Good Milk, Good Cheese

With more than a decade in dairy, Caromont Farm looks to the future of cheese production | Photos by John Robinson

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“I thought, if I can make foie gras, I can make goat cheese,” says Gail Hobbs-Page, the owner of Caromont Farm in Albemarle County, as we stand inside her kitchen in Esmont and sample some of her goat cheeses.

Hobbs-Page’s life has always been connected to food.

She grew up on a 125-acre tobacco and peanut farm in North Carolina — the “Caro” of “Caromont,” and was a chef for 27 years, forging relationships with regional farmers before it was the norm and creating simple, seasonal dishes that let the ingredients shine.

But the chef was ready for a new challenge. After being gifted a few dozen goats from musician Dave Matthews (who also owns Blenheim Vineyards in Albemarle County) when his plans to operate a cheese farm crumbled, she found herself with plenty of goat’s milk. She soon began selling “bootleg” cheese to chef friends through the back doors of local restaurants. They loved it.

Hobbs-Page founded Caromont Farm in 2007. After studying artisan cheese making at the University of Vermont, winning second place in 2013 at the American Cheese Society for her Esmontonian and working with Vermont’s famed Jasper Hill Farm, she was faced with an identity crisis.

“The biggest challenge is figuring out what size to be, whether to stay small,” she says. “After the ACS award, everybody wanted our cheese — everybody. So we were ramping up operations.

“That brought strategic decisions that, quite frankly, were heartbreaking and frustrating and scary. We found ourselves not living the lifestyle we wanted.” Hobbs-Page is now moving toward a future of cheese production that focuses more on farm and specialty cheese shop sales, rather than 300-pound bulk orders.

The lifestyle Hobbs-Page does want includes knowing the names of every single goat — her “babies” — on the 25-acre farm; surrounding herself with like-minded people with a “fire in their belly” who cherish the land, animals and farming traditions; using Caromont as a place to educate and engage the community through agritourism, which includes cheese-making classes and goat cuddling; being a part of the food world beyond the kitchen; making something with her own hands; and showcasing the importance of small-scale, farmstead cheese production.

“Farming for food is a holistic approach; it’s not one thing, it’s everything,” she says, while rhythmically pumping milk on a 70-degree morning. “If you don’t understand this whole thing is a process, you won’t be a cheesemaker. It’s not about immediate gratification.”

We walk from her house to “the show,” a fenced-in area housing about 80 goats. Every goat, from the Sonatas to the LaManchas and Nubians, has a purpose, and as we enter, they flock to Hobbs-Page. It’s apparent the goats have distinct personalities. Affectionate and curious, they quickly make it clear that they love to have their heads scratched and bellies rubbed.

“You cannot make good cheese from bad milk, you just can’t do it,” Hobbs-Page says. “The cheese tells the story.”

Caromont’s story is one of nonstop operation. The cheeses are hand-tended and washed every day but Sunday in a 1,000-square-foot space where Hobbs-Page and her assistant cheesemakers make the magic happen.

Anyone entering the guided area must wear a hairnet, put on boots and wash their hands. The goats are milked in the morning, and the milk is then stored in a 200-plus-gallon tank where it is pasteurized. After cultures and rennet (a collection of enzymes) are added, multiple pH readings are taken. Each cheese has a different target pH.

In the ambient room, essentially a walk-in refrigerator filled with stacked grates, the cheeses wait patiently — two to three months, typically — until they reach their full potential. Humidity, temperature and airflow all play major roles in the aging process. Hobbs-Page continually sprays yeast and molds on the cheese during that time, a process called “seeding the cave.”

“This is what we do every day except Sunday,” Hobbs-Page says. “You make cheese, people love it and want more of it, and here I am 12 years later.”