andrea Siefring-Robbins (above center) at a media briefing. “Goodness, am I glad we didn’t.” Me, too. The wheel I tasted was dense, creamy and concentrated, with sweet, milky and nutty flavors.

You can find the full list of 2026 winners here but suffice it to say that Vermont ran the table. Jasper Hill Farm is cementing its reputation as an artisan cheese-industry icon with its five Best of Show ribbons (two for Winnimere and one each for Cabot Clothbound, Harbison and Whitney). Mateo Kehler, who started the enterprise with his brother, Andy, is an exceedingly articulate and thoughtful ambassador for artisan cheese so I’m just going to turn the mic over to him for some final, lightly edited words from the media briefing.

“We’re using cheese as a mechanism to renew vitality in our community,” said Kehler, who described Greensboro, Jasper Hill’s home base, as “the geographic center of the middle of nowhere.”

Vermont’s dramatic collapse of dairy farms continues, said Kehler, and with that, “the fabric of the rural economy is falling apart.” Agricultural policies designed to combat food inflation do so at the expense of rural communities, said the cheesemaker, transferring wealth from farms to cities. With cheese, he’s fighting back.

“Cheese has the capacity to sustain working lands and make life viable for another generation,” he continued. “And for cheesemakers, it’s an opportunity to participate in the transformation of a sacred raw material, to remember what it means to be human and in contact with an ancient craft—to feed people and be fed by the feeding of others.”

She slices, she dices, she cuts and wraps. She pairs to perfection, blind-tastes with aplomb and has read The Oxford Companion to Cheese from A to G (because, really, who could finish it?) That’s why 28-year-old Hanna Lee (above) is the newest winner of the Cheesemonger Invitational, a wild and wacky competition that can rocket the victor to cheese-world fame. In this interview for Planet Cheese, Lee explains how she prevailed, shares six cheeses she’s loving right now and tackles the question I’m asked most often: Can you eat the rind?

Lee’s animal-science studies in college piqued her interest in dairy farming, a slippery slope to cheesemaking and cheese. She has interned at the renowned Uplands Cheese in Wisconsin, makers of Pleasant Ridge Reserve; worked behind the counter at Whole Foods; and deepened her cheese knowledge with Cheese State University and Academy of Cheese courses. And, obviously, she likes to compete. This was Lee’s third Cheesemonger Invitational. She placed second last year before traveling to the U.K. to vie for—and win—the title of International Young Cheesemonger of the Year. She currently works at the Mouse Hole Cheese Shop in Albuquerque, one of only two independent cheese merchants in New Mexico.

I’ve edited our conversation for brevity and clarity.

What is it about cheese that grabbed you?

I’ve been interested in food since I was a kid and loved to watch cooking challenges on TV. The idea that you can manipulate ingredients into all these different flavors is something that has always captured my attention. Apart from flavor-added cheeses, all cheese has the same four ingredients: milk, rennet, salt and cultures. You see fresh mozzarella next to three-year-old Gouda, and you're like, these are not the same cheeses, but at the core of it, they are. Seeing how every cheesemaker chooses to manipulate those ingredients is really what has kept me in it.

You’ve competed at Cheesemonger Invitational before but what was your training regimen this time?

I did three cheese competitions last year, so I’d built up this base of knowledge. I read through American Farmstead Cheese and The Oxford Companion to Cheese.

Like cover to cover? You read that?

No, I tried. It's so dense. I probably read through G and then started flipping.

Tell me about your Perfect Bite (100 portions of an original bite-size creation using an assigned cheese).

My cheese was Gruyère 1655, a lovely cheese. When I got my assignment, I wrote down all my ideas, and then I’m like, can I actually execute this? I made a caramel sauce with orange juice and miso. So there was acid from the orange juice and salty umami from the miso. I used a melon baller to scoop out the Gruyère and filled the center with caramel sauce and put a Rold Gold mini pretzel on top.

Wow, a lot going on there.

Usually, my first idea is the best. It’s about taking my initial instincts and distilling them into a composed presentation.

Off the cuff, what three cheeses would you choose for an All-American cheese plate right now?

I've really been loving Cumberland from Sequatchie Cove. It's tomme style, very light and milky and earthy. For a soft cheese, Shabby Shoe from Blakesville Creamery. It has a bright, lemony cakiness and it has been really appealing recently. In New York I tasted Murray’s Stockinghall Cheddar—amazing cheese.

And for an international plate?

One cheese that I always recommend to people is Robiola Bosina. It’s incredible in summer with stone fruit. And then the Tomme de Chèvre from Onetik—similar to the Cumberland but more mushroomy and brighter because of the goat milk. We did Etxegarai for our cheese club last month at the store. It’s a smoked Basque sheep cheese and really tasty.

What cheese do you think is underappreciated?

It’s not really a hard sell, but Prairie Breeze from Milton Creamery could be seen as a commodity cheese. It’s super approachable, at a nice price point, and it’s got that sweet pineapple, caramelized flavor. In cheesemongering, there's a sort of bell curve. When you start out and don't know anything, every cheese is incredible. And then when you've been around for a couple of years, you’re like, “I only want specialty products, none of that mass-produced stuff.” But if you stick around, you start to see the merit in those 40-pound blocks and why they're so important, because they do get people interested in more specialty cheese.

I’m curious how you deal with questions that I get all the time from consumers, like “How long will this last?”

We sell all of our cheeses in Formaticum paper at the shop, which definitely helps extend the life. I think the true answer is to buy the amount of cheese you need for that day. Cheese is always going to be best on the day you get it. And then you get to come in more often and see what's new.

“Can I eat the rind?”

Absolutely, unless it’s wax or cloth. But there are some cheeses where I don't recommend it. Like, Cabra al Romero, rubbed in rosemary. It’s a little pokey. Or if it’s very strong and will impact the flavor of the cheese. I don’t personally eat the rind on Gruyère or Comté but some people love it. If you’re curious about a rind, taste it. You can eat it just once and then never again. There’s no cheese police saying, “You didn’t eat your rind.”

“There’s mold on my cheese. Throw it away?”

As long as it's not a scary color, like black or pink on the face of the cheese. If it's fluffy white or blue, it's just the rind trying to colonize the rest of the cheese. Just scrape it off.

Last question: “Bread or crackers?”

My personal thought is: none. I like to experience the cheese just as it is.

With our nation celebrating its 250th birthday this weekend, I’m betting that ice cream sales will spike. We could say we’re honoring Thomas Jefferson, the original ice-cream influencer. But, really, what’s a summer celebration without ice cream? You can grab a carton at the store, or you can make your own and be the talk of the party. Cannoli ice cream, mascarpone ice cream, maple crème fraîche ice cream…you’re not going to find those at the supermarket. Whatever else is on your Independence Day menu, I hope the ice cream will be homemade. 

Cannoli Ice Cream 

Homemade cannoli ice cream incorporates everything I love most about cannoli (the creamy ricotta filling) and nothing I don’t (the refrigerator-cold fried shell). The ricotta ice cream is super easy. As soon as it has finished churning, you fold in candied orange, chopped pistachios and chopped chocolate—as much as you like. 

Strawberry Mascarpone Ice Cream Sundae  

Mascarpone gives ice cream a hint of a cheesecake flavor. I love it in an ice cream sundae, layered with strawberries, strawberries sauce and toasted almonds. Or serve scoops alongside slices of warm berry pie.

Maple Crème Fraîche Ice Cream with Blueberry Sauce 

I never make plain vanilla ice cream anymore. Crème fraîche ice cream is much more compelling, with its subtle sour-cream flavor. This tasty variation—shared with me years ago by Vermont Creamery—adds the appealing caramel note of maple syrup. Serve it on its own with apple or peach pie or in a parfait glass with blueberry sauce and candied walnuts.

After many years of home gardening, I’ve learned that two zucchini plants is one too many. Good grief, they produce enough for a farmstand. Fortunately, my recipe collection can keep up with the harvest. And they are so tasty right now—with firm flesh, thin skin and no seeds. But let’s face it: even the best zucchini appreciate a flavor boost. Cheese to the rescue. I’ve been reacquainting myself with my zucchini recipe archive and thought you might welcome some inspiration, too. If you don’t have a garden, you surely have a farmers’ market nearby or neighbors dropping their surplus on your porch in the dead of night. Just look at what can happen when zucchini meets cheese.

Grilled Zucchini with Yogurt Sauce, Feta, Lemon and Dill

If you’re grilling lamb, chicken or salmon, make room on the grill for these yummy Greek-ish zucchini (pictured above). At my house, we like them so much that we dispense with the meat and just have the grilled zucchini with bulgur, couscous or rice. From Yogurt: Sweet and Savory Recipes for Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner.

Zucchini Sifnos-Style with Feta, Pine Nuts and Mint

I had this dish at Omega 3, a beachfront taverna in Platys Gialos, Sifnos, where it comes with a complimentary view of the Aegean. You can also simply lay the zucchini slices flat on a platter rather than rolling them. The presentation isn’t quite as dramatic but the flavor is the same.

Summer Squash Carpaccio with Sheep Cheese, Arugula and Almonds

Long, straight-sided green and gold zucchini look like ribbons when shaved for this salad. A brief rest in a garlicky vinaigrette renders them supple, so they can be tossed with arugula and shavings of manouri or ricotta salata. From Eating Local: The Cookbook Inspired by America’s Farmers.

Zucchini Risotto with Burrata

I’ve been making zucchini risotto forever but had never thought to plop burrata on top until I saw such a dish on Principato di Lucedio’s Instagram. This historic farm in Piemonte grows fabulous Carnaroli rice—I visited years ago—so the Lucedio Instagram is a rich source of risotto ideas. The chef used stracciatella, but burrata is easier to find and similar; stracciatella is what’s inside burrata.

Baked Ricotta-Stuffed Zucchini

Serve hot, warm or at room temperature with any grilled meat, or with a tomato sauce underneath. This excellent recipe comes from cooking teacher Rosetta Costantino, with whom I collaborated on My Calabria (W. W. Norton).

The calendar says summer is imminent (the weather says it’s here) and I’m already lightening up. More salads, more Muga rosé and definitely some fresher, lighter cheeses on the table. Mozzarella and burrata, of course, but what I really crave in summer is the lively, lemony tang of fresh goat cheese. Sometimes I warm it until it’s as soft as custard. Or I spiff it up it with fruity olive oil and chopped thyme or pink peppercorns. I recently found a new fresh goat cheese to love (it’s Italian) and reacquainted myself with another favorite from France that smells like a hillside in Provence.

CasArrigoni’s Robiola Caprino (above) tastes like no goat cheese I’ve ever had. The company’s website describes it as crumbly but maybe that’s before it gets on a plane. What I bought was possibly the creamiest chèvre I’ve ever tasted, moist and delicate, with no chalkiness whatsoever. The log sliced neatly without crumbling and the cheese felt like silk on my tongue. The flavor is gentle and mild, subtly lactic but not goaty.

As you can see from the image, this rindless robiola is formed into mini logs, not quite 3 ounces each. Getting it to the U.S. (much less California, where I live) in good condition is a feat of careful packaging. My robiola tasted like it was made yesterday. The logs are individually wrapped in paper to absorb moisture, then packed in pairs in sealed trays. Once you breach the package, use the cheese quickly—ideally within a couple of days.

CasArrigoni is a 45-year-old family firm in Italy’s Val Taleggio, just north of Bergamo. They are both a producer and an affineur, aging the cheeses of other Lombardy producers in their caves. You will have an easier time finding the firm’s Taleggio and Gorgonzola than the short-lived robiola. I purchased Robiola Caprino at Market Hall Foods in Oakland but I haven’t succeeded in finding other retail sources, and the local distributor is oddly unhelpful. An East Coast importer told me he hopes to have it in the future; it must travel by air, which is a hurdle.

In the meantime, don’t overlook the lovely Fleur Verte this summer. I see it regularly at Whole Foods so that’s an easy one. The cloak of tarragon, thyme and pink peppercorns perfumes the interior and sends me to the fridge for a bottle of rosé. Spread this soft cheese on crostini with fresh or sun-dried tomatoes, or serve with a cucumber or green bean salad. And what a perfect choice to fold into an omelette.

A good merchant should have several fresh goat, cow and sheep cheeses for summer cheese boards and salads. Keep an eye out for these, all of them high on my go-to list in warm weather.

Our recent trip to northern Spain was as much a seafood deep dive as a cheese journey, but I did visit two top-tier creameries in Galicia and two impeccably curated cheese shops in Madrid. It was torture to encounter so many tantalizing cheeses and not be able to bring them home. But you should know about these must-see shops in case Madrid is in your future. And I want to highlight two of the cheeses that wowed me—one of them already available in the U.S. As for the other—recently named Spain’s best—well, we can hope.

First, the cheese we can get: KM 39 (pictured above). Its name in Spain is different—Galmesán, a mashup of Galicia and Parmesan. Importer Michele Buster of Forever Cheese renamed it to reference the creamery’s location in Arzúa—39 kilometers from the end point of the Camino del Santiago. Buster was hiking the Camino five years ago when she realized she was just a few minutes away from the producer of a cheese she had heard about. “You’re on the wrong path,” people warned her when she detoured to visit Galmesán. “No, I’m on the right path,” she replied, and for that we can be grateful. Forever Cheese began importing KM 39 in 2022. Here’s a retail list.

Doug and I showed up at the creamery in time to witness most of the production process. The cow’s milk comes from local farms and is skimmed, pasteurized and cultured with whey from the day before. The curd is cut small, warmed in the whey, then drained, pressed, transferred to round forms and pressed again. The roughly 25-pound wheels spend 15 days in brine, then 18 months on pine boards in the cave. Mature wheels are firm, deep gold and crystalline, with a friable texture and a deeply nutty, faintly citrusy aroma. Watch how creamery manager Carmelo Cano makes the critical decision about whether the curd is ready to cut.

To my surprise, Cano served the cheese to us in slices. I would have probably made chunks as I do for Parmigiano Reggiano, but she believes it tastes better sliced thin. Serve it as a tapa with olives and fino sherry or Cava or on a cheese board at the end of a meal with a big red wine.

We also visited Airas Moniz in the Galician village of Chantada, producers of Savel, last year’s winner of the Cheese from Spain awards. Made with pasteurized Jersey cow’s milk (rare in Spain), Savel is an easy-to-love blue truckle, creamy and mellow. Its toasty aroma reminds me of Saltine crackers, and it has the butteriness and approachability of Bayley Hazen Blue. We saw it everywhere in Galicia and Asturias, a big success for this 9-year-old creamery whose three partners are driven by a desire to revitalize the farm economy in Galicia. Anyone can book a tour and tasting at Airas Moniz; if you do go, be sure to reserve a table for lunch at nearby A Faragulla. In this video, watch how a creamery worker seals the exterior of the cheese to halt the blueing.

The two Madrid cheese shops that so impressed me are Cultivo and Formaje. Cultivo has a slightly larger selection, with a more resolute focus on Spain. Both shops are champions of small producers and raw-milk cheese and do some affinage (cheese maturation) and tasting classes. (Book those well ahead.)

The enthusiastic and knowledgeable Jorge Diéguez was behind the counter at Cultivo when we visited. I finally had to say “uncle” or he would not have stopped giving me samples. I was particularly taken with Masiega, a raw sheep’s milk blue from near Valladolid, and Isla Corazón, a raw goat’s milk wheel from the Canary Islands. Importers, get on it!

At Formaje, the young cheesemonger barked at me—politely—when I picked up a wrapped cheese. No touching. This did not offend me in the least. I took it as a sign of how deeply management cares about protecting the product. We got another display of this shop’s high standards when the clerk demonstrated how she wraps only the cut faces of a wheel, never allowing plastic wrap to smother the rind. This is gold-standard cheese handling.

Monger mastery: Carlota Real shows the right way to wrap

Spain has so many more gorgeous cheeses to share with us than we currently get. I know nothing about the challenges involved, but I’m hoping that importers will consider expanding their Spanish portfolio in the years to come.

American Cheese Month is winding down but I hope your appetite is ramping up. You’re about to meet eight domestic cheeses deemed outstanding by the experts—two West Coast mongers who agreed to assemble a fantasy cheese plate for Planet Cheese readers. I requested “all American” and “not too obscure.” Even so, I don’t know a couple of these selections. So you may have to hunt for some of these cheeses, but at least you know you’ll be rewarded. Courtney Johnson, who created one of the plates, placed third in last year’s Mondial du Fromage, an international competition. Brandon Wood owns The Cheese Parlor, a four-year-old shop in downtown Livermore, California. Let’s see what they’re loving these days.

Cheesemonger: Courtney Johnson, Ph.D, ACS CCP and CCSE

Street Cheese
Seattle

“These five cheeses are on my list because they show the delightful diversity of cheeses available in the different corners of our country,” says Johnson. “I'd pair them with a local wildflower honey, some locally crafted candied hazelnuts or pecans, and a few slices of Chorizo El Rey from Olympia Provisions. Together, these five feel like a late-spring afternoon on the patio with no worries.”

Tea Rose/Capriole Goat Cheese (IN) (pictured above)
Pasteurized goat milk

Tea Rose (top photo) gets the party started with a combination of bright, tangy, floral and herbal tones.

Hidden Falls/Shepherd’s Way Farms (MN)
Pasteurized sheep milk

Hidden Falls adds rich, silken milkiness.

Alpha Tolman/Jasper Hill Farm (VT)
Raw cow milk

Griffin/Sweet Grass Dairy (GA)
Raw cow milk

Alpha Tolman and Griffin usher in the firmer textures from different angles: brothy and nutty Alpha Tolman, and then gently boozy and buttery Griffin.

Sawtooth/Cascadia Creamery (WA)
Raw cow milk

We round it all out with Sawtooth, bringing in a toothsome texture and gentle funk.

Cheesemonger: Brandon Wood

The Cheese Parlor
Livermore, CA
This young monger is shaking up the cheese scene in an underserved part of the San Francisco Bay Area. His sensory descriptions are evocative and his suggested pairings show thought.

Caspian / Jasper Hill Farm (VT)
Raw cow milk

A cow cheese (but feels like goat) that is like holding hands with cooked cream while walking through a foliage-filled forest with a side of mushrooms. Natural-rinded wonder with an inside that conjures the texture of marshmallows. Pair with Black Garlic Salami from Underground Meats.

Shabby Shoe/Blakesville Creamery (WI)
Pasteurized goat milk

 A bloomy-rinded Geotrichum roller coaster of flavor. Its cream line wraps around a semisoft center that lengthens the citrus zip and the tantalizing tang on the follow through. Try with Strawberry Habanero Pepper Jelly from Kelly's Jelly.

Grazing Girl / Valley Ford Creamery (CA)
Raw cow milk

A Gorgonzola-style creamy-filled dream. You feel the farmstead funk slip across the palate as the salt settles into your tongue and then you’re left with a subtle sweetness, the perfect finish to a well-rounded blue. Try with Triple Chocolate Almonds from Charles Chocolates.

American Cheese Month—that would be May—is your chance to show our nation’s cheesemakers how much you value what they do. Of course, our creameries need your business year-round but showcasing them this month reminds us how far we’ve come. Remember when American cheese was a laugh line? We now produce cheeses that compete (and win) on the world stage, and we can boast cheesemongers as knowledgeable and passionate as any in Europe. I reached out to four of those world-class American mongers and asked each of them to design a fantasy All-American Cheese Plate that you might be inspired to recreate at home. This week’s post features the selections of two East Coast mongers. Incredibly, out of all the potential choices, they had a cheese in common (pictured above). Next week, we’ll hear from the Left Coast.

Cheesemonger: Kate Arding

Talbott & Arding
Hudson, NY
Asked for a three-cheese plate, Arding chose five. I get that. Her selections and tasting notes:

Oma/Von Trapp Farmstead (VT)
Pasteurized cow’s milk

Washed-rind cheeses are one of my favorite categories and, with Oma, the skilled team at Von Trapp consistently delivers. Aromas of cultured butter draw you in, followed by decadent flavors of bacon, cream and grass enveloped in a rich, yielding texture.

Pleasant Ridge Reserve/ Uplands Cheese (WI)
Raw cow’s milk

Two young families bought this business from the founders in 2014 and have maintained the tradition of excellence in farming, animal husbandry and cheesemaking. The process for Pleasant Ridge is closely modeled after Beaufort. The cheese is made only in summer and only when conditions are optimal for cheese production. Like the best Alpine cheeses, flavors are deeply savory, rich and complex with a lingering finish.

Lake Breeze/ Blakesville Creamery (WI)
Pasteurized goat’s milk

This soft-ripened cheese is reminiscent of some of the best Loire Valley goat cheeses. Flavors are bright and citrusy up front, with a hint of minerality, cream and barnyard on the finish that leaves me reaching for more.

Sogn/Shepherd’s Way Farm (MN)
Pasteurized sheep’s milk

This semi-soft tomme-style cheese (upper image) is made by Jodi Ohlsen Read with milk from her own flock. Wheels are made by hand and showcase her rich sheep's milk. A rustic rind encases an interior paste that is cakey and buttery. Flavors are fresh, lactic and complex, balanced by a distinct earthiness from the rind.

Bayley Hazen Blue /Jasper Hill Farm (VT)
Raw cow’s milk

Bayley Hazen’s flavor reminds me of the best Colston Bassett Stilton. The texture is dense and slightly chocolatey with a creamy mouthfeel. Flavors are biscuity, saline and rich, with a long buttery finish, a hint of sweet apple, and a touch of minerality. It’s heaven with our Fruit & Nut Loaf or Seeded Honey.

Cheesemonger: Raymond Hook

Capella Cheese
Atlanta, GA
Hook’s picks and tasting notes:

Intergalatic/Perrystead Dairy (PA)
Pasteurized cow’s milk

They use thistle as their rennet for this soft-ripened cheese, like the Portuguese do. It becomes rich and soft, with bolder notes as it ages. It is a lovely cheese with a Geotrichum rind.

Bamboozle/Goat Rodeo Dairy (PA)
Pasteurized cow’s and goat’s milk

A beer-washed cheese from a creamery near Pittsburgh. The cheese is always in impeccable condition with a perfect red smear rind, soft and spongy. It has a complex palate with sweetness from the cow's milk, minerality from the goat's milk and slight funkiness from the washed rind.

Sogn/Shepherd’s Way Farms (MN)
Pasteurized sheep’s milk

A rustic aged tomme with a natural rind, a golden-white interior, slightly crumbly and a bit dry. This elegant cheese pairs well with white wine.

You never need an excuse to eat cheese, but May is a good time to show American-made cheeses some extra love. It’s American Cheese Month—that’s official—so I’ll be shining the spotlight for the next few weeks on some of our nation’s finest. To kick us off, I turned to Jenny Eastwood, who sells exclusively American cheese at Smallgoods Cheese Shop & Café, the business she operates in La Jolla, CA, with her husband, Mike. I’ve been alarmed by some recent developments –shops closing, creameries ceasing production—and wondered if the optimism I’ve long felt about the future of American artisan cheese is still warranted. Eastwood had some blunt and compelling thoughts about that so I’m giving her the floor.

It’s Tough Out There

By Jenny Eastwood, ACS CCP

The American cheese scene is fragile—more than most people realize. Since 2015, we’ve worked exclusively with small-batch American producers: sourcing, showcasing, selling and documenting their work. Our database now includes hundreds of U.S. cheeses—it’s likely one of the most extensive out there. Our café walls are lined with photos of them. Thankfully, many are still around but not all.

When a maker closes, we feel it immediately. Our entire menu is built on American products. When Central Coast Creamery retired, it hit hard. Most of our café/cheese shop’s best sandwiches use their cheeses as foundational elements. We don’t sell Turkey & Cheese sandwiches - we sell Cheese & Turkey sandwiches. And that’s no accident. And we’ve just experienced the same loss again – with Alemar. This isn’t abstract—it’s constant. These aren’t just cheeses in a case to us.

Specializing in American food adds a unique layer. You have to earn attention, trust and loyalty in a culture that still equates Europe with quality and American products with skepticism. Part of our day is spent undoing that bias—some of it earned, some of it outdated. Supporting American makers—and farming families like the one I come from—isn’t just business. It’s what we set out to do. If shops like ours don’t actively support these producers, who will?

Running an independent cheese shop today means facing challenges that didn’t exist years ago. The uncomfortable truth is that convenience wins. Not quality. Not story.

Online is instant. Supermarkets are easy. Delivery is expected. And price is always in play.

We’re not just competing on product—we’re competing against expectations and ease. A missed parking spot and people move on. Meanwhile, the marketplace keeps expanding but the dollar doesn’t. It fragments—across more brands, more competition, more noise. Small businesses can get lost in it all.

We spent five years building a loyal following in San Diego’s year-round regional farmers markets. Opening a brick-and-mortar was a reality check. Customers didn’t automatically follow. Suddenly, we became less convenient.

So what’s worked for us? Connection. It’s quite possibly the only advantage we have.

Relationships matter. Our core customers—the ones who get what we’re doing—are everything. For new customers, especially younger ones, it’s about experience. Let them taste something real. If they leave with a connection—to the food, the maker, or our judgy old dachshund on the couch—then we'll see them again.

We try to create moments that stick. Sometimes it feels that’s all we have and we always hope it’s enough.

Growth hasn’t meant scaling up. It’s meant narrowing in. Staying deliberate. Earning our place in the neighborhood. Protecting a niche that doesn’t tolerate excess. We’re not chasing quantity over quality. Our cheese case is intentionally small and we rotate often. It lets us highlight more makers and gives people a reason to see what’s new and explore their country’s offerings.

Support your local makers and your local shops. Support your Cheese Guilds. Show up to the festivals they host – they matter and they provide great learning opportunities that keep us focused and inspired.

We’re honest with our customers when they ask how things are going. The truth stings a bit—it’s tough out here. Where they choose to spend their money matters. Independent shops and the producers behind them don’t make it on good intentions. With independent shops, you’re not only buying for consumption. You’re buying for preservation.

I never had the chance to cook for my mom on Mother’s Day. From the age of 18, I lived more than 1,500 miles away. It’s too late now, but I’m certain these recipes would have pleased her (eating them, not cooking them). All five dishes have cheese in common—surprise!—but they’re light, quick to make and foolproof. If you have a mother or mother figure to cook for, grab an apron and seize the day.

Blueberry Ricotta Pancakes with Blueberry Maple Sauce

These are the pancakes I dream about. With no leavening other than beaten egg whites, they are almost souffle like.

Warm Bruschetta with Asparagus and Burrata

On the short list for best brunch dish ever. Plus, it’s adaptable. Replace the asparagus with roasted tomatoes in summer, roasted mushrooms in fall.

Frittata with Asparagus and Sheep Cheese

I originally developed this recipe using broccoli rabe, but you can sub asparagus pound for pound. Leftover frittata is something to hope for. Slice it for a sandwich the next day with caper mayo or aioli.

Hearts of Butter Lettuce with Pecorino and Fava Beans

Serve this delicate salad with grilled salmon or lamb chops. You’ll need a sheep cheese moist enough to shave, like this one or this one.

Ricotta Mousse with Bittersweet Chocolate, Pistachios, Almonds and Orange Peel

Because the best part of cannoli is the filling. You can put raspberries in the bottom of your serving glass and then dollop the mousse on top. Or you can decorate the top with raspberries. Or you can enjoy this perfect dessert just the way it is.

Finally, a French cheese to love at a price we can like. It’s been a while since I’ve bought artisan cheese from France without flinching at the checkout counter. Of course you can find affordable Brie and Camembert at the big-box stores, but these cheeses are typically industrial, with quality on par with their cost. This beauty is a distinctive raw cow’s milk tomme, with a rustic natural rind, abundant aroma and an uncommon “double-textured” interior. The reasonable price is just one more of its many admirable features.

Tomme Crayeuse (tohm cray-yuhz) is a modern creation, a collaboration between a prominent cheesemaker in the Savoie region and a respected affineur (cheese ager). Its back story—as recounted to me in an email from French affineur Laurent Mons —is peculiar. The cheese evolved from a mistake, a flawed batch too acidic to ripen properly. But as Mons told me, perhaps tongue in cheek, cheesemakers never discard their mistakes. They send them to the affineur to fix.

In this case, affineur Max Schmidhauser and his caves in Annecy did salvage the defective batch, transforming it into a cheese not only sellable but desirable. Tomme Crayeuse—the “chalky” tomme—debuted in 1997 and was successful enough that other creameries began to produce it as well.

The cheese I purchased recently was made by Fruitières Chabert, and their site says it’s raw milk. Mons told me that producers today use exclusively thermised or pasteurized milk. I can’t untangle those claims, but no matter. The Chabert cheese was terrific, rustic in appearance, with a thick, rippled, crusty rind and aromas of cave, mushrooms and broccoli. The interior was semifirm, open and tender, with a rich butter color. The flavor was earthy and highly savory with a pleasing acidity.

A chalky interior is not usually a feature I appreciate in cheese. But Tomme Crayeuse is intentionally brittle—not chalky exactly, but certainly more friable in the middle than the creamy layers under the rind. The high acidity impedes proteolysis, the protein breakdown that makes cheese creamy. Caerphilly has the same layer-cake quality.

Sue Sturman, an American expert on French cheese who translates the French trade magazine Professsion Fromager, sent me some background on Tomme Crayeuse. Affineurs achieve the unusual texture, in part, by aging the wheel in a warm, humid environment initially, then finishing it in a colder cave. Aging is a minimum of 60 days but what I sampled recently seemed older than that.

In the hands of a good affineur, Tomme de Savoie can be compelling, but I’m disappointed more often than not. Tomme Crayeuse, its kissing cousin, has not disappointed me yet. Be sure to bring it fully to room temperature. “Once it warms up, it becomes something to treasure,” says Helder dos Santos, a Chicago-area cheese judge and a Tomme Crayeuse fan.

Look for Tomme Crayeuse at these retailers:
California
Cheese Cave (Claremont)
Cheese Store of Beverly Hills
Davis Food Coop (Davis)
Gourmet Corner (San Mateo)
McCalls Meat & Fish (L.A. and Santa Monica)
Rainbow Grocery (SF)
Say Cheese (SF)
Sunshine Foods (St. Helena)
V. Sattui (St. Helena)
East Coast
Concord Cheese Shop (Concord, MA)
The Gourmet Shop (Columbia, SC)
Monger’s Palate (Brooklyn, NY)
Orrman’s Cheese Shop (Charlotte, NC)
Park Slope Food Co-op (Brooklyn)
Truckle Cheesemongers (Richmond, VA)
Van Hook Cheese & Grocery (Jersey City and Montclair, NJ)

Why is it so hard to find ricotta salata these days? This salted and pressed Italian sheep cheese used to be more present, and I almost always had some on hand for shaving into salads—especially spring salads with fava beans, asparagus or beets. It’s a must for pasta alla Norma but I grate it on pasta sauced every which way. It’s moister than pecorino romano so it makes the dish creamier. Now it is scarcer than it should be, given that it’s neither costly nor rare. I suspect retailers don’t appreciate its brief lifespan and end up throwing away a lot. (I have some thoughts about that.) The last time I asked for ricotta salata at a cheese counter, the clerk recommended mizithra instead. A helpful suggestion, but how similar are they?

Country of origin

Ricotta salata is a specialty of southern Italy, especially Puglia, although it’s now made all over Italy. Mizithra (or myzithra) is Greek and associated primarily with Crete, although it’s produced throughout the country.

What it is

The two recipes are largely alike. You start with whey left over from making a hard cheese. You add milk, heat it and soft curds float to the top. That’s ricotta. Then you drain, press, salt and age the ricotta until it’s firm enough to grate. Most of the ricotta salata and mizithra I find is made from sheep’s milk (or, more rarely, water buffalo milk) but creameries use all milk types. The typical format for ricotta salata is a small log or cone; a whole mizithra resembles a misshapen ball.

How it tastes

In my experience, ricotta salata is moister, less salty and less sharp than mizithra. You can shave it with a cheese plane and the slices don’t crumble. Mizithra is stronger in flavor, more peppery and too dry to shave. For shaving, Greek manouri is a better choice than mizithra. As a grating cheese for pasta, mizithra works, adding a sheepy, salty, slightly sourish flavor. Fun fact: Spaghetti with mizithra and browned butter is the most popular dish on the menu at Old Spaghetti Factory. But at my house, mizithra is rarely the top choice.

Retailers, please give us more ricotta salata. We pledge to use it more often, grated and shaved. We’ll store it wrapped in wax paper in a sealed container, and if it gets a little surface mold, we won’t freak out and complain to you. We’ll just scrape off the mold and carry on.

Below, a favorite spring recipe and more ideas for using ricotta salata when you encounter it.

In Memoriam
With deep sadness, I share news of the sudden passing of Rick Lafranchi. One of the kindest people in the cheese business, Rick was co-owner of California’s Nicasio Valley Cheese, a family business. With his cheesemaker brother, Scott, Rick introduced several farmstead cheeses, inspired by the family’s Italian-Swiss heritage, that have become cheese counter staples: Formagella, Tomino, Foggy Morning, San Geronimo. I’m glad he lived to see Nicasio Square take a blue-ribbon at last summer’s American Cheese Society awards. Rick was a greatly admired industry leader, a gentle soul who always had time for my questions and said yes to every request. He leaves a big hole in our American cheese family.

Golden Beet, Fennel and Avocado Salad with Ricotta Salata

Adapted from San Francisco: Authentic Recipes Celebrating the Foods of the World by Janet Fletcher (Oxmoor House).

• 8 medium beets, preferably golden or Chioggia beets

  Lemon vinaigrette:

• 3 tablespoons lemon juice

• ¼ cup finely minced shallot

• Kosher or sea salt

• ½ cup extra virgin olive oil

• 1 teaspoon Vietnamese fish sauce

• Freshly ground black pepper

• 1 large or 2 small fennel bulbs, stalks removed, halved

• Ricotta salata cheese

• 1 large avocado

• 2 tablespoons minced Italian parsley

Preheat the oven to 400°F. Remove the beet greens, if attached, leaving 1 inch of stem to avoid piercing the skin. Save the greens for another use. Put the beets in a baking dish with 1/4 inch of water. Cover and bake until a knife pierces them easily, about 1 hour. Peel when cool enough to handle, then set aside to cool completely.

Make the vinaigrette: In a small bowl, combine the lemon juice, shallot and a generous pinch of salt. Let stand 30 minutes to allow the shallot flavor to mellow. Whisk in the olive oil and fish sauce. Season with pepper. Taste and adjust the seasoning.

Slice the beets very thinly by hand. Put them in a bowl and toss them gently with about one-third of the dressing, taking care not to break up the slices. Make a bed of the beets on a large platter.

With a mandoline or V-slicer, slice the fennel paper thin. Put the fennel in a bowl and dress with about one-half of the remaining dressing, then scatter the fennel over the beets.

With a vegetable peeler or cheese plane, shave ricotta salata over the fennel, using as much as you like. I use about 3 ounces.

With a large metal spoon, scoop the flesh of the avocado half from the peel in one piece. Put the avocado half cut side down on a work surface and slice thinly crosswise. Arrange the avocado slices attractively on top of the salad. Drizzle with as much of the remaining dressing as desired (you may not need it all), then top with the minced parsley. Serve immediately.

Serves 8

I went a little crazy at the cheese counter the other day and came home with more than I usually buy at one time. So, at the end of a simple dinner that night, Doug and I had an over-the-top cheese course. Miraculously, we had the same favorite. A new import from Spain, it had all the features I seek: captivating aroma, pleasing texture, proper salting. That it played well with the red wine on the table earned it some more points. I’m excited to introduce you to this unusual newcomer and try to build its U.S. fan club.

Years ago, when I was on the San Francisco Chronicle food staff, the food section had a young intern named Andy Lax. After his internship, Lax took a sales job with a new Northern California cheese distributor and helped that company, Fresca Italia, grow. Lax now lives in Madrid and Fresca Italia’s portfolio is slowly starting to include some of his Spanish finds. Pata de Mulo is one such discovery, matured in the cellars of Cultivo, a highly regarded Madrid cheese shop with affinage expertise.

Several creameries produce Pata de Mulo (“mule’s leg”), a traditional sheep cheese from the area around León. The one imported by Fresca Italia is from Praizal, a family farm and creamery. Pilar Blanco makes the cheese with her nephew; her brothers provide the raw sheep’s milk. They milk Assaf sheep, a prized Israeli breed that is becoming established in this region of Spain.

The cheese’s whimsical name refers to its shape—a flattened log weighing about 4 pounds. You’ve seen this format before. Patacabra, from goat’s milk, has the same peculiar shape, produced by gentle pressing. A thick slice is eye-catching on a cheese board.

Cultivo babysits the cheese for two to four months, and whatever they’re doing, I hope they keep doing it. The natural rind is thin and handsome, with a riot of multicolored molds. The pale ivory interior has small openings and a delicate mushroom and cave aroma. I love the texture—tender and creamy—and the subtle flavor of nuts and artichoke.

Oh, to live in Spain where this fabulous cheese costs about $12 a pound. Here you will likely pay closer to $40 a pound—a hefty tab but worth it to experience such expert craftsmanship.

Look for Pata de Mulo at these California retailers: Market Hall Foods (Oakland), Milkfarm (Los Angeles), Oliver’s (Santa Rosa area). Paradise Pantry (Ventura), Sunshine Foods (St. Helena) and V. Sattui (St. Helena).

And now for some bad news: We have lost another American artisan cheese producer and another independent cheese shop.

Keith Adams, proprietor of Alemar Cheese and Wm Cofield Cheesemakers, announced recently that he is ceasing operations. Adams launched Alemar Cheese in Minnesota in 2009 but moved production a couple of years ago to Sonoma County, California, where he was making Cheddar under the Wm Cofield brand. Alemar’s Bent River was a popular Camembert-style cheese, and I admired it, but his McKinley Cheddar never quite got traction.

Covid was the turning point, Adams told me. “The way I grew Alemar was demo-ing a lot, and with Covid there was no more demo-ing.” Even today, says Adams, Covid’s impact persists in “fewer mongers, less excitement about new things and a general gravitation toward cheeses that can be Cryovac’d.”

Equally troubling is the closure of DTLA Cheese, a much-admired Los Angeles merchant. In a tearful Instagram reel, proprietor Lydia Clarke and chef Reed Herrick said the 12-year-old shop’s last day is April 17. “We have reached the point where we have to close the doors,” they wrote in an accompanying post. They didn’t offer any specifics, but I can only imagine that in a city with high rents and labor costs, you have to sell a boatload of cheese to pay the bills.

The notion that cheeses have seasons is less valid than it used to be, but springtime still says goat cheese to me. On small French farms run the traditional way, goats give birth in early spring. Once the kids are weaned, there’s abundant milk for cheese—for all those delicate fresh chèvres and, a few weeks later, lightly aged creations like the one pictured above. Breeding advances and sophisticated aging rooms have altered this pattern, but I still associate the warming weather with creamy, tangy goat cheese. And any day now, wineries will begin releasing their 2025 Sauvignon Blancs and rosés—the ideal chèvre companions. Add a baguette and a handful of olives and your cheese course is done.

La Fromagerie P. Jacquin, the 80-year-old creamery behind the lovely Bûche de Luçay (above), specializes in goat cheeses in the Loire Valley style—mostly small format with ashed rinds or bloomy rinds. For French customers they make the raw-milk classics like Valençay and Sainte-Maure de Touraine; for the U.S. they send pasteurized adaptations. In my experience, Jacquin cheeses are exceedingly well made and usually manage to survive the voyage in good shape. The Tommne de Chèvre Grandmère Adrienne is a particular favorite.

Bûche de Luçay (say lew-sigh) resembles the more familiar Bucheron, which former cheesemonger Steven Jenkins, in his pioneering Cheese Primer, claimed was one of the first French chèvres to be exported to the U.S. He scorned it, describing it as mass produced and made with frozen curd. I was surprised to learn that Montchevre, a Wisconsin producer with French roots, has a registered trademark for Bucheron, which is now produced in Wisconsin. Perhaps that is why Jacquin has chosen to name its bûche (log) after a nearby village. It is made with fresh goat milk and hand-ladled curd, as you can see in this short video.

Just look at that softening Geotrichum rind and the oozy cream line underneath it. That’s what you want. The specimen in the upper image was quite ripe and the rind was starting to slip; even so, the interior wasn’t peppery. My notes call out the mushroom scent, tender rind, light texture and mild non-goaty flavor.

“It’s a shame that the period of most prolific production does not coincide with the period of greatest demand,” wrote famed French cheesemonger Roland Barthélémy in his Cheeses of the World. “You eat far more cheese in winter than when the weather is fine.”

Let’s work on that, folks.

Bûche de Luçay is widely available. Here’s a partial retail list.

This is the cheese of my childhood. What memories! The one-and-only choice for Mom’s mac and cheese, her whole cauliflower baked with cheese sauce and her oozy grilled cheese sandwiches (on Wonder Bread, no less). It’s so supple, and it melts like a dream. It was the only cheese in our fridge unless company was coming. On those occasions Mom traded up to Cracker Barrel. Artisan cheeses have come and gone, but this icon persists, celebrating a century in production in 2018. Sales were lagging until Covid but now are reportedly strong. You don’t need me to tell you this cheese should be a kitchen staple. Could so many Americans be wrong?

Just kidding, people. It’s April 1, after all. Alas, the preceding paragraph is true except for the implication that Velveeta is cheese. It is not. It’s a “pasteurized prepared cheese product,” according to the FDA. Growing up with it did me no harm and possibly set the stage for my eventual cheese awakening.

This first day of April is also the first night of Passover. To those who celebrate, happy holidays. You don’t have to be Jewish to love matzo brei, the Passover dish I crave most. Here’s my favorite (unconventional) way to make it.

Matzo Brei with Asparagus and Cheese

For me, the ideal matzo brei has some crusty, browned bits interspersed with creamy egg. Cook on medium-high if you want more crunchy parts or on medium-low if you prefer the dish softer and creamier.

• 6 asparagus spears

• 3 sheets of matzo

• 4 large eggs

• 2 tablespoons chopped fresh dill, plus more for garnish

• Scant 1/2 teaspoon salt

• Freshly ground black pepper

• 4 green onions, white and pale green parts only, thinly sliced

• 2/3 cup (about 2 ounces) grated cheese, such as Point Reyes Toma, Cheddar or other good melting cheese

• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter

Bend the asparagus spears in both hands until they snap at the point where the spears become tough; discard the tough ends. Remove the pretty tips, then slice the remainder on the diagonal about ½ inch wide. Bring a pot of salted water to a boil and prepare an ice bath. Boil the asparagus for 2 minutes, then drain and immediately chill in the ice water. Drain again and pat dry.

Bring a tea kettle of water to a boil. Break the matzo into smaller pieces, roughly 12 pieces per sheet. They don’t need to be identical. Put them in a sieve set over the sink. Slowly pour the boiling water over the matzo, tossing the pieces with a spatula until they are all well moistened. Let stand for about 5 minutes.

Beat the eggs in a large bowl with the dill, salt and pepper. Whisk in the green onions, the asparagus and the cheese. Stir in the softened matzo and toss with a spatula until it absorbs all or most of the egg and all the ingredients are well distributed.

Heat a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add the butter and swirl to coat. When the butter foams and begins to smell nutty, add the egg mixture, spreading it evenly. Let it cook without stirring for about 30 seconds so it browns on the bottom, then flip the mixture and begin to break it up with a spatula. Lower the heat if necessary to prevent over-browning. Cook as you would for scrambled eggs, stirring and flipping until all the egg is cooked to your taste. Divide among 2 plates, garnish with chopped dill and serve immediately.

Serves 2 generously

Doug and I were watching a favorite Italian cooking show the other night when I practically started hyperventilating. “No!” I shouted at the screen, as the Michelin-starred chef prepared to serve up his pasta. “Don’t do it! Don’t do it! You just RUINED the dish.” I couldn’t believe my eyes. The chef was spooning spaghetti with squid sauce into a hollowed-out round of cheese.

I’m not Italian but I’m firmly on board with the Italian prohibition against fish with cheese. I have no clue why this pairing is taboo, but the wrongness is so deeply ingrained in me that I don’t question it. Until I do. The chef’s transgression got me thinking about the times that I actually enjoy fish with cheese, because every rule has an exception, no? I came up with three.

Number One: Bagels with smoked salmon and cream cheese

These days I’m more likely to schmear Snøfrisk or Madame Loïk or Gina Marie Farmer Cheese on a bagel—they’re all lighter than cream cheese—but then I pile on the smoked salmon with no second thoughts. Yes, please, to fish with cheese.

Number Two: Caesar salad

Of course this classic makes the list. I would never — never – grate Parmigiano Reggiano on pasta with anchovies, but a Caesar salad without cheese and anchovies is likewise unthinkable. Go figure.

Number Three: Saganaki

A beloved Greek meze and one of my all-time favorites, saganaki makes the best case for seafood with cheese. Shrimp, tomatoes, feta, ouzo…it’s an unimpeachable combination, and the sharp brininess of feta is key. Indeed, it’s the only cheese that would work. Greek cooks also prepare saganaki with mussels, and I’m all in with that, too.

Shrimp Saganaki

Feta makes the tomato sauce creamy, but the splash of ouzo is the mystery flavor. The recipe is from Marmite Cooking Lab, a delightful cooking school in Thessaloniki where I took a class from owner Smaragda Makri. Serve with crusty bread or stir in some plump cooked white beans (such as Greek gigandes) before serving. 

• 1 dozen large shell-on shrimp (about ½ pound)

• Kosher or sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

• 4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

• 1 small red onion or ½ large red onion, chopped

• 1 fresh green Anaheim chile, halved lengthwise, seeded, then sliced crosswise

• 2 large cloves garlic, minced

• ½ serrano chili, minced (adjust to taste)

• 1-1/2 cups chopped fresh or canned plum tomato

• Pinch baking soda, optional

• ¼ cup ouzo, Pernod or Pastis

• 3 to 4 ounces crumbled Greek feta

• 2 tablespoons chopped Italian parsley

Season the shrimp all over with salt and pepper and set aside.

Heat 2 tablespoons of the olive oil in a large, heavy Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the onion and sauté until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the Anaheim chile, garlic and as much serrano chile as you like. Cook, stirring, until the vegetables are soft, 3 to 5 minutes longer. Add the tomatoes, ½ cup water and a generous pinch of salt and pepper. Bring to a simmer and cook until the sauce is thickened and tasty. If it seems too tart, add a pinch of baking soda and cook for 1 minute; baking soda will mellow the tomato sauce noticeably.

In a large skillet over medium-high heat, heat the remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil. Add the shrimp and cook for about 2 minutes on both sides, until almost done. Add the ouzo and cook, turning once, until the shrimp are hot throughout, about 1 minute. Transfer the shrimp and any pan juices to the tomato sauce, along with feta and parsley. Cover and set aside to cool a bit. Serve warm, not hot.

Serves 2 to 3

Temps are supposed to hit 90°F this week in Napa Valley, where I live, and it’s still technically winter. Forecasters say many states may experience record-smashing heat over the next few days. My advice: yogurt. I don’t have much appetite for cheese in hot weather, but yogurt salads and chilled yogurt soups have a lot of appeal. Yogurt is cool, tart and refreshing, and we know it’s good for us. But here’s a funny thing I’ve noticed lately about yogurt: Producers used to highlight how little fat their yogurt had. Now they boast about the opposite.

With full-fat dairy products getting more love from nutritionists these days, I’m seeing yogurt brands proudly declaring their elevated fat content on the label. One brand even has a QR code on the package so you can look up the milk’s fat content when the yogurt was made. Let’s hear it for full-fat yogurt, the best choice for these favorite recipes from Yogurt: Sweet and Savory Recipes for Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner by Janet Fletcher (Ten Speed Press).

Cucumber Salad with Yogurt, Golden Raisins, Walnuts, and Mint

Cucumber and yogurt salad (pictured above) is part of the repertoire in every yogurt-eating country, but for me the star recipe is this one. I love the burst of sweetness from the raisins, the crunch of walnuts, the coolness of mint. The salad complements grilled lamb, or you could serve it as part of a meze assortment with flatbread. I like to use the crisp, thin-skinned, nearly seedless Persian cucumbers that are about six inches long. Najmieh Batmanglij, the author of several Persian cookbooks that I admire, garnishes her version of this salad with dried rose petals.

I like the salad to have a thicker, creamier texture than I can get from plain yogurt alone, so I add a little Greek yogurt for extra body.

• 1/4 cup golden raisins

• 2 cups plain whole-milk yogurt

• 1 cup Greek yogurt (not nonfat)

• 1 to 2 cloves garlic, grated or finely minced

• 1 tablespoon chopped fresh dill, plus more for garnish

• 1 teaspoon finely minced fresh mint

• Kosher or sea salt

• 2 cups diced Persian or English hothouse cucumber (no need to peel)

• 1/3 cup coarsely chopped toasted walnuts

Put the raisins in a small bowl, add water to barely cover, and let plump for at least 1 hour. Drain.

In a large bowl, whisk together the yogurts, garlic, dill, mint, and salt to taste. Add the raisins, cucumbers, and walnuts. Stir well, then taste and adjust the seasoning. Serve immediately, garnished with more chopped dill; or cover and refrigerate for up to 1 hour. If you want to hold the salad longer, leave the walnuts out initially and add them just before serving to preserve their crunch.
Serves 4 to 6

Chilled Avocado and Yogurt Soup with Tomato Salsa

All the flavors of guacamole meet up in this creamy soup, with yogurt adding body and refreshment. Serve with pita chips or tortilla chips.

• 2 large avocados, ripe but firm

• 1-1/2 cups buttermilk

• 1-1/2 cups plain whole-milk yogurt

• 2 heaping tablespoons chopped cilantro

• 1 large clove garlic, thinly sliced

• 1/2 serrano or jalapeño chile, seeds removed for less heat if desired, or more to taste

• 1/2 teaspoon toasted and ground cumin

• 1 tablespoon fresh lime juice

• Kosher or sea salt

Salsa:

• 1 large plum (Roma) tomato, halved lengthwise, seeded, in ¼-inch dice

• 1/4 cup finely minced white onion

• 2 heaping tablespoons chopped cilantro

• 1/2 serrano or jalapeño green chile, seeds removed for less heat if desired, finely minced

• 1 small clove garlic, finely minced

• Kosher or sea salt

• Lime juice

Halve and pit the avocados. Set aside one-half avocado for the salsa. Put the remaining avocado flesh in a blender with the buttermilk, yogurt, cilantro, garlic, chile, and cumin. Blend until smooth. Taste and add more chile if desired, then blend again. Transfer to a bowl and stir in enough cold water to thin the soup to a pleasing consistency, about ½ cup. Stir in 1 tablespoon lime juice, or more to taste, and season with salt. Chill thoroughly.

Just before serving, prepare the salsa: In a bowl, stir together the tomato, onion, cilantro, chile, and garlic. Cut the reserved avocado half in ¼-inch-dice and fold it in gently, then season to taste with lime juice and salt and stir again gently to avoid mashing the avocado.

If the soup has thickened in the refrigerator, whisk in ice water to thin it to the desired consistency. Taste for seasoning. Divide among 6 bowls. Top each serving with a spoonful of salsa and serve.
Serves 6

People often ask me about the cheeses I buy at Trader Joe’s, the emporium famous for its bargains. Alas, the list is short. I buy my feta there—the store’s private-label Greek feta is excellent—but I’m rarely tempted by anything else in the cheese department. The crackers, however! I have fallen hard for TJ’s seedy Norwegian crispbread. These crunchy, grainy flatbreads are so good with fresh, spreadable cheeses—whipped feta, for one—and they make it easy to produce a platter of colorful crostini in minutes. Do you have a Persian cucumber in the fridge, or a handful of radishes, or some cherry tomatoes or even half of a roasted beet or some leftover cooked chard? Then let the improv begin. These two-bite crostini complement my preferred aperitivo and I can easily dispatch a half-dozen for lunch.

For the crostini pictured above I used Norwegian Snøfrisk but I often use ricotta, whipped feta or another fresh, rindless cheese. You can find some of my favorite fresh cheeses here. For whipped feta, just put a crumbled block in the food processor and pulse with enough extra virgin olive oil to make it creamy. Use Greek feta or French Valbreso, please; goat or cow feta won’t do.

I rummaged through the fridge and pantry for the toppings: some reheated chard with garlic; roasted golden beets with dukkah; and shaved cucumber with a few shakes of tajín.

Some other options:

• Avocado

• Roasted peppers

• Roasted cherry tomatoes

• Green onions

• Sliced olives

• Onion jam

• Prosciutto

• Pickled peperoncini

• Microgreens

I can hardly wait for fava bean season. A few sauteed fava beans and grated lemon zest on flatbread with fresh cheese will make the most beautiful crostini ever.

I made fresh ricotta last week for the first time in months and was reminded how easy it is. Forty minutes start to finish. I was admiring my handiwork at breakfast the next day when my husband said, “Too bad it’s not sheep milk.” Well, yeah. Until we move to Italy (not gonna happen), I’ll have to make our ricotta with cow’s milk, but I’ll enjoy every bite. The result is tender and sweet, and if you want to try your hand at it, you can find the recipe here and a video demo below. But ricotta produced the Italian way, with rich sheep’s milk, is the benchmark for me and—glory be—I just found some in San Francisco.

It's from Busti, a Tuscan producer, makers of the mixed-milk Morbidoso di Toscana that I raved about last summer. The producer calls it Ricottina, probably because it is small, about 8 ounces. You’ll demolish it in no time.

I found the Busti Ricottina (top image, with honey and poppy seeds) at Rainbow Grocery, where it’s available sporadically. Milk Farm in Los Angeles and Sunshine Foods in St. Helena also carry it when the distributor has some. It has the lifespan of a snow cone so it’s a challenge for shops. I love its moist, delicate yet sliceable texture and the slightly gamy flavor that confirms it’s from sheep milk.

In my dreams, we will one day have enough dairy sheep in this country to make sheep ricotta a cheese counter staple. I may not live long enough. In the meantime, a good domestic cow’s milk ricotta (such as Bellwether Farms or Calabro Hand-Dipped will work in any of the following recipes and is what I used for testing. I hope these dishes—all personal favorites—bring some new flavors to your table in the weeks to come.

Whipped Ricotta Board

Express yourself with the toppings for this shareable antipasto.

Star Bread with Feta, Ricotta and Mint

Practice now so you’re ready for Easter.

Baked Ricotta-Stuffed Zucchini

A favorite Calabrian recipe for zucchini on the small side.

Ricotta Mousse with Bitttersweet Chocolate, Pistachios and Candied Orange

Think of it as cannoli without the shell.

Caramel Ricotta Flan

A make-ahead dessert for spring dinner parties

One of the biggest hits in my World Cheese Tour class last week was Deer Creek’s Imperial Buck, a four-year-old bandaged Cheddar from Wisconsin. It was so creamy, so mellow, so well balanced between savory and sweet. My experience with traditional bandaged Cheddars is that they rarely improve after 18 to 24 months. They start to dry out and lose their allure. How did this cheese manage to stay so moist and inviting for so long?

Well, I now know the answer, more or less. An unconventional aging method explains this wheel’s impressive lifespan. Comparing Imperial Buck to a fine clothbound English Cheddar is “apples to oranges,” but we can still admire the qualities that the American maturing method produces.

To be clear, Deer Creek doesn’t make any cheese. Company founder Chris Gentine is a licensed cheese grader, so he knows a good wheel when he tastes one, and he’s a genius marketer. Deer Creek contracts with others to make cheese, and then Gentine determines which batches to release young and which might benefit from extended aging. Kerry Henning, a Wisconsin Master Cheesemaker, made the wheel I served in class last week—a wheel born November 11, 2021.

Until I encountered Imperial Buck, I thought Cheddars were either bandaged (with cheesecloth) and matured with access to air, or they were aged without air in sealed bags. Many connoisseurs would say that aerobic aging yields more complexity, but it’s labor intensive to manage the rind that develops. Rinds have to be monitored and brushed to control mold, and the cheeses have to be regularly flipped.

Bag aging is easier but slower. There’s no rind to fuss over, and no back-breaking flipping. Moisture stays in (and moisture is money). What’s more, vacuum-sealed Cheddars can hang in the cellar for a year, three years, even a decade. They transform at a snail’s pace.

For Imperial Buck, Henning and Gentine chose a hybrid approach that’s more common in Wisconsin than I knew. The 22-pound wheels are wrapped in cheesecloth, then waxed. The wax is more permeable than a bag, but it likewise inhibits mold and rind development and slows moisture loss. Before it goes into the cellar, the waxed wheel is nestled in a poplar box, like a giant hatbox, to preserve humidity.

Initially I couldn’t understand why you would wax a bandaged Cheddar. Do you want the air or don’t you?

“Wisconsin Cheddar makers love doing this,” says Gordon Edgar, cheese buyer for San Francisco’s Rainbow Grocery and the author of Cheddar: A Journey to the Heart of America’s Most Iconic Cheese. And he is persuaded that waxing a bandaged Cheddar enables a distinctive flavor trajectory. “I have a 5-year Red Barn on our counter that is also made this way,” says Edgar, “and it absolutely ages differently than a Cryovac Cheddar or a more traditional clothbound like Monty's.

Sophie Gentine, Chris’s daughter and herself a licensed grader, told me that her dad talks about flavor “leapfrogging.” A Cheddar that underwhelms at 24 months may render you speechless two years later. “It’s the weird magic of cheese,” says Sophie. “Those flavors just compress. The butter flavors become more like butterscotch, the caramel becomes more toffee.”

Like many popular American Cheddars, Imperial Buck veers to the sweet side. It is nutty and caramelly, not grassy and tangy, thanks largely to Gentine’s choice of cultures. Let it sit on your tongue to experience its creaminess. A malty brown ale or Belgian-style abbey ale complements its toasty notes. Add some sturdy bread, pickles and hard-cooked eggs for a perfect ploughman’s lunch.

Although igourmet appears to be temporarily out of stock, the online merchant does typically offer it. Ask to be notified when it’s back in stock. It’s also currently available in California at Andrew’s Cheese in Santa Monica and Smallgoods in La Jolla and will soon be available at Sunshine Foods in St. Helena.