GOT MY GOAT (CHEESE)

It’s Goat Day in Málaga! Closing a two-month celebration of the Cabra Malagueña, the Málaga breed of goat, are events for school kids (chance to feed a baby goat with a bottle), a sculpture show and gastronomy tastings.

“Oh My Goat” is the sculpture show, sponsored by the Málaga newspaper, Diario Sur, consisting of 40 life-size goats of molded fibre glass, each one painted or “decorated” by a different Málaga artist. (To see all of them, go to this web page  http://ohmygoat.diariosur.es/oh-my-goat.html .)

Málaga-breed goat (photo by Assoc. de Criadores de la Cabra Malagueña).

The breed, Cabra Malagueña (http://www.cabrama.com/index ), is a short-haired, cinnamon-colored goat, autochthonous to Málaga province. It is noted for being especially fertile and a good milk producer, adaptable to arid terrain where it makes good use of natural pasturage. There are around 200,000 Málaga-breed goats in the province, producing 70 million liters of milk per year. About 90 percent of the milk goes to big industrial cheese makers in La Mancha, Barcelona and France.

Call lost and found--abandoned goat.

 I got my own goat. Getting rid of her was the hard part. It happened on Christmas Day, when the goatherd brought his herd across the hillside—as he has done many, many times before. Maybe he had had too much holiday brandy, because he lost control of his flock, which destroyed my vegetable garden. He finally drove them off my property and headed back over the hill. But he left one goat behind. Oddly, she had no bell. She moseyed about, cropping grass, shrubs and weeds. At night, when it rained a bit, she bumped at the front door, begging to be let in. I did not let her in!

Yes, there were jokes about goat stew. And, “milking it for all it’s worth”. (I wondered if she needed milking—apparently not, but I wouldn’t have known). She had an ID tag on her ear—but there was no one to call during a holiday week. It was nine days before we finally located the owner, who came to retrieve her. The goat was fine.


Years ago, there were several herds of goats in the village. They went out every morning to graze. As they passed through the streets, housewives would come out with their pails and the goatherd would milk the goats at their doorstep. The warm milk was carried to the kitchen and brought three times to a boil in a special milk-boiler. It was then ready to be poured into coffee, whisked into thick drinking chocolate, or cooked in a sweet pudding.

During the milking season, the goatherds made cheese with the excess milk, which I used to buy at a neighborhood shop. It was a small round  of very white curds, marked by the woven esparto grass molds in which it was pressed. The cheese was soft and fresh, very mild in flavor, lightly salted. I never suffered any ill effects from eating raw-milk cheese, but I knew people who did. Nowadays it is prohibited by health regulations to sell fresh cheese made from unpasteurized milk.

So, along with a culinary colleague who was visiting (Lars Kronmark, who is a chef-instructor of culinary arts at the Culinary Institute of America (CIA http://www.ciachef.edu/california/) Greystone in Napa Valley, California), I went to see how goat’s milk cheese is made at an artisanal cheesemaker, El Pastor del Valle, http://www.elpastordelvalle.com/entrada.html  in the nearby town of Alhaurín el Grande (Málaga).

Antonio Vera de la Rosa tends 750 Málaga-breed goats and his wife, Josefa (Pepi) Burgos Carabantes, makes cheese.

The dairy produces fresh cheese, semi-cured, cured, viejo (aged), raw-milk cured cheese, goat’s milk yogurt, requesón (ricotta) and processed cheese spread.

The milk comes by truck from the farm, where the goats are milked twice a day. The fresh cheese (queso fresco) starts with pasteurization of the milk. That destroys both good and bad bacteria and also changes the calcium balance of the milk. The curdling agent—rennet, a substance taken from baby goats—along with calcium chloride, which restores the calcium balance and firms up the curds, are added to the warm milk, which is allowed to set until it begins to curdle, or form curds.

The curds are cut with a lira, or lyre, a mechanical arm with steel threads that cuts the curds into bits about the size of lentils. The whey is allowed to drain off. The whey is collected—some is heated to make requesón—the same as ricotta, which just means “re-cooked”—the rest goes to feed pigs or, Pepi tells us, as fertilizer in avocado groves!

Pepi and her helper pack the curds into cheese-cloth-lined two-part plastic molds. The molds show a crosshatch pattern that mimics the woven esparto grass strips that were used in traditional cheese making. The molds are mounted on a horizontal press and squeezed to release further liquid.

Pepi, left, is the master cheese maker. Lars, center, learns how Spanish goat cheese is made.

Removed from the molds, fresh cheeses are ready for brining.

Splash! Cheeses go into the salmuera, a 15-percent salt solution, where they stay for 2 hours. Once drained, the fresh cheese is ready to eat. It keeps, refrigerated, for about 20 days.

 Fresh goat’s cheese is my favorite snack food—toasted bread, olive oil, slices of cheese and raw onion. It also works as a dessert—serve it with a dribble of honey and some walnuts.

Semi-cured and cured cheese made from pasteurized milk start out much the same, but they require the addition of lactic fermentation agents, which are destroyed by pasteurization, that convert milk sugar into lactic acid, producing the characteristic cheese flavor. Semi-cured cheese needs a minimum of 20 days of aging; cured, more than 2 months, and viejo, aged, more than 6 months.

The rinds are rubbed with olive oil. Some are dusted with rosemary or pimentón (paprika), which add flavor.

Semi-cured cheese--good for melting.

 Pepi says she makes raw milk cheese maybe only once a month, because it requires a very stringent hygienic protocol. Raw-milk cheese requires nothing further than rennet, as the milk’s natural bacteria provide the lactic ferments that give it character. It does require aging a minimum of two months, after which it is safe to eat.

The raw milk cheese from El Pastor del Valle is rubbed with Ibérico pork fat, adding another layer of umami flavor to the cheese, which is slightly splintery, slightly piquant.

Today’s cheese making produces about 300 half-kilo (1-pound) cheeses from about 750 liters (quarts) of milk.  Expand? No, says Pepi. “We don’t want to be big industry. We want to make only what we can store and sell.” El Pastor del Valle distributes to shops in Málaga province and, by order, to restaurants.

Raw milk cured goat's milk cheese.

 Uvas y queso saben de beso. Grapes and cheese taste like a kiss. A little breathy, very sweet.  I love raw milk cured goat's cheese with amontillado Sherry or with a verdejo white wine. Tannins in red wine seem to get in the way of the flavors of aged goat’s cheese.

Woven strips of esparto once used to mold the fresh cheese.

Málaga-breed dairy goats (photo from Associacion de Criadores).

HEARTY CABBAGE SOUP

Hearty cabbage soup for a chill winter's day.

Lurking in the fridge was half a cabbage, waiting for inspiration. When cold, drizzling rain sent me searching through my soup recipes for something warming, I came upon an entry for “dry” soup with cabbage, a specialty of Mallorca (Balearic Islands). Inspiration!

“Dry” soup? Because bread is added to soak up all the tasty broth. The word “soup” derives from “sop,” after all.  Sopa, in Spanish, comes from the same root--pieces of bread soaked in broth.

The simple version of this soup is completely vegan. The flavor comes from olive oil and vegetables—no stock is required. However, it can be embellished with scraps of fried ham or a poached egg on top for each person.

Ladle bread, vegetables and liquid into individual soup bowls.

Mallorcan “Dry” Soup with Cabbage
Sopas Mallorquinas

Other vegetables—cauliflower, chard, carrots, spinach, kale—can be used instead of or in addition to the cabbage.

Serves 6.

Chop the cabbage.

8 slices whole wheat bread (12 ounces)
¼ cup olive oil
1 ½ cups chopped leeks and/or onions
½ cup chopped green bell pepper
1 cup peeled and chopped tomato (or canned)
3 cloves garlic, chopped
Red pepper flakes (optional)
2 tablespoons chopped parsley
½ cabbage, chopped (5 cups)
2 teaspoons salt
Freshly ground black pepper
4 cups water

Use whole wheat bread.

Preheat oven to 350ºF. Place the bread on a baking sheet and brush with 1 tablespoon of the oil. Toast in the oven, turning once, until browned on both sides, about 12 minutes.

Heat the remaining oil in a deep pan and sauté the chopped leeks, onion and green pepper until soft. Add the tomatoes and garlic and cook a few minutes more, then add red pepper flakes, parsley and chopped cabbage.

Season with salt and pepper, add 4 cups of water, bring to a boil, then cover and simmer until vegetables are tender, about 30 minutes.

Layer the bread, vegetables and broth.

Place a layer of toasted bread in a large cazuela. With a slotted spoon or skimmer, add a layer of the cooked vegetables. Cover with another layer of bread, then vegetables, until all have been used. Pour over all the liquid plus enough boiling water to just barely cover the bread and vegetables.

Cover the cazuela and let stand for 15 minutes, until the liquid is absorbed. Ladle the bread, vegetables and liquid into individual bowls. Serve hot or room temperature.

I enjoyed the soup, the second-time around, reheated in the oven with sliced cheese on top.

ALONG THE SPOON-FOOD TRAIL

Prepare your spoons! Stew with chickpeas, chard and sausages.

Tuck your napkin under your chin and get your spoons at the ready because we’re off on the “spoon trail.” The comida de cuchara—a meal eaten with a spoon—is favorite fare in Spain, especially in blustery winter weather. In today’s high-powered world, even well-heeled businessmen and politicos have a weakness for comforting bowls of spoon food—lentils like mamá used to make or abuela’s potaje.


So, when a visiting friend, Lars Kronmark, who is a chef-instructor of culinary arts at the Culinary Institute of America (CIA) at Greystone in Napa Valley, California, said he wanted to taste some typical Spanish soups, I looked to village bar-restaurants for traditional dishes.

During January, February and March, every Friday and Saturday in my town, Mijas Pueblo, a dozen bars are participating in the Ruta del Cuchareo, or “route of the spoon,” offering a cazuelita (earthenware ramekin) of soup or stew plus a glass of wine for just €2 (about $2.70).

We weren’t going from bar to bar, so I chose one, El Refugio (www.barelrefugio.es), for a spoon-food tasting menu for six persons. We had several salads and tapas as starters, then sampled three different soups/stews.

Lars serves a bowl of berza.

 Are they soups or stews? I had trouble deciding what to call them when I was writing recipes for my cookbooks. Most have either legumes, such as chickpeas or beans, or rice. Some are really soupy, others fairly thick. In Spanish, the word potaje covers this category nicely. But “pottage” in English doesn’t sound so enticing. 

Soupy rice and seafood.

Cazuela de arroz—rice with chicken, fish and shrimp—is sort of a “paella soup.” Carlos Boeta, owner of the Bar El Refugio, told us that making a flavorful fondo, or stock, is the most important part. My recipe for cazuela de arroz makes a rice dish not so soupy as the one shown here.

Because this week is the día de San Antón, the festival of St. Anthony Abbot, patron of pigs and other animals, we had to sample the typical feast-day food, potaje de callos, chickpeas, pig tripe, trotter and sausages. That recipe as well as some photos of the fiesta, when locals bring their pets to be blessed by the priest, is here .

Chickpeas, pig tripe and sausages for San Antón day.

And, possibly my favorite soup/stew of all—berza de acelga, an Andalusian vegetable stew chock full of chickpeas, meat, sausages, chard and other vegetables. The version served at El Refugio, made by the cook, Rocio, is soupier than my version, pictured at the top. I wrote about berza on an earlier blog post http://mykitcheninspain.blogspot.com.es/2011/03/carnaval-pre-lenten-pig-out.html. Here is that recipe.

Berza, with chickpeas and chard, at Bar El Refugio, Mijas.

Andalusian Vegetable Stew
Berza Andaluza


Morcilla, blood sausage, and chorizo punch up the flavor in this vegetable stew. If you don’t have morcilla, add a pinch of clove, a spoonful of pimentón (paprika) and crushed garlic to the vegetable pot.

Serves 6.

½  pound chickpeas, soaked overnight
¾  pound beef shin or pork shoulder
½  pound meaty pork spareribs, cut crosswise into short lengths
Small piece of ham bone (optional)
2 ounces pancetta
1-pound bunch of chard
1 carrot, chopped
1 pound pumpkin or winter squash, peeled and cut in chunks
6 ounces morcilla (blood) sausage
6 ounces chorizo
5 peppercorns
1 teaspoon salt
1 pound potatoes, peeled and cut in 1-inch chunks

Drain the chickpeas. Put them in a large soup pot with 8 cups of hot water. Bring to a boil and skim off froth. Add the beef, pork rib and ham bone, if using. When water boils, skim again.  Reduce heat, cover and simmer for 1 hour.

Chop the chard. Add to the pot with the carrot and pumpkin. Prick the morcilla several times with a skewer (so it doesn’t pop open when steam accumulates) and add it to the pot. Add the peppercorns and salt. Cover and simmer 20 minutes more.

Add the potatoes. Cook 20 minutes more. Remove several chunks of potatoes and pumpkin and mash them smooth. Stir the mash into the pot to thicken the broth.

Let the stew settle 10 minutes before serving. Cut beef, pork rib, and sausage into pieces. Serve the chickpeas, meats, vegetables and broth in shallow soup dishes.