exploit subtly differentiated strains of local bacteria—without microscopes, and long before the advent of the large industrial laboratories that today maintain colonies of microorganisms engineered to manufacturers’ preferences.
The range of English (and early American) fresh cheeses appears to have been much smaller, though there was a demand for what was called “cream cheese”—a term hard to interpret but certainly not much like today’s factoryproduct. Long after the general decline of home-produced fresh cheeses, an occasional English observer would wistfully comment on curd cheeses or “bonnyclabber,” still recalling the rural British past in remote Scottish or Irish districts. In the American Deep South, “clabber,” or “curds and cream,” was a beloved regional dish for generations. After the mid-twentieth century, universalpasteurization andhomogenization of milk would wipe out many of these local favorites.
The tangled paradoxes of the northwestern European legacy wouldn’t be as glaring if not for the fact that people from the region eventually became the voice of progressive diet-and-nutrition officialdom issuing recommendations to the whole human race, with little understanding of their own pre-industrial dairying past. Since at least the late nineteenth century, Western manufacturers andnutritional experts have been exporting versions of the modern Northwestern Cow Belt mentality toLatin America, developing tropical countries, and even the far older dairying zones of the Near East andIndia. This mind-set stacks up pretty woefully against the deeper, broader heritage of northwestern European dairy foods and milk-based cooking. Luckily for us, other possibilities are gaining ground by the minute.
WHERE GLOBAL MILKY WAYS MEET: DAIRY FOODS IN TODAY’S AMERICA
At the dawn of the twenty-first century, the far-flung areas constituting the old Northwestern Cow Belt suddenly find themselves absorbing all manner of contributions from the other three primary milking zones—the gift of peoples who have immigrated from those regions. And considering the predicament to which industrial dairying “progress” has brought us here in the United States, they’re arriving not a moment too soon.
In the late 1960s, just beforeimmigration from every corner of the globe had begun to skyrocket, the American food scene represented either the collision course or the prolonged romance of two goals reflecting opposite sides of the northwestern European market ideal. One was to get as many differentiated products as possible before the buying public, the other to weed out all possible alternatives that interfere with profits. Both aims still merrily coexist, with lunatic results exemplified by, let’s say,yogurt.
You can now walk into thousands of supermarkets and take your pick of “amaretto cheesecake” or “lemon cream pie” nonfat yogurt; low-fat yogurt with a choice of chocolate chips, granola, or Reese’s Pieces as topping; or milk-free vanilla or chocolate soy yogurt—without necessarily being able to find any item that people brought up on the real thing would recognize as plain yogurt worth putting a spoon into.
The tide of immigration from the world’s older dairying strongholds has redrawn the picture. Depending on where you live, you may have access to grocery stores or even supermarkets with fresh, creamy, and soul-satisfying plainyogurt made by small companies for particular immigrant communities. What’s more, a taste for plain whole-milk yogurt from sheep’s or combined sheep’s and goats’ milk has begun crossing over fromTurkish- or Greek-born consumers to growing numbers of other Americans. Rich, intense Greek-made yogurt partly drained of whey in true Yogurtistan tradition has developed a following here among many food lovers.
Densely toothsomeyogurt made from buffaloes’ milk now regularly reaches some specialty food stores. Start frequenting small restaurants specializing in
The range of English (and early American) fresh cheeses appears to have been much smaller, though there was a demand for what was called “cream cheese”—a term hard to interpret but certainly not much like today’s factoryproduct. Long after the general decline of home-produced fresh cheeses, an occasional English observer would wistfully comment on curd cheeses or “bonnyclabber,” still recalling the rural British past in remote Scottish or Irish districts. In the American Deep South, “clabber,” or “curds and cream,” was a beloved regional dish for generations. After the mid-twentieth century, universalpasteurization andhomogenization of milk would wipe out many of these local favorites.
The tangled paradoxes of the northwestern European legacy wouldn’t be as glaring if not for the fact that people from the region eventually became the voice of progressive diet-and-nutrition officialdom issuing recommendations to the whole human race, with little understanding of their own pre-industrial dairying past. Since at least the late nineteenth century, Western manufacturers andnutritional experts have been exporting versions of the modern Northwestern Cow Belt mentality toLatin America, developing tropical countries, and even the far older dairying zones of the Near East andIndia. This mind-set stacks up pretty woefully against the deeper, broader heritage of northwestern European dairy foods and milk-based cooking. Luckily for us, other possibilities are gaining ground by the minute.
WHERE GLOBAL MILKY WAYS MEET: DAIRY FOODS IN TODAY’S AMERICA
At the dawn of the twenty-first century, the far-flung areas constituting the old Northwestern Cow Belt suddenly find themselves absorbing all manner of contributions from the other three primary milking zones—the gift of peoples who have immigrated from those regions. And considering the predicament to which industrial dairying “progress” has brought us here in the United States, they’re arriving not a moment too soon.
In the late 1960s, just beforeimmigration from every corner of the globe had begun to skyrocket, the American food scene represented either the collision course or the prolonged romance of two goals reflecting opposite sides of the northwestern European market ideal. One was to get as many differentiated products as possible before the buying public, the other to weed out all possible alternatives that interfere with profits. Both aims still merrily coexist, with lunatic results exemplified by, let’s say,yogurt.
You can now walk into thousands of supermarkets and take your pick of “amaretto cheesecake” or “lemon cream pie” nonfat yogurt; low-fat yogurt with a choice of chocolate chips, granola, or Reese’s Pieces as topping; or milk-free vanilla or chocolate soy yogurt—without necessarily being able to find any item that people brought up on the real thing would recognize as plain yogurt worth putting a spoon into.
The tide of immigration from the world’s older dairying strongholds has redrawn the picture. Depending on where you live, you may have access to grocery stores or even supermarkets with fresh, creamy, and soul-satisfying plainyogurt made by small companies for particular immigrant communities. What’s more, a taste for plain whole-milk yogurt from sheep’s or combined sheep’s and goats’ milk has begun crossing over fromTurkish- or Greek-born consumers to growing numbers of other Americans. Rich, intense Greek-made yogurt partly drained of whey in true Yogurtistan tradition has developed a following here among many food lovers.
Densely toothsomeyogurt made from buffaloes’ milk now regularly reaches some specialty food stores. Start frequenting small restaurants specializing in
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