Spring in My Step

I have just surfaced from a deep submergence in Weather.com, having become convinced that we will soon have front row seats for the Storm of the Century. Six to ten inches of snow and ice (especially ice) are predicted over the next two days, with all the usual accompanying gales, power outages, and general mayhem.

Never mind. The rock salt has been laid in, the snowblower is full of gas, there's plenty of butane for the portable stove, and I've brought enough work home to last until the end of the week - provided I don't work too efficiently, of course (there's little fear of that, since marmalade-making will also need to be accommodated in my schedule during the tempest).

Despite such equanimity in the face of this impending apocalypse, however, my thoughts are increasingly turning to Spring - and not just because I'm dreaming of balmy breezes, budding daffodils, and being able to step outside without 45 layers of clothing on.

I'm looking forward to the weather's turn for an additional reason: my setting forth on the Next Big Step in Cheesemaking.

In just a few short months, I shall be journeying to the delightful town of Ashfield, Massachusetts (very close to where I attended college about three hundred years ago, as it happens) for a two-day workshop at the Cheese Queen's lair, The New England Cheesemaking Supply Company. Mentored by the redoubtable Jim Wallace, technical wiz in matters related to casein, rennet, molds, and affinage (that's cheese-ripening to all you laypeople out there), I shall spend two glorious days immersed in all manner of bacterial goodness.

I'm going to learn a plethora of amazingly useful things, including how to make brie, camembert, cheddar, and vacha toscano. I shall become au courant in the ways of cultures and acids and be able to discuss knowingly the relative merits of natural and artificial rinds. I'm even going to find out how to set up my own cave!

Just imagine - the possibilities for fascinating cocktail party chitchat will be endless for all those people lucky enough to fall within range of my soon-to-be startling erudition.

So the winter winds can do their worst, as far as I'm concerned. No matter how icy the roads may be this time next year, we'll all be feasting on home-made aged cheeses - life-threatening trip to the supermarket not required.

And that is a very gouda thought, indeed.