Something Tasty: A cheese pairing to try

Sofia

When it comes to goat cheeses with lines of ash (not lines of blue mold like many think, that’s right- Humboldt Fog is not a blue cheese), you might be used to seeing only one line through the middle of a stark white paste.

Enter Sofia from Capriole Goat Cheese in Greenville, Indiana. As you can see, it has not one, but two lines of ash, making it instantly recognizable on a cheese board.

It starts out light and delicate after a quick two week ripening period, and becomes creamier and denser as it ages. The one above was wonderfully dense and fudgy, so probably closer to the 5-7 week mark.

Something True: A truth about myself

New Beginnings

Here’s the truth.

Life has been life-ing, and work and travel have kept me from writing this newsletter.

Kind of. There has been a lot of resistance to write about this, probably because the world feels like it’s moving so fast right now, and writing this would force me to slow down and take it all in.

A not-so-secret reason I love to host my workshops and tastings and emphasize slowing down and being in the moment, is because I need a lot of help doing it myself.

Last time I spoke about The Hay Fire, and I mentioned it has been on my mind a lot lately. Let me tell you why.

My roommate/bff Andrew and I lived together for twelve years. YES. TWELVE YEARS.

Two of those years were in college at Penn State, the last ten were in Brooklyn. And three of us (me, Andrew, and Sean) have lived together for five of those.

Among many other milestones, under the same roof we turned 21, graduated from college, lived through family births and deaths, entered our 30’s, started and ended many jobs and romantic relationships, and got through covid.

Andrew moved out September 30th.

The last month has been the end of the biggest era I’ve had, and adjusting to a new normal. We always knew it had to happen, but I can’t tell you how many times over the past decade we’ve made jokes/not jokes about “whenever we don’t live together” and then inevitably one of us would start tearing up so we’d say something silly and pretend like the day would never come.

I’ve spent two weeks trying to think of a poetic way to relate how most people are used to seeing one line of ash in cheese, but this is one with two lines, and how Andrew and I were used to operating on the same line, and now we are on two separate lines. But this silly paragraph is the best I can do, I think you get what I’m going for.

This is me, in real time, releasing the expectation I put on myself to compose the Great Opus of a newsletter that would perfectly encapsulate and be the greatest tribute to our friendship and time living together. Because…that’s a lot to put on a newsletter.

The beautiful thing though, is that the two lines are a part of the same cheese. And this specific cheese cannot exist without both of them side by side.

My dad wasn’t afraid of the hay fire anymore, because it was happening. We can’t be afraid of not living together anymore, because that’s our current reality.

So what I know for certain right now is:

Nothing, actually. I don’t know anything right now. And that’s completely okay. And…

Maybe it’s me, maybe it’s the moon, maybe it’s Maybelline, maybe it’s the election (it’s mostly probably that). But there is definitely a mass feeling of anticipating a huge unknown. Sure, on a national scale, but on personal ones too.

We all know endings are new beginnings, so wherever you are right now, and wherever this country is going, we are all entering a new beginning. Together.

Farm to Fable: How food shows up in storytelling 

Potatoes and Molasses in Over the Garden Wall

If you’ve never seen Over the Garden Wall before, please cozy up and watch it. It’s brilliant, and perfect for this time of year. It’s inspired by Dante’s Inferno and the tale of two brothers trying to find their way home. The music is enchanting, it’s visually beautiful, the writing is hilarious, and it’s all as deep as you’ll let it be.

This unhinged song “Potatoes and Molasses” will make absolutely no sense out of context…but it doesn’t make much sense within the story either. That’s why it’s so silly.

Andrew’s coming over tomorrow to make snacks and hang and watch this, and it’s gonna be a silly time…and also exactly as deep as we’ll let it be.

Until next time,

Anne-Marie

P.S. - Sunday Scaries

A terrifying AI image to help us all rest knowing AI bots could never replace a real human artist:

This week the prompt was “Potatoes and Molasses moving out the Big Cheese” I didn’t give it any help, or explain myself. But I will not explain myself to AI. Enjoy this photo of nothing?

www.annemariepietersma.com