3 minute read
Herb-crusted Chevre Salad
written by Thor Erickson
IT WAS 4:30 a.m., time for the morning milking at Juniper Grove Farm. As I pulled up to the barn, I saw Pierre, the owner. In his quotidian garb—overalls and mucky, knee-high rubber boots—the lanky Belgian farmer-cheesemaker, a former copyright lawyer living out his agrarianculinary dream, was waving his arms frantically. “It happened again!” he yelled.
I had been working as a cheesemaker at the Redmond goat farm for a little more than a year. Part of my job was to do the first milking of the day, which meant opening chutes and helping seventyfive ewes of varying breeds line up outside the milking parlor for the morning ritual. They all had numbers, but they had names, too.
Franny was the alpha goat—always first in line for the milking and the “magic corn.” I used this sweetened feed to lure them into the barn, which kept them happy as I hooked them up to the milking machines. Abby was the mean one, always waiting for the right time to catch me by surprise, using her hard noggin to wield a swift hit to my backside.
Then there was Cicely. She was the best milkproducing ewe of the entire herd. Most goat ewes produce about 12 pounds of milk per day. Cicely regularly produced a whopping 18 pounds. We loved Cicely—most of the time. This ruminant, lactating overachiever was also an escape artist. Despite many hours of fence reinforcement, video surveillance and radio collars, she would regularly find some way to outsmart us.
Pierre had received a call from a neighboring farmer. “She’s over on their road,” he yelled to me. Pierre was already lining up the ewes. After grabbing a pocketful of “magic corn,” I climbed into his truck and drove into the sunrise to look for Cicely.
Sure enough, I found her in the middle of the road about a half mile away. I stopped the truck, took out the ramp from the back and began negotiations. Cicely did not want to get into the bed of the truck, no matter how much “magic corn” I offered. I opened the door of the cab and got a rope to pull her up into the truck bed. As I walked back to tie a lead onto her, she walked around to the front of the truck and jumped right into the cab. To my luck, she left just enough room for me to squeeze in and drive back to the farm, her udder smashing against the right side of my head the entire way. We returned safely to the farm where together, we made delicious cheese.
Whether you are a goat farmer or someone who simply enjoys goat cheese, this salad is one of the best ways to indulge.
Herb-crusted Chèvre Salad
SERVES 6
18 ounces goat cheese, preferably high-quality chèvre
Leaves from 6 sprigs thyme, chopped
Leaves from 2 small sprigs rosemary, chopped 1¾ cups extra-virgin olive oil 1½ cups bread crumbs ½ baguette loaf, cut on the diagonal into twelve ¼-inchthick slices 1½ teaspoons sherry vinegar ½ teaspoon coarse kosher or sea salt ¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper 2¾ tablespoons hazelnut oil or extra-virgin olive oil
¾ pound baby lettuces or spring mix, washed and dried well
½ cup toasted hazelnuts, coarsely chopped
Slice or shape the goat cheese into eight 1-inch-thick discs and put in a container just big enough to hold them in one layer. Sprinkle the herbs over the goat cheese and pour on olive oil. Cover and chill at least 12 hours and up to a week. It helps to put them in the freezer for about an hour to firm up before you bake them.
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Remove cheese from marinade and roll all sides in the breadcrumbs, pressing gently so the crumbs adhere. Arrange on a large baking sheet and bake until golden, about 15 minutes, turning over halfway through. Add sliced baguette during the last few minutes of baking to toast.
Whisk together sherry vinegar, salt, pepper and hazelnut oil. Place lettuces in a large bowl, drizzle with just enough dressing to coat, and toss gently and thoroughly.
Divide lettuces among 4 plates, sprinkle with toasted hazelnuts, and to each plate add 2 goatcheese discs and a baguette slice. Serve immediately.