Cheesy Cacoethes

Don't we all just love Dictionary.com? Having downloaded its excellent app onto my Smartyphone, I now look forward every morning to the always-stimulating Word of the Day. Yesterday, it was cacoethes. Could there be a more appropriate term for the way I feel about cheesemaking at the moment? I think not.

I'm obsessed to the point where the local dairy herds are having trouble keeping up, as shall be demonstrated below.

When we last visited my rennet-soaked story arc, I was pondering how to optimize my mozzarella-making technique to the point where I felt confident about which ingredients to include in my recipe; the ease and effectiveness of my overall procedure; and my ability to control (within reason) the texture of the final product. Many gallons of raw milk and pounds upon pounds of fresh formaggio later, I believe I have well and truly achieved my goal, able as I now am to produce excellent mozzarella on demand - admittedly, with some minor variations between batches.

There's no problem with that, right? If I wanted it to be exactly the same every time, I could always pop to the supermarket just down the street, which sells processed, shredded mozzarella cheese helpfully coated in powdered cellulose and treated against infection with natamyacin - and 29 whole cents cheaper for half a pound!

For my final experiments (although, it must be said, I imagine I will continue to tweak my recipe until I pop my clogs), I was worryingly unable to procure my favorite raw milk from the loyal Jersey cows up the road, as an impending blizzard had prompted a run on their dairy. I was therefore obliged to travel somewhat farther afield (in this selfsame storm, which was an adventure in itself - but I will endure just about any hardship when fresh cheese is at stake), to visit a farm where the bovines are of the Holstein breed, the world's highest milk-yielders (according to Wikipedia, anyway). I was curious to see whether the difference in milk would have an appreciable effect on my mozzarella production.

I won't keep you in suspense. It didn't.

Here is the procedure and recipe that is working for me. It yields flavorful, moist cheese that can be produced in about half an hour. I have borrowed heavily from the Wait and See Method popularized by the Cheese Queen with a few tweaks here and there to suit my own purposes. A gallon of raw milk produces about one pound of cheese - which works out to $3 for 8 oz. of cheese, with not a speck of potato starch to be found. It seems to keep well when stored tightly-wrapped in the fridge, although it isn't really lasting long enough chez Fractured Amy to be positive about this.

Home-Made Mozzarella Cheese

• 1/4 rennet tablet dissolved in 1/4 cup of cool water
• 1.5 teaspoons citric acid dissolved in 3/4 cup of cool water
• 1/4 teaspoon powdered lipase dissolved in 1/4 cup of cool water
• 1 gallon of raw milk (you can pasteurize it yourself if you wish)
• 1 teaspoon cheese salt

Pop a candy thermometer into a spaghetti pot (I used my small 8-quart straight-sided one). Pour in the milk, the citric acid mixture, and the lipase mixture. Blend it all together vigorously. Bring the milk up to 88 deg F over medium heat, stirring now and then. Nothing will seem to happen up to this point, and that's just fine and dandy.

Remove the pot from the heat and add the rennet. Stir thoroughly but slowly just until you think the rennet is evenly distributed (less than 30 seconds). Clap a lid on the pot and walk away for ten minutes. I used the time to organize my spice cupboard, which was overflowing with jars of cumin and redundant bottles of sherry peppers. I also  discovered an unopened jar of whole Tellicherry peppercorns, which I was then able to cross off the shopping list. I am nothing if not a multi-tasker!

When you get back to the pot, it will still look like nothing has happened. Do not be deceived! What you actually have is a big pot of milky custard that you can jiggle if you wish or cut with a knife.

Do the slicing thing now: take a long carving knife and cut through the curd to make cuboid shapes. Make sure you cut all the way to the bottom of the pot! The resulting scraping noise, I assure you, is worse than fingernails on a chalkboard (not that anybody knows what one of those is, anymore).

Return your pot to medium heat and bring it up to 100 deg F, stirring very gently with an extremely long-handled wooden spoon. It only takes a few minutes. You will see the curds separate from the whey and begin to look like floating cheese - be careful, or you will destroy the delicate web of casein particles. When 100 deg. F has been reached, remove the pot from the heat and continue to swirl the curds around for an additional two or three minutes. They will firm up, and you will realize that it has become a simple matter to pour off the whey and decant the cheese into a colander.

Plop the resulting drained curds into a glass bowl and put it in your microwave. Zap it for one minute. Remove it, drain off the excess whey, add the cheese salt, and fold it in with your silicon spatula. Return to the microwave and zap it again until it reaches 130 deg F, or is hot and slightly sticky but still handleable. Remove the cheese to a big cutting board.

Now you have to stretch the cheese, otherwise it's not mozzarella. This is a key contributor to the texture of the final product, although it's not nearly as occult a process as some would have you believe. What you do is, you take the hot cheese and fold it over on itself a few times until it has the texture you desire and it starts to look a bit glossy. The length of time and vigor with which you apply youself to the task are crucial to the final formaggio outcome. For a soft, homogenous, creamy cheese, work it barely at all. For firmer cheese with definite strings, stretch it a bit more. This part is trial and error, but I have discovered that you can produce two very different cheeses from the same batch once you get the hang of it: this is important in a family where preferences are strong and varied.

For this batch, the cheese at 5 o'clock was flopped only three or four times, and formed while still quite hot. The cheese at 11 o'clock was pulled and stretched until strings formed, then coiled when cooler. A close-up of the latter, more fibrous specimen shows what I'm talking about:

Isn't that cool? Same procedure, right until the cheese was brought to 130 deg. in the microwave.

When you have finished stretching your cheese and formed it into whatever shapes suit your fancy, submerge them in an icy bath to cool them down and firm up their shape.

Believe me - you will be glad you saved yourself a trip to the supermarket.

The Whey Ahead

Having made three batches of mozzarella cheese with my own fair hands, it is time to take stock of my progress and consider issues arising.

None of my six cheeses was flawless, it must be admitted, but I was encouraged by each's general appeal and deliciousness. Unexpectedly, home-made mozzarella costs no more than decent deli-counter cheese, since a $6 gallon of raw milk yields about a pound of cheese, which may be had at the supermarket for about $3 per 8 oz. ball (and let's not forget the whey  - so useful for simmering rice and potatoes and feeding prosciutto pigs, should I ever decide to venture into ham production). Domestically-created cheese is purer than the mass-produced variety, too, when made with beautiful local milk and the minimum of additives, and bragging rights are beyond measure. Although perfection is ever a worthy goal, I believe in this instance my diligent efforts will be doubly rewarded. Not only will I feel insufferably virtuous, but we'll all have peerless formaggio to boot.

There are two broad methods and recipes to consider, each yielding very different results:

• Jeff Potter's Witch's Cauldron Method, which requires lipase and calcium chloride in addition to the other common ingredients; continuous stirring after the addition of the rennet at 88 deg F; two kneading sessions (before and after the addition of the salt); and microwaving to the final temperature of 135 deg F.   
• the Cheese Queen's Wait and See Method, noted for the absence of lipase and calcium chloride; the instruction to walk away from the pot after the 88 deg F addition of rennet; one kneading session (described as gentle, rather than vigorous); and use of a water bath (rather than a microwave) to the final 135 deg F.

I am comparing these approaches along four metrics: ease of method; aesthetics of process; taste of final product; and texture of final product. My goal at the end of the analysis is to have a working method guaranteed to produce perfect cheese with minimum fuss.

Are you sitting comfortably? Here we go!

Ease of method
Wait and See, as the name implies, is by far the simpler of the two procedures (except for the water bath at the end, which was a pain and had no discernible value other than, presumably, its historical distinction). For my next batch, I will employ the Wait and See method until the cheese reaches 100 deg F in the pot, then finish it in the microwave.

Aesthetics of Process
The Wait and See method proves its worth in this arena, as well. Compare its results (below left) with those of the Witch's Cauldron after the rennet has caused curd formation:

... and when the cheese has been drained from the whey (Wait and See is on the left, again):

There is no contest, really: not only is it easier to wait and see, it's prettier, too.

It is possible that the method is not the only difference here, although there is no doubt in my mind that excessive stirring serves only to destabilize creamy curd production. Ingredients also have a role to play. When I went to order my chemicals from the Cheese Queen, I attempted to add calcium chloride to my shopping cart, only to be met by a very stern warning: "Do NOT use Calcium Chloride when making Mozzarella. It will keep the curds from stretching." The purpose of calcium chloride, apparently, is to provide a firmer curd - counter-productive when the object of the exercise is soft, moist, delectable mozzarella, I'm sure you will agree. In addition, the release of calcium is the whole purpose of the final stretch - therefore, its addition by chemical means is counterproductive. Jeff is silent as to why he includes calcium chloride in his recipe - a rather odd omission from the King of Kitchen Geeks, in my opinion. I will omit calcium chloride from all future cheese production.

Taste of Final Product
This is where Jeff really wins out with his inclusion of lipase, which is particularly important as a flavour-enhancer when vegetarian rennet tablets are used (it has something to do with the way lipase 'cleaves' the fats in the milk, although Jeff does not elaborate). The cheese produced using his ingredients had a much fresher - dare I say it? - grassier flavour, like the taste of fresh milk only more so. The Cheese Queen's cheese was, regrettably, mild almost to the point of insipidness. Granted, the Jersey cows who donated the raw milk for this production are on silage at the moment and their milk may be more flavourful when they move out to pasture in March. I can't wait that long, and will be adding lipase to all my future batches.

Texture of Final Product
This is by far the most problematic of my evaluation metrics, since there was a good deal of disagreement chez Fractured Amy as to which cheese emerged victorious in this regard. Certain members of the family who shall remain nameless preferred the homogeneous creaminess of the Wait and See version (below left), whilst others expressed a superior liking for the moist fibers of the Witch's Cauldron.

This may not figure in the choice of method, since I am convinced sliceability vs. shredability are not artifacts of component ingredients or stirring characteristics, but rather the length of and energy applied to the final stretching. In other words, the more you stretch the cheese, the stringier it becomes. I do not believe this decision needs to be made until the last stage of the process - and the choice will necessarily fall to the whim of the casara, who will happily accept a small honorarium for consideration of diners' preferences. 

Formaggio Fabrication: Seconda Parte

Having produced two batches of respectable home-made mozzarella using Jeff Potter's highly geekish procedure, I felt the time was right to attempt a more traditional recipe. This outline came to me via Rikki 'The Cheese Queen' Carroll of the New England Cheesmaking Supply Company, from whence I procured all the chemicals and specialist ingredients this endeavour required.

Below, I have documented production with no editorializing (you can just imagine the challenge I found that to be), although I have called attention to schematic differences where they occured. Comparisons between the utility and aesthetics of the two methods and their cheesy results will be posted next, together with a discussion of issues arising and hypotheses about future mozzarella manufacturing measures. Watch this space!

Here is how I made mozzarella cheese a la The Cheese Queen.

I prepared my mis en place, which consisted of fewer ingredients than my previous batches (lipase and calcium chloride were omitted from Ricki's recipe): one gallon of raw whole milk went into my spaghetti pot with my candy thermometer; one quarter of a rennet tablet was dissolved in one-quarter cup of cool kettle water; and one and one-half teaspoons of citric acid were dissolved in one cup of cool water.

I vigorously stirred the citric acid solution into the milk and slowly brought it up to 88 deg F. Unlike Jeff's method, at this point there was no curd formation of any kind:

I removed the pot from the heat and added the rennet solution. I stirred the mixture slowly but with resolve for thirty seconds until I judged the rennet to be evenly distributed. I clapped a lid on the pan and walked away for ten minutes.

When I returned, I was dismayed to see that nothing had happened inside the pot (at this point in the previous batches, I had clearly visible curd formation beneath a puddle of whey). I feared the lack of calcium chloride had sabotaged my cheese. But then I realized that, instead of curds and whey, I had a big pot of soft creamy custard in which I could stand a spoon on end! I procured my longest carving knife from my butcher's block and sliced the curd all the way to the bottom of the pot, many many many times, to make cuboid shapes:

Stirring the resulting curd blocks carefully and slowly, I brought the mixture back up to 100 deg F. The curds became clearly separated from their solution and took on the appearance and consistency of soft tofu:

I removed the pot from the heat and stirred gently for another three minutes. The curd cubes firmed up considerably and it was a simple matter to decant them into a cheese-cloth lined colander. The cheese soft and homogeneous:

I emptied the curds from the cheesecloth into the colander (the cloth may not have been necessary in the first place, given the nature of the cheese at this point, but I had initially feared some might escape through the holes) and prepared a water bath by pouring boiling water into my biggest shallow mixing bowl. I lowered the colander into the hot water a few times and gently folded the cheese over and over onto itself using a silicon spatula. I added one teaspoon of cheese salt at this point.

When the cheese reached 135 deg F (internal temperature), I stretched it a bit and formed it into two eight-ounce balls. They were a bit loose, so I wrapped them tightly in plastic to help them keep their shape. I submerged the results in a bowl of icy cold water.

When the cheeses were cool, I unwrapped them to find creamy mozzarella balls very similar to the ones found in most American supermarkets - or should I say, the better delis round and about:

The texture was firm and homogeneous, with none of the dewy strands found in my previous two batches. The cheese was more durable, more sliceable, and a little drier. The taste was very different, probably due to the lack of lipase. We ate one whole ball while considering its relative merits and I drove the other straight to the 'Rents for a second opinion.

Next up: the definitive judgement and the path ahead

Formaggio Fabrication: Prima Parte

As per Friday's plan, this weekend I embarked on the second cheesemaking venture of my life: the manufacturing of home-made mozzarella from two different recipes and procedures.

First up: the scheme laid out by Jeff Potter in Cooking for Geeks. Following his outline to the letter for my first batch of formaggio, I proceeded thusly:

I dissolved one-half teaspoon of calcium chloride in two tablespoons of cool sterilized water (from the kettle) and set it aside.

I dissolved one-quarter of a vegetarian rennet tablet in four tablespoons of water (see above) and set that aside, too.

I poured one gallon of raw whole milk (provided by the Jersey cows of Keepsake Farms: thank you, ladies!) into my spaghetti pot and plopped in my candy thermometer.

I retrieved a few tablespoons of the milk and dissolved in them one and one-half teaspoons of citric acid and one-quarter teaspoon of lipase. I returned the milk/citric acid/lipase mixture to the pot and slowly brought the contents up to 88 deg F, stirring frequently:

Small curds began to form almost immediately:

When the milk reached the required temperature of 88 deg F, I added the calcium chloride and rennet mixtures. I continued to heat the milk to 105 deg F, stirring occasionally as per Jeff's instructions (such stirring is an important difference between the two procedures: further details about this vital topic will be provided in a later post). At 105 deg F, I had large-curd formation at the bottom of the pot:

I removed the pan from the heat, covered it with a lid, and waited for twenty minutes. At the end of the waiting period, I had serious curds and whey:

I strained the result through my cheesecloth, which has been getting a pretty good workout lately, let me tell you:

I squeezed out as much whey as I could, and transferred the curds to a microwave-safe bowl. I microwaved the cheese for  45 seconds, until it was warm and sticky. I added one teaspoon of cheese salt and kneaded it in, squeezing out more whey in the process:

Employing thirty-second bursts, I microwaved the curd ball. I took its internal temperature at each juncture until a temperature of 130 deg F was achieved. The cheese became melty and creamy:

At this point, Jeff's instructions direct the casara (that's Italian for lady cheesemaker, you know) to knead the cheese until it becomes stringy, which I duly did:

Unfortunately, I knew before I was finished that I had overworked the finished product, because it didn't really want to make itself into a cohesive ball, although for a first-ever mozzarella, I was extremely pleased. It reminded me of the fresh stringy cheese we used to buy years ago, packaged in plastic bags and floating in whey, at our local Italian deli:

The cheese was moist (though it became a little bit rubbery as it sat) and the taste fresh and delicious. We tried it various ways - naturalmente, with salt, with olive oil, with a bit of good balsamic, and sprinkled with house-dried thyme from the garden. Before we knew it, we'd eaten the entirety of one of the two 8 ounce balls.

Athough I had originally intended to move on immediately to the second recipe/procedure, I decided to first repeat this experiment, with less working of the curds as follows:

• instead of kneading the salt in as a separate step, I went immediately to the 130 deg F heat and mixed the salt in during the final stage
• instead of vigorous kneading such as one might perpetrate on bread dough, I gently flopped the curds around until just stringy, then quickly formed them in a ball

The result of these modifications was fairly awesome:

Much softer, moister, and less rubbery than the first batch, we ate the fresh cheese until, quite honestly, we felt slightly unwell.

It was gorgeous.

Coming soon: I report on a different recipe and procedure, as provided by Ricky 'The Cheese Queen' Carroll, and discuss issues arising.