08:40h in Bouverans: We arrive for the visit to the Fruitière Bouverans and are introduced to Jean-François Marmier. Information overload ensues.
Once there, we had the opportunity to see the entire cheese-making process – which takes about 1h45m – from receiving the raw, unpasteurized milk from the farms to forming the wheels of cheese and early storage. Taz -- as Jean-François refers to himself (never "I", "me", or "my") -- feels that it is “important to understand the chain” of food production as it relates to community as a whole. The process of cheese making is exceptionally intricate and has been refined over the years. Taz’s facility upgraded to its current production method in the mid-90s at the cost of ~130,000€ -- paid back in under 10 years. Taz’s dairy, though, is one of the few remaining in the area; in the past 40 years the Jura has gone from having 35 fruitières to just six (as of 2011).
The farmers prefer to have high-quality cows (which produce higher-quality milk), in large part because of the quota system which was implemented in 1984. Due to the strict regulations affecting output, farmers are paid more based on the quality of the cheese, rather than the amount that is produced. In the 1960s, their production model was seen as backwards, but today it is being studied as a model to be implemented elsewhere in the world. As Taz mentioned, "We needed to produce….by controlling the rates of production you can have a narrow mind, you can produce." This mindset came from past generations where the "focus was to feed the inhabitants."
Once there, we had the opportunity to see the entire cheese-making process – which takes about 1h45m – from receiving the raw, unpasteurized milk from the farms to forming the wheels of cheese and early storage. Taz -- as Jean-François refers to himself (never "I", "me", or "my") -- feels that it is “important to understand the chain” of food production as it relates to community as a whole. The process of cheese making is exceptionally intricate and has been refined over the years. Taz’s facility upgraded to its current production method in the mid-90s at the cost of ~130,000€ -- paid back in under 10 years. Taz’s dairy, though, is one of the few remaining in the area; in the past 40 years the Jura has gone from having 35 fruitières to just six (as of 2011).
The farmers prefer to have high-quality cows (which produce higher-quality milk), in large part because of the quota system which was implemented in 1984. Due to the strict regulations affecting output, farmers are paid more based on the quality of the cheese, rather than the amount that is produced. In the 1960s, their production model was seen as backwards, but today it is being studied as a model to be implemented elsewhere in the world. As Taz mentioned, "We needed to produce….by controlling the rates of production you can have a narrow mind, you can produce." This mindset came from past generations where the "focus was to feed the inhabitants."
I was brave enough to try the to-be discarded liquid which was being squeezed from the cheeses as they were being pressed into molds. While unpasteurized, the raw milk was heated enough to where I felt safe-enough testing it out. Taz referred to this, jokingly, as a form of hangover elixir. Tasted like warm, diluted milk.
12:35 near Doubs: The break for lunch was nothing short of magnificent. We arrive at La Petite Echelle along the Swiss border and meet Norbert Bournez, the shepherd and owner of the auberge.
Norbert’s auberge, only open during the summer and winter months, is an electricity-free facility, relying on rainwater and solar power for its self-sustained operation. The restaurant itself does not necessarily have a menu – essentially Norbert serves what he has (we tasted everything). There was a discussion later during dinner back at the Gîte over the lack of such places in the United States (though one example that comes to mind would be Mrs. Wilkes’ in Savannah as a similar communal dining concept, where groups are seated at shared tables with other guests and served a variety of family-style Southern dishes).
First is a cooking lesson of sorts – while cooking was not the intent of the course, our group was in Norbert’s kitchen to observe the construction of dishes as the components were all of the terroir – fresh fruits and vegetables and spices from his property, the Comte cheese, and his own dried sausages.
Norbert’s auberge, only open during the summer and winter months, is an electricity-free facility, relying on rainwater and solar power for its self-sustained operation. The restaurant itself does not necessarily have a menu – essentially Norbert serves what he has (we tasted everything). There was a discussion later during dinner back at the Gîte over the lack of such places in the United States (though one example that comes to mind would be Mrs. Wilkes’ in Savannah as a similar communal dining concept, where groups are seated at shared tables with other guests and served a variety of family-style Southern dishes).
First is a cooking lesson of sorts – while cooking was not the intent of the course, our group was in Norbert’s kitchen to observe the construction of dishes as the components were all of the terroir – fresh fruits and vegetables and spices from his property, the Comte cheese, and his own dried sausages.
We watched as Norbert and his chef-in-training put together the massive potato cakes – similar to large potato latkes, only not Kosher whatsoever, as the dish contained plenty of bacon and was finished with his country-dried sausages. Norbert's cheese fondue, with garlic and wine, included his "secret" ingredient: baking soda, as it adds a more creamy texture. Acting as if it were magic, the chef is "not supposed to say anything" when adding the final ingredients, a symbolic, if a bit superstitious tradition.
Dessert was the most enjoyable phase of the meal, served outside overlooking the Swiss border: blueberry, strawberry, and rhubarb tarts, with a chocolate brownie-like cake were accompanied by a freshly-boiled tea, which included chamomile and other herbs from Norbert's land.
Afterward our group was treated to a show: Norbert called over his cows, in a way "showing off" his extended family. He has a lot of cows, and at one point our group was stuck in a stare down with dozens of cattle. Luckily they were friendly creatures.
Afterward our group was treated to a show: Norbert called over his cows, in a way "showing off" his extended family. He has a lot of cows, and at one point our group was stuck in a stare down with dozens of cattle. Luckily they were friendly creatures.
16:47 in Bouverans: It's a little out of order, but back to the origination of cheese process – milk collection. We had the opportunity to spend more time with Taz on his farm. The Montbeliarde cattle are milked twice per day: early in the morning around 5:00 and in the late afternoon for the evening milking. The cows are taken through what looks like a “cow wash” – where the animals are hosed down before being milked, not only to maintain sanitation, but also to keep away the countless flies. Taz’s milking assembly line is relatively new, but admittedly not the ideal or most-efficient way of doing so. The cows are trained to follow one another in line before stopping at a milking station. Taz discussed another milking system – clusters – which allow for cows to be shifted in and out quicker rather than having to wait in line for the cow in front to complete the milking process.
Taz separates the types of cows on his farm: dairy cows on one side, pregnant heifers and dry cows. He half-jokingly says that it is good, in a way, "because they get exercise." Grazing for the cattle is regulated by the government – there must be one hectare of grazing land available per cow.
Apart from the daily milking, the farmer is constantly busy – fixing fences or collecting hay. Around 300 tons of hay is produced each year by Taz – and of course he believes his is the best. What’s more is his insistence in showing off his massive toy: a bizarre barn house grabber which moves the grasses around in bulk.
Apart from the daily milking, the farmer is constantly busy – fixing fences or collecting hay. Around 300 tons of hay is produced each year by Taz – and of course he believes his is the best. What’s more is his insistence in showing off his massive toy: a bizarre barn house grabber which moves the grasses around in bulk.
Having visited farms before, albeit when I was quite younger, I was fairly familiar with the milking process. However I never did understand the value of hay for grazing and how important it is in the Comte cheese process – what the cows eat will most-definitely affect the flavor of the milk, and thus will be retained in the cheeses when consumed by humans.
What I also did not realize was that we were to stay for the entire evening milking process, which took a good couple of hours. While some students adored spending time around cattle – even able to move past having cow feces and urine splattered on their clothing – most others, myself included, took the route of standing outside in impatience. I did utilize the time to befriend one of Taz’s dogs, named Useless, as he finally gave up barking at me to follow me around for a little bit. That was pleasant.
21:08 at the Gîte: Dinner time where we are served whole-cooked fish, which we are expected to fillet ourselves. This was an intimidating task, leading to partially startled, rather disgusted looks by some of the group. Yet, filleting was a success and we gladly filled our famished selves (although I noticed one classmate, a vegetarian, with nothing on her plate, save for a meager slice of bread).
Growing up in the United States, most everyone is used to having fish pre-filleted when served – why would anyone want to see what is about to be ingested staring back at them? The practice of filleting freshly-caught fish, however, served as a lesson in how many now encounter the separation of production and consumption, especially with once-living creatures. I gather that the French (and other cultures) have a different relationship with their food in that the process of preparing the fish gives a sense of comfort as a better understanding of its origin.
Having an entire fish was a bit off-putting at first, but served as a great opportunity to get over the discomfort – the lack of experience with handling a once-live creature (let alone many meat products) added to the experience. Claire’s "lesson" was successful in that the diner feels more attached to the meat (in addition to her influential lessons on taste, texture, and food anatomy).
What I also did not realize was that we were to stay for the entire evening milking process, which took a good couple of hours. While some students adored spending time around cattle – even able to move past having cow feces and urine splattered on their clothing – most others, myself included, took the route of standing outside in impatience. I did utilize the time to befriend one of Taz’s dogs, named Useless, as he finally gave up barking at me to follow me around for a little bit. That was pleasant.
21:08 at the Gîte: Dinner time where we are served whole-cooked fish, which we are expected to fillet ourselves. This was an intimidating task, leading to partially startled, rather disgusted looks by some of the group. Yet, filleting was a success and we gladly filled our famished selves (although I noticed one classmate, a vegetarian, with nothing on her plate, save for a meager slice of bread).
Growing up in the United States, most everyone is used to having fish pre-filleted when served – why would anyone want to see what is about to be ingested staring back at them? The practice of filleting freshly-caught fish, however, served as a lesson in how many now encounter the separation of production and consumption, especially with once-living creatures. I gather that the French (and other cultures) have a different relationship with their food in that the process of preparing the fish gives a sense of comfort as a better understanding of its origin.
Having an entire fish was a bit off-putting at first, but served as a great opportunity to get over the discomfort – the lack of experience with handling a once-live creature (let alone many meat products) added to the experience. Claire’s "lesson" was successful in that the diner feels more attached to the meat (in addition to her influential lessons on taste, texture, and food anatomy).