Cheese heaven – the way it’s meant to be
Aserious financial investor I was speaking to the other day told me he’d instructed his fund manager to ‘‘redefine’’ his portfolio – the first thing on his wish list being to dump his Fonterra shares. It doesn’t surprise me – rock star companies can be like rock star economies – they turn belly-up by whims of commodity markets, fluctuating currencies, even peddling risky infant milk formula to the Chinese.
I’m not sympathetic. For years, Fonterra diddled me to into drinking their homogenised tasting milk, and it wasn’t until I tasted fresh, raw milk again from Village Milk at Motupipi that I woke up to what I’d been missing out on – real-tasting milk. I must have forgotten, because I had a house cow once.
The same goes for cheese – our market flooded with blocks of Mild, Tasty, and Edam for a bit of variation. Thanks, Fonterra, for nothing – no taste worth celebrating, anyway.
I must admit my big cheese wakeup call came only last month, when I visited Kervella Cheese, a small boutique cheese maker at East Takaka. It proved a revelation.
Alan Cockman and Gabrielle Kervella came to live on their four hectares of totara-studded river terrace at East Takaka five years ago. From their tiny fromagerie built into a stainless steel-lined shipping container, they now create a unique range of modern cheeses found nowhere else in New Zealand.
Forget the usual artisanal cheese styles – the likes of feta, camembert and haloumi – Kervella Cheese has developed its own unique styles, derived from ancient techniques. And each one tastes divine.
The furthest any of the couple’s cheeses seem to make it is Nelson, Marlborough, and occasionally Wellington, so snapped up are they by a steady stream of devoted customers.
Much of it goes at the Saturday Market in Takaka, where Kervella Cheese has a regular stall. Its products include three ages of Pikiki hard cheese, a dried wash rind, a white-blue cheese, and a raw milk cheese soon to follow.
It’s interesting that the cheese varieties are named after emotional attributes – Love, Blush, Innocence, Essence, Temptation, Knowledge and Wisdom. Not surprising when you realise Alan studied philosophy.
By far their most popular cheese is Love, a semi-soft white rind cheese that melts in your mouth and leaves you thinking you won’t bother with bland camembert ever again.
Alan was born in Kent, and moved to South Africa when he was 17, working his way up to the position of foreman in the engineering division of Clover Dairies, a big dairy company there.
‘‘I realised the most important man in the whole factory was the guy who made the ‘starters’, because they dictate everything. We became friends, and he encouraged me to study dairy microbiology, specialising in raw milk cheese.’’
Alan later shifted to Australia, with Gabrielle sponsoring him out, and the couple came to New Zealand in 2008. Gabrielle, a trained concert violinist, is the daughter of Riwaka-born war hero Major-General Sandy Thomas.
She recalls her childhood: ‘‘We lived all over the place – Africa, India, Arabia, post-war Germany. When my father became a diplomat, we shifted to Canberra.’’
Australia was where Gabrielle set up the first biodynamic goat farm in the Southern Hemisphere. Her subsequent mastery of cheesemaking earned her Australia’s top cheese award in 1996-98, and she was invited to France to be a cheese judge at that country’s top awards.
Alan and Gabrielle certainly could have picked an easier life.
Alan’s day starts at 3.45am, when he does a boil-up to wash everything down in their tiny factory. Then he heads over to the adjoining dairy farm owned by the Manson family, and grabs the first batch of milk that hits the vat, a modest 200 litres a week in total.
‘‘The first milk is the best,’’ Alan explains. ‘‘That’s because the strongest, healthiest ‘bully’ cows usually push their way to the front and get milked first. ‘‘
Well-tested balanced soils along with the Mansons’ sound biological farming methods are the reasons why Kervella sources its milk from this farm.
From that collection point, the milk is not pumped any more – at most, it’s gently paddled. Moulding, turning and packing ensue before the incessant washing down at the end of the day.
‘‘This country could be at the forefront of cheese production, concentrate on quality and develop new styles,’’ Alan reckons. ‘‘The era of big dairy is over. We used to be like this, little factories producing their own styles.
‘‘Even Golden Bay’s old cheese factory at Rockville used to make great cheese before they switched to packet starters, instant cake mix stuff.’’
This couple believe we should go back to cheesemaking being an apprenticed profession, not a factory job. In France, cheesemakers are regarded as artisans.
The Ministry of Primary Industries, with all its regulations, has put the fear of God into producers as it tries to set hygiene and process standards to protect the public from under-qualified producers.
It’s only been 10 years since cheesemakers have been able to use raw milk again, says Alan.
‘‘We have to remember the cleaner things are, the more bacteria that can get in, bad as well as good. Understanding the microbiological processes is critical, even if I depend more on my nose these days, and Gabrielle has a nose for cheese which is far better than mine.’’
These master cheesemakers are hoping to inspire a new generation into their craft by selling ready-togo micro-fromagerie, complete with the unique recipes and starter cultures that can be worked by one person, which they liken to ‘‘a chef in a galley’’.
I have seen the future of cheese, and it does not resemble Fonterra.