from FoRk to fork journeys in local food
Sweet dreams in dairyland
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Sweet Dreams in Dairyland
QQ It’s the liquid gold of our lush landscape Manon Steffan Ros travels through green pastures and meets the people that turn milk into something more. Words Manon Steffan Ros Photography Iestyn Hughes
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“It is a family business - Sam and Rachel Holden use the milk produced by Sam’s father’s cattle herd to create their cheese.”
S
omehow, through a kind trick of fate, the stars have aligned and I have won the lottery of luck. It’s a sunny Wednesday in spring, and I am going to be eating cheese, ice cream, and staying in a lovely hotel. I can hardly believe it! And actually, for a while, I don’t believe it – but gradually, I realise that it really is happening. I will spend two days visiting producers and sellers of dairy products. And that is how the photographer Iestyn Hughes and I find ourselves putting our faith in the sat nav through the winding roads of Carmarthenshire. Credit where it’s due – the matronly voice leads us straight to Bwlchwernen Fawr Farm, home of Hafod Cheddar. It is a family business – Sam and Rachel Holden use the milk produced by Sam’s father’s cattle herd to create their cheese. The farm is situated on high ground that looks out onto the gentle patchwork countryside, and it feels wonderfully remote. After donning our protective clothing – hair net, wellies and a white coat – Rachel leads us into the room where the cheese is made. Rachel is reserved and softly-spoken, explaining apologetically that they are busy, and would we mind if she and Sam get on with the cheese-making as we chat? Sam is sloshing a huge tub of milk with a large paddle, back and forth, over and over. The process of turning milk
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into cheese has begun, but to me, it looks as though a load of scrambled eggs has been tipped into a huge bath of milk. With an easy smile, Sam explains the process of making cheese, adding a bit of his own history. When he mentions that he used to live in London, I can’t imagine it – he fits so perfectly here, and as he begins to separate the curds and whey, he looks as if he’s always been doing this. He tells us that this is how they would have made cheese a hundred years ago, before huge blocks of cheddar were produced for supermarket shelves. The cheese-making is surprisingly tactile – Rachel runs her fingers through the milk quietly, rhythmically, and later, after draining the whey, Sam wraps the cheese in cloth as gentle as a father tucking his child into bed. Fervour and passion – that is what drives Sam and Rachel. Though she leaves most of the talking to her husband, there is a lovely stillness and serenity to Rachel, and a peaceful contentedness as she works with the cheese. As Sam shows us the huge, cave-like room where the cheddar is matured, and points out the pretty patterns of the mould on the outside of the cheese, Sam is like an artist showing off his paintings. (Admittedly, the mould is captivatingly beautiful – some cheeses look like the surface of the moon, and others like tree bark.) As we drive away from Bwlchwernen Fawr, Iestyn stops the car to take a photo, and the only sound that can be heard
Sweet Dreams in Dairyland
are the songbirds and a few fat bees buzzing between the wildflowers. This is beautiful country, and the way Sam and Rachel make their cheese shows it the utmost respect. Our next destination is Teifi Cheese, a business that was started in 1983. Once again, there is a homely family feel to Glynhynod Farm outside Ffostrasol, with childrens’ bikes on the grass outside the large room where the cheese is made. Clothes dance in the breeze on the washing line. John Savage-Onstwedder, who greets Iestyn and I, is a tall man with piercing eyes and firm, powerful voice. As he leads us around the farm, he occasionally pauses and looks directly into my eyes before making passionate statements, like: “There is nothing new about organic!” After half an hour in his company, I am utterly convinced about the benefits of raw milk (i.e. unpasteurised). Teifi Cheese produces gouda and cheddar, some of which have added ingredients (Pavarotti was a fan of the seaweed cheese). They have won countless awards, and are consistently popular and it’s easy to see why – the cheese has a strong, creamy flavour, a million miles from rubbery supermarket cheeses.
It would be rude to refuse John’s offer of a tour around his other business – Dà Mhìle distillery. It produces an array of organic spirits, and the huge copper distiller in the centre of the building (which is powered by firewood) is impossibly pretty. After leading us into a cold, dark room full of casks, John pulls out a stopper from a cask of apple brandy – “Take a sniff in there!” The smell is sweet and thick and wonderful. A tasting gallery will open in a room above the distillery in the next few weeks, and John leads us into the bright, warm space. The sun throws its light over the tasteful furniture and the wooden beams on the ceiling. Thought-provoking paintings line the walls, and, again, John becomes animated as we discuss the skill of the artist or the originality of the idea. And then, he gets out the gin. Only a tiny amount, just to taste – but John insists that we taste it properly. Firstly, we must smell it (“It reminds me of the smell of flowers along a small country road” says Iestyn, and he’s right – the smell of long-ago summers, when the sun always shone). Then the all-important tasting. Good gracious! It is spectacular. I can taste all the ingredients, every herb
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and flower. For a few seconds, I am silent, and John looks at me with a small smile – he knows that he’s found a new customer. The next stop is our home for the night – Hammet House hotel in Llechryd. As soon as I see the menu that evening in the hotel restaurant, it is clear that we’re in for a feast. As well as the high standard and originality of the food we have ordered, small titbits are served between courses (I shall never forget that perfect chip with the line of black, pearly caviar smeared on it). As we eat, I think of all the times I eat without considering the taste, the look. The chef, Matt Smith, has crafted the meal beautifully, a celebration of produce and taste. Then, the smiling waitress brings a cheese board to our table, and though I proclaim that I couldn’t possibly eat another morsel, I almost immediately tuck in. All the cheeses are local, and each has its own individual flavour and character. These cheeses have not been selected because they’re Welsh: it’s because they’re of the highest standard. Something odd happens to me as I read the list of cheeses, a peculiar feeling as I read Teifi Cheese and Hafod Cheese. I remember Sam and Rachel in Bwlchwernen Fawr,
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and John in Glynhynod Farm, and feel glad and a little proud that the fruit of their labour and passion are given starring roles in this esteemed restaurant. I feel loyalty, and above all, I have utmost respect – to the producers for creating something wonderful, and to the restaurant for giving them a platform. I should be worried that I’ll have nightmares after all that cheese, but somehow, I think I’ll be alright... The next morning, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and after last night’s feast, I look... well... pregnant. Four months, at least. I decide to skip breakfast. The thing is, they serve baked borlotti beans with chorizo, roasted tomatoes, thyme and maple syrup. I eat it all, as well as toast and home-made yogurt. Then I go back up to my bedroom to change into something loose fitting. Our first stop today is ultracomida, a cafe and deli in Narberth (there is another branch in Aberystwyth). Everything is so pretty here! Honey, nuts, huge bottles of olive oil, chocolate, wine and beer. In the back, the cafe is busy – a few people reading the paper over steaming cups of coffee, a group of friends enjoying brunch and a chat. The main attraction is a wide selection of cheeses
Sweet Dreams in Dairyland
available in the shop. The shelves are loaded with the golden discs of cheese, and the lovely sharp smell mingles with the scent of ham, sugar and coffee. There are soft, creamy cheeses, golden hard cheeses, goats’ cheeses and cheeses wrapped in leaves. The blue cheeses are mouth – watering, speckled with tiny, ink-coloured veins. I ask Shumana from ultracomida how they select the cheeses. Shumana is a sparky, energetic woman with a huge smile and eyes that shine. Her enthusiasm and admiration towards the produce that is on sale here is infectious, and she is warm and welcoming, although it’s a busy day with everyone competing for her attention. “Do you choose cheeses because they’re local?” I ask, and Shumana shakes her head vehemently. Everything is chosen on merit, and Welsh cheeses are of the highest standard. They deserve their place amongst the best cheeses in the world. Hafod Cheddar and Teifi Cheese are available in ultracomida, and I experience the same proud, loyal feeling
I had last night as I enjoyed the cheese board in Hammet House. Seeing the thick wheels of cheese beautifully lit on the shelves here reminds me of Rachel’s hands in the whey, Sam wrapping the curds in cheesecloth, and John proudly showing off his antique cheese press. We have one place left to visit – Cowpots near Whitland. The sat nav sends us the wrong way, before solemnly demanding “turn around!” – but eventually we reach Pen Back Farm and The Cowshed ice cream parlour. The Bowman family started making ice cream a decade ago, and the business is going from strength to strength. In July 2014, The Cowshed ice cream parlour opened on the site, and that is where we head to see the ice cream that is produced here. The atmosphere is laid-back and relaxed – lots of natural light, white walls and a wood stove in the corner, filling the space with warmth and the scent of wood smoke. Cowpots is a family business, and Rachel leads me to the freezer. She is brimming with enthusiasm for the ice cream and the cafe-
“ Welsh cheeses are of the highest standard. They deserve their place amongst the best cheeses in the world.” www.fork2fork.wales
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“Everyone is creating produce that they’re proud of, and no-one is willing to compromise on quality.” she smiles throughout our visit. She passes samples of the ice cream over the counter so that I can taste – gooseberry, ginger and chocolate, something called Cowmix that has too many delicious ingredients to list here. And lastly, raspberry, and this is a stunning taste – as if the raspberries have just been picked and the cream just churned. Rachel smiles in a way that says, I know, it’s wonderful, isn’t it? And yes, it really is. We meet William, who is responsible for making the ice cream. He is a quiet young man, and he is scooping burnt toffee ice cream into pots, ready for selling. I can’t help but stare – the ice cream is so soft and yielding, a dark golden colour. William explains that his parents were dairy farmers in Hampshire, and after years of hard graft and dedication, the family had to accept that the price of milk had fallen to an unsustainably low rate. They took a chance, moved to Pen Back farm, and Cowpots was born. On the farmyard, we chat with Brian Bowman, William’s father, and he explains further. They are a farming family who had no other choice but to diversify, and they’re determined that anything which bears their name is of the highest standard. Brian is a lovely, warm character with a glint in his eyes and a mischievous smile. He gesticulates with his farm-weathered hands as he speaks, and is confident and funny. It is important, says Brian, to pass
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things on to the next generation, and he’s proud of his family for maintaining and developing a business that is successful and respected. Iestyn asks for a photo, but Brian declines: “Take a photo of William instead!” Later, I ask Rachel if there’s any chance of convincing Brian to allow us to photograph him eating ice cream – she grins conspiratorially and promises to try. Five minutes later, Brian is in front of the camera, his spoon plunged into the depths of his sundae. Before we leave, he insists that we stay for lunch, and I have the pleasure of enjoying a tasca with apple chutney and Mouldy Mabel blue cheese, another of the Bowman family’s products. It is the perfect end to a perfect trip. As we travel home in the car (the sat nav directs us from b-road to b-road, through villages we’ve never heard of), Iestyn and I discuss the things we’ve seen, and the people we’ve been fortunate enough to meet. One thing they all have in common is enthusiasm. Everyone is creating produce that they’re proud of, and no-one is willing to compromise on quality. I am not praising producers because they’re in Wales – I am praising dedicated producers of wonderful things. Now, on to the dieting – after I have a nibble of this lovely Hafod Cheddar...
Sweet Dreams in Dairyland
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Food Lore & Legends Brine tenths of the law
medieval A clause in the de known Welsh legal co Hywel Dda as the Laws of suggests (AD 880-950) as commonly that cheese w e. According soaked in brin le the cheese to the law, whi brine it was still in the e wife, once belonged to th e (and ready out of the brin ed to the to eat) it belong distinction husband. This in divorce was often used settlements.
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Salty but nice
The Celts were big believers in the culinary and preservative miracles possible through the heavy use of salt. As well as a preservative for meat, salt was central to the production of Welsh butter, a practical way of bringing luxurious fats and flavours to an otherwise frugal peasant diet. Proper Welsh butter still contains enough salt to make a cardiologist weep. Delicious though.
Silent treatment
American cartoon ist Winsor McCay ha d an intriguing insight into the effects of Welsh ra rebit, where characters often awoke from dream s after eating the dish. Hi s comic strip titled ‘Dream of the Rarebit Fiend’ was published in news papers from 1904 to 1925 , and made into a silen t movie of the same name in 1906.
Holy cheese
The idea that Welsh rarebit, (‘caws pobi’ in Welsh), was a dish irresistible to the Welsh has existed since the Middle Ages. In ‘The Hundred Merry Tales’ (1526) God, apparently, grows tired of the rowdy Welshmen in heaven and instructs St Peter to do something about it. St Peter responds by shouting ‘Welsh rarebit' and all the Welshmen run out. St Peter locks the gates behind them, which is why, apparently, there are no Welshmen in heaven.
A salty tale
It is rumoured Ca erphilly cheese was develo ped over time, to prov ide the coal miners of the area with a conven ient way of replenishin g the salt lost through ha rd work over ten hour shifts underground, and so was a staple of th e coal-miners' diet.
Alternative bangers
Glamorgan sausage is a traditional Welsh vegetarian sausage made from cheese (usually Caerphilly), leeks and breadcrumbs. Mentioned by George Borrow in his work, ‘Wild Wales’ (1862), and originally made with Glamorgan cheese which is no longer made. Caerphilly cheese is a direct descendant of the old traditional Glamorgan cheese recipe and lends the same general texture and flavour.
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We're now at our journey’s end... ...however to start your own food and drink odyssey visit www.fork2fork.wales and chose one of the hundreds of direct food locations available just a stone's throw away, be it a farmers’ market, farm shop, festival or at a farm gate.
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