Janet Fletcher

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Born in the U.S.A.

Needless to say, it’s never not American Cheese Month at my house. But in May it’s official. This is the month when cheese merchants give American cheeses extra love—with tastings, cheesemaker appearances, special pricing and other incentives to get you in the store and buying domestic. Keep your eyes out for any festivities or promotions where you shop.

It really has been an amazing quarter-century for American artisan cheese. Apart from Covid’s terrible toll on businesses, the past 25 years have brought a surge in consumer interest and awareness and great leaps forward in cheese quality and diversity. I’ll be sticking to domestic themes all month in Planet Cheese, starting with this post on a few noteworthy cheeses that are, in my estimation, uniquely American.

In alpha order:

Brick Cheese

Brick whiz: Joe Widmer of Widmer’s Cheese

A Wisconsin specialty birthed in the U.S., traditional Brick cheese is pressed with bricks into its distinctive—you guessed it—brick shape. When I visited Widmer’s Cheese several years ago, Joe Widmer was still using his grandfather’s bricks, but he is one of the last Brick cheesemakers to maintain these methods. As a Californian, I have so little familiarity with this cheese style that I’m going to quote the Proudly Wisconsin Cheese website, which, in rather dated language, describes Brick cheese as “the married man's limburger—strong enough to satisfy the serious cheese devotee, but mild enough to keep the spouse in the house.”

Cheddar Curds

If Europe’s cheesemakers sell squeaky, salty cheese curds, I’m not aware of it. Wisconsin, the indisputable curds capital of the nation, sells millions of pounds a year of these rubbery nuggets, so somebody loves them. (I can resist.) A Wisconsin cheese merchant once told me that parents grocery-shopping with children will first pick up a bag of curds to keep the youngsters occupied while they shop.

Cheddar with Chiles

Burger topper: Red Butte Hatch Chile

I have no idea who made the first chile-spiked Cheddar but I’m pretty sure the idea was American, not British, and likely inspired by hot pepper jack. Beehive’s Red Butte Hatch Chile is deservedly popular and my favorite in this well-populated niche. Liven up quesadillas, burgers or mac-and-cheese with this meltable one-alarm Cheddar.

Cottage Cheese

Build a better breakfast: Good Culture Cottage Cheese

Wherever there are dairy farms, there’s fresh cheese—from fromage blanc to ricotta to quark. But in all my travels, I’ve never encountered anything quite like cottage cheese. According to The Oxford Companion to Cheese, cottage cheese originated on dairy farms as a byproduct of butter making. After the cows were milked in the evening, the milk would be left out overnight. In the morning, the surface cream would be scooped off for butter. The skimmed milk would be left in a warm place until it was yogurt-like, then cut into curds and cooked in the whey until the curds firmed up. After draining the whey and rinsing the curds, the farm wife would add a “dressing” of salt and cream. The modern recipe is faster and more hygienic but roughly the same. If you’ve never been a cottage cheese fan, Good Culture Double Cream Cottage Cheese will change your life.

Cougar Gold

Age worthy: WSU’s popular Cheddar

Who knew that cheese in a can could be so tasty and get better with age? Students at Washington State University have been making this one-of-a-kind Cheddar for decades and, deservedly, it has a cult following. (I’m in the cult.) Created in the 1940s by a university dairy scientist working with the Federal government and the American Can Company, Cougar Gold will only improve if you put the tin in your fridge and forget about it. That said, impatient types can rest assured that, on its release at 12 to 16 months, the cheese is mellow, creamy and nutty. If you’re going to order a tin, buy extra for housegifts.

Dry Jack

Golden State greatness: Vella Dry Jack

Aged for at least 8 months, Vella Cheese Company’s Dry Jack —rubbed with cocoa, oil and black pepper—is deeply nutty, with a texture that’s dense and firm but not dry. At a year old, it becomes Special Select and is better yet. It’s such a snackable and affordable cheese and there’s nothing else like it. Legend has it that Dry Jack dates to the First World War, when Italian imports were so scarce that a resourceful cheese distributor aged some fresh jack as a replacement for Parmigiano-Reggiano.

Monterey Jack

It's not the nation’s most compelling cheese—it’s pretty bland—but Monterey Jack accounts for about 10 percent of California’s production. Schoch Family Farmstead produces the only Monterey Jack still made in Monterey County (top image, on the right) and it is outstanding—raw milk, with a natural rind and lots of buttery flavor. It’s worth seeking out if you’re in the Monterey/Santa Cruz/Palo Alto area.

Petite Breakfast Brie

America’s oldest cheese: Petite Breakfast

California’s Marin French Cheese Company has been making this classic since 1865, although until recently it was known simply as Breakfast Cheese. By the mid-1860s, San Francisco was welcoming an onslaught of failed gold miners and putting them to work as longshoremen. Local farms could not supply enough eggs to feed these gentlemen, so Marin French’s founder developed Breakfast Cheese as a morning protein alternative. I believe that makes it the oldest continuously produced cheese in America, although it’s also among the youngest—just a few days old when released. Essentially a miniature unripened Brie, it is mild and milky, with a sour-cream tang.

Franklin’s Teleme

Teleme masters: Franklin Peluso and son Adam

This California original is in the same family as Italy’s Crescenza and Stracchino, but as its innumerable fans will tell you, Franklin’s Teleme (top image, on the left)—a pudgy, floppy square with a powdery coat of rice flour—is in a class of its own. Franklin Peluso’s grandfather created the recipe in 1927 but production has been on-again, off-again in recent years. Fortunately, we are in an “on” phase. This down pillow of a cheese is yeasty and buttery and melts into a puddle on polenta. Put this one on your “try before you die” list.