Winter 2005

MAKING CHEESE TO PASTURE COWS
By Candace Byrne

SUSTAINABLE STURGEON
By Daren Cliff, Photos Courtesy of Dr. David Stephens

THE ESSENCE OF A CRAFTSMAN
By Steven Dambeck, Photos by Carole Topalian

Tim and Jill Pedrozo of Pedrozo Dairy and Cheese Co. in Orland know where the time goes: into making cheese. They make their Northern Gold cheese using milk from their own herd and aging the cheese wheels a minimum of 60 days. Soon now-on New Year's Eve-they will celebrate 7 years of cheese making in Orland. And they are about eight generations of dairy cows away from Tim's first FFA cow, a Brown Swiss whose offspring today provide some of the milk that forms the cheese.

The ways they use their time-the process of making and aging their cheese, their continuing anniversaries as cheese makers, and their connection to the first Brown Swiss that Tim raised-all demonstrate an intimate and sustaining involvement in a particular way of life.

"We make cheese so our cows can feed on pasture," Tim says. That's certified organic pasture, more than an acre apiece for their 50 dairy cows, principally Holsteins and Jerseys. When they moved to Orland from the Central Valley almost 7 years ago, they knew, as a small, family-run dairy, that they couldn't maintain their herd by only selling milk. They would need a value-added product-cheese-to assure that their cows could live in the manner to which the Pedrozos wanted them to become accustomed. The farm they found in Orland offered pasture for a herd of 50, and it came with cheese making equipment. Best yet, the former owners, Bob and Karen Parker, provided Jill her first lessons in cheese making.

Today, the Pedrozos are one of only nine or ten farmstead cheese makers in California, farmstead cheese makers meaning those who produce cheese from the milk of their own animals.

According to the Pedrozos, consumers often mistakenly infer that farmstead cheese comes from animals grazed on that home farm. Not so. The Pedrozos are one of only three of these farmstead cheese makers who graze their own animals; the others all use an intensive dairy system more akin to feedlots.

That's a far cry from the image consumers may conjure of farmstead cheese. Tim and Jill say they want to connect with consumers to whom it matters that the cows whose milk produces their cheese graze on their farm's pasture year 'round.

For the Pedrozos, making cheese happens right next to the room where the cows are milked. Jill, the cheese maker, first connects stainless steel pipes from the cheese vat through the wall to the milking room. As Tim, who cares for the herd, milks the cows, the milk flows warm right into the cheese vat. "Body temperature is the perfect temperature for the process," says Jill. In her "one nod to technology," she uses a mechanized mixer to stir enzymes and rennet into the milk. Every other stage she does by hand.

Once the curds set, Jill cuts them by hand, her favorite part, "like taking the first step in snow." As the whey drains, Jill saves it to feed the calves and a pig. Next, she scoops up the curds and packs them by hand into either 20-pound wheels or 2-pound baby wheels. The wheels are set on top of one another and placed beneath a press rack, where they are weighted down so that more whey can drain. This process, beginning from the morning milking, takes the better part of the day.

The Pedrozos don't wax their cheese; they simply soak the wheels overnight in a salt brine, which dries the outside a bit and preserves it. Jill will flavor some batches with either garlic and herbs or cracked peppercorns. They also occasionally flavor the baby wheels with wine to produce a variety they call Tipsy Cow, a name inspired by the Spanish cheese Drunken Goat and altered because "a cow would never get drunk," due to her sweet nature. Treana Winery, in Paso Robles, has currently contracted with the Pedrozos to use one of Treana's red wines to flavor a batch of Tipsy Cow for the winery to give as holiday gifts.

Jill felt both inexperienced and intimidated-but only until the trio started talking. She delighted in both Vella and Callahan, who waxed on about how much they are still learning and loving their work.

So, in her "make book," Jill keeps notes on each batch of cheese that she makes. She's begun recording the pH of the cheese at different stages of the process, and she says just writing the notes helps her remember and build on her experience, even if she doesn't go back to study them. Plus, she knows she can always phone a welcoming "expert."

All the Pedrozos' cheese is aged at least 60 days; that's the USDA requirement for cheese made from unpasteurized milk. Their Northern Gold cheese is a semi-hard cheese, butter-colored, described by Laura Werlin in The All American Cheese and Wine Book as "a near-perfect food" because of its buttery flavor, "its fruitiness and long finish."

Tim and Jill Pedrozo

Because their cows graze on pasture, the flavor of their cheese changes seasonally. When the cows graze on the rich, green spring grasses of the north state, that richness goes into the milk, and the richness in the milk influences the flavor of the cheese. The Pedrozos have named the Northern Gold cheese produced during Spring Black Butte Reserve. Black Butte Reserve has a sharper, more complex flavor than their cheese produced at other times of the year. To maximize the flavor, the Black Butte Reserve is aged 9 months. In 2000, Black Butte Reserve won a silver medal in the World Cheese Championships, held that year in England. This cheese was also featured by "Bon Appetit" in its 2003 Christmas gift guide.

Despite such praise, Pedrozo Dairy and Cheese Co. will remain a family operation, and the Pedrozos will remain committed to sustainability. They had a call from Costco about distributing their cheese there, but they plan to remain small. They market themselves locally and through Tomales Bay Foods. Their cheese can be found in the north state in Sacramento at the Sacramento Food Co-op and Taylors and in Chico at Zucchini and Vine, Creekside Cellars, and The Galley. They also distribute to north state restaurants: in Sacramento at the California Café in Arden Mall; in Chico at Red Tavern, Sierra Nevada Brewery's restaurant, The Black Crow, and Monk's Bistro Wine Lounge.

Perhaps the best way for consumers to connect with the Pedrozos' cheese is to give a call: (530) 865-9548. The phone will ring in the Pedrozos' house, and Jill or Tim will let you know when it's convenient for you to come taste and buy. They sell Northern Gold for $8 a pound and Black Butte Gold for $10, right from the room where they make the cheese. They expect folks to stop by during the holidays… if, that is, you're interested in tasty cheese, hand-made from cows that feed on a family's pasture.

It is 1895. You have just bellied up to the bar at your favorite watering hole. Now that the long hours of work have ended, the lure of a cold drink has you fixated. As the innkeeper pours your libation of choice, you blindly reach for the complimentary bowl of caviar.

Whoa! Caviar? What happened to beer nuts? Surprisingly, caviar is most likely what you would have found-especially if you were in a bar in Sacramento. The salt content of the tiny golden treats were an effective way to get thirsty travelers salivating.

During the 19th century, the United States was the world leader in caviar production. The caviar trade thrived in the Sacramento Delta, as well as the Great Lakes and the Northeast. At that time, large amounts of the plentiful roe were also shipped to Europe. By the turn of the century commercial exploitation, poaching, and habitat degradation had driven the prehistoric species to the brink of extinction in North America.

ENTER THE RUSSIANS

The Caspian Sea's chilly depths are home to the most famed and rare sturgeons in the world, the Beluga. Throughout the 20th century, Russia took reign as the largest producer of caviar. Of course, exploitation, poaching, and illegal trade set in once again. The Caspian Sea's stocks of sturgeon have since plummeted at an alarming rate. Today there are stringent regulations on the export of caviar from the Caspian, imposed by the United Nations through the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species (CITES). With the tightening of supply, prices have risen-and so has the illegal trade. With the fall of the Soviet regime, what little regulation there was is also gone. This has allowed poachers and gangsters to corrupt the industry even more. Today the prices for Caspian caviar are exorbitant, while the authenticity is very questionable and the quality inconsistent. Few scientists hold out any hope for the sturgeon population of the Caspian.

SACRAMENTO STURGEON HAVE COME FULL CIRCLE

The recent history of the caviar trade created a vacuum in the epicurean world. Caviar farming has stepped up to fill that void in places like the Sacramento Valley. Famous chefs from coast to coast have touted the farm-raised caviar of Sacramento. These local pelagic fish and their briny fruit are readily available, consistently high in quality, and are becoming the savior of the wild sturgeon.

Tucked away in Wilton is the sturgeon farm of Tsar Nicoulai Caviar. I was very fortunate to have the chance to visit this astounding aqua-farm. It is here that they raise white sturgeon, the species indigenous to the Sacramento River, for their California Estate Osetra caviar. Dr. David Stephen is the director of the aqua-farm. Stephen has implemented a sustainable system with all organic inputs. With multiple specializations and a doctorate in fisheries and aquaculture from the University of Hawaii, he is the first to tell you that sturgeon farming was new to him.

"Prior to coming to this farm three years ago, I was the technical director of the largest shrimp farm in the U.S., in Texas."

The biology of these fish is not much different than other fish. "It is the water that is the difference in sturgeon farming," he says. The need for incredibly clean, mineral-rich water is what has driven this biologist to create this laudable eco-farming system.

The Tsar Nicoulai farm system begins with well water. It was a priority to Stephen that the water be recirculated without any discharge of wastewater. "To be a sustainable production system, we must first be environmentally sound and second be economically viable. To be environmentally sound we must conserve water and energy, because these are scarce resources. By recirculating water we conserve water and by using biological treatment and gravity flow we conserve energy. Gravity is still free!"

A nearby well was used to fill the system two years ago with water and it recirculates through a treatment pond and a series of canals. The only time that additional aquifer water is needed is to top off the system due to evaporative loss.

"OUR FISH SWIM IN PRISTINE WATER"
The question looms: Where does the waste go if it is a closed system?

The primary water quality concern in aquaculture is ammonia that is found in fish waste. Stephen explains that the "ammonia can become toxic to fish under certain conditions and therefore we monitor water quality every day, around the clock, for ammonia and associated parameters."

They have never had harmful levels of ammonia in the recirculating water. The solution is a floating plant with fibrous roots that is native to the San Francisco Bay, the water hyacinth. Stephen chose this plant as a bio-filter. The water hyacinth is very effective at removing ammonia, as well as nitrates and chlorides that are common in the well water. The treatment pond and canals that the fish tank water circulates through are filled with this broad-leaf floating plant. The plant takes up the waste output. The water hyacinth has roots that are high in beneficial bacteria. They also balance minerals and nutrients that are very favorable in growing naturally healthy sturgeon.

Without the water hyacinth, Stephen figures they would be spending upwards of $300 per day on chemicals and energy to achieve a natural balance in the water.

"We have never used chemicals to improve water quality or antibiotics to treat the fish for disease," he says. A fringe benefit of this floating plant is its broad leaves: They provide excellent shade in the summer to help keep the water cool. Once a year they harvest the hyacinth and it is hauled away by an organic waste contractor for composting. "When people ask me where the fish waste is I simply say 'There it is [he points to the water hyacinth]-it is green waste!'" They plan to grow rare herbs and spices in a hydroponics system using the same recirculating, nutrient rich water in the near future.

With any ecosystem, there are inputs in conjunction with the outputs. In the case of sturgeon farming, the input is fish food. Tsar Nicoulai's farm uses a certified organic feed formulated with fishmeal, vegetable matter, vitamins, and minerals.

"We do not incorporate any ingredients derived from ruminants in our fish food," he says proudly. The priority for this farm is to grow naturally healthy sturgeon. Stephen has received a special permit from the Department of Fish and Game to take up to seven wild sturgeons a year to spawn in the hatchery. He explains that this very important. "Sturgeons are polyploids; they have too many chromosomes (60 or more), and therefore, inbreeding amongst our own stock is a concern. The wild fish add genetic vigor to our domestic stock." Once the wild fish from the Sacramento River finish spawning at the farm, they are released back into the river.

WASTE NOT, WANT NOT

When these farmed fish give up their prized pearls, they are not taken for granted. Tsar Nicoulai uses just about every part of the fish when they harvest it. They smoke the meat as well and use it in jerky and pate, and the skin is sold for "leather." "The cartilage is a very valuable source for chondroitin. It is the only farmed fish source that is considered kosher," Stephen says.

It usually takes up to two years before Stephen and his staff can determine the sex of a fish. Once they can, the males are immediately harvested for their meat. Many of the meat products are available on the Tsar Nicoulai website www.tsarnicoulai.com, along with their delectable caviars.

"We are running a totally managed ecosystem that is sustainable. It is an open ecosystem-we have frogs, water bugs, and many crawdads, all of them came in naturally. We are just managing the feed that goes into this ecosystem and the water quality it produces, and so far the results have been incredible," he exclaims. "Farming sturgeon takes the pressure of off wild stock. Besides, our Osetra Caviar tastes better; it is from our farm, where the waters are not polluted!"

Whether it is your next formal gathering or casual dinner party, you can offer up world-class caviar without the guilt or inconsistent, muddy flavors of wild caviar. Moreover, you may find yourself at a Super Bowl party with your favorite lager in hand, and when you ask for the beer nuts, across comes the caviar!

It takes an artist to make a fine wine, and such a wine forever carries within it the character and temperament of its maker. Not so with fine olive oil. The miller's role is to be attentive to the ripening fruit, sensitive to the oil maturing invisibly inside, and to nurture it forth simply and firmly, without imposing anything of his own. A miller is better off without artistic urges. He must be a craftsman.

Between us, Gianni and I have enough positive attributes to make a single craftsman. And the system we have been operating-classic stone wheels and woven-mat press-is a stern taskmaster of craftsmanship. In this system, each new phase of extraction is initiated by a human decision. And this decision puts great weight on both experience (what works best for this variety at this degree of ripeness) and character (choosing always for quality rather than the functional considerations-speed, cost, fatigue-of the moment).

Before serving us, our mill spent over 60 years serving the needs of a small village on the Adriatic coast of Italy. It was never designed for larger production, and Gianni and I have long known that we would need a second mill. But what kind of mill? We don't find ourselves drawn to the standard modern system, which has in the last half-century almost entirely replaced the classic mill. Not that we disdain the modern; it is rather that its phases of extraction were designed for functional concerns, with too little love for the flavors hidden within the fruit.

We are not entirely alone. There is a team in Tuscany that has devoted almost two decades to making a modern machine that will produce great oil. I was given an introduction to Marco Mugelli some years ago by our own Darrell Corti. Marco, the driving force of this team and apostle of super-extraction of olive flavors, spent a gracious day with me touring various mills in Chianti. While I didn't grasp all of the mechanics or the chemistry of his ideas, I came to deeply understand his passion for oil, and his drive to extract every possible good thing from the olive. Last year, Gianni spent a week at his experimental mill, watching the process and learning.

Gianni was also courting them. After so many years of development, Marco and Giorgio (who owns the manufacturing operation) had determined to release a few mills into the world, and they were at that moment looking for worthy partners. While Gianni was looking out of the corner of his eye to see whether the machine was really all it was cracked up to be, they were looking out of the corners of their eyes to see if Gianni represented such a partner.

It took us nine days in mid-October to assemble, test, and program the mill in its new location in the golden rolling foothills of the Sierra Nevada. Marco and Giorgio came with two technicians, plus assorted wives and supporters. They were clearly determined to make the thing work. Gianni and I, along with Pablo, left the rest of our lives behind and lived in a virtual Italian-expatriate bubble, always either at the mill or at a voluble dining table.

Fortunately, many things went wrong: electrical-conversion problems, computer-sensor problems, problems with the fittings and the pumps. I say fortunately because it forced us to dismantle and reassemble much of the system several times, allowing us to understand the machinery more deeply than we could have otherwise. And equally fortunately, it allowed us to come to know each other, to see how the others responded to the innumerable little challenges that tempt a functional, rather than quality, response.
On Thursday midday we put in the first olives. They passed into the washer (which worked just fine), through the mill (which we slowed down a tad), into the malixers (some discussion about how long to keep the paste there), finally emerging from the decanter as bright green oil.

In part, we experienced the running of fruit as simply the final phase of assembly. But we also experienced it as a real birth, and were appropriately nervous. Of course, it was necessary to affect nonchalance. One by one, avoiding eye contact, we shuffled over to the decanter, took a small sample into a tasting cup, and tasted the first-fruits in our own private corner.
Pablo, who is poor at hiding his feelings, flashed a smile. Gianni and I, being more circumspect, restricted ourselves to a surreptitious glance across the room. But it took agonizingly long for Marco to approach the emerald stream and fill his cup. He sniffed, he sipped, he slurped, and he then uttered some of the best words I ever heard: "Stasera mangiamo spaghetti con aglio, olio, e peperoncino"-"Tonight we eat spaghetti with garlic, oil, and red pepper."

Perhaps I should explain something about this dish. It looks indescribably bland: off-white spaghetti with a few off-white garlic chunks and a few tiny flecks of red. Few Americans have ever ordered it in a restaurant, nor would they understand its significance if they did.
But for many Italians, it is indeed a significant experience. Partly because it is the quintessential comfort food of a pasta-eating people; partly because the ingredients are so inexpensive that anyone can afford them (confirming the inalienable right of every Italian to delicious food); partly because of its utter simplicity (to be prepared by a loving mama rather than a culinary artist).

And it is the olive oil that ultimately makes the difference. As every Italian knows, real extra virgin olive oil runs its life's course in a single year: fresh and frisky in November and December, mature and balanced in June and July, mellow and wise in the weeks before the new harvest. Spaghetti con aglio, olio, e peperoncino is served best by the brand-new oil of the year, which can transform the dish's fundamental blandness into unexpected, vibrant life.

So that if Marco had said, "This will win the gold medal in Verona" it would have been less valuable to us, less significant, than what he did say: in effect, "This is worthy of my first simple pasta of the new year".
Thursday night we dined. It was a celebration of sorts, and wives and supporters and long-suffering friends joined us. The atmosphere was jovial, though Giorgio and Marco and Gianni and I were (uncharacteristically) quiet. Within the general festivity of the dinner, we were having our own, private, unspoken celebration. A craftsman's celebration, without backslapping, and without champagne, steak, or cigars. Just a little spaghetti con aglio, olio, e peperoncino. And, of course, some very nice vino.

Steven Dambeck lovingly crafts world-class extra virgin olive oil at his mill in Oregon House under the Apollo label. Look for his artisan oil at your local grocer as well as farmer's market.