I’m told there’s an old Spanish saying that goat’s milk is for drinking, cow’s milk is for butter, and sheep’s milk is for cheese. Indeed, the three milks are quite different. Goat’s milk is the easiest to digest. Cow’s milk separates, yielding cream for butter. And sheep’s milk tops the charts for fat and protein, the main components of cheese.

Of course, you can make great cheese with any one of them. But blending offers more possibilities, in the same way that a winemaker might soften Cabernet Sauvignon with Merlot. Making cheese from multiple milk types is not new, but the trend line seems to be rising. (I suspect the success of Italy’s La Tur has something to do with that.) The cheeses pictured above are all modern three-milk blends.

Historically, cheesemakers made mixed-milk cheeses because they had mixed livestock. You used the milk you had, and you adapted your methods to the fluctuations. This practice still prevails at farmstead operations like California’s Pennyroyal Farm; in autumn, when the farm’s sheep are dry, the cheeses are 100 percent goat’s milk. In spring, when the ewes return to work, the same cheeses might be 30 percent sheep’s milk. That’s a cheesemaking challenge.

Some blended cheeses are more a response to the milk market. Where sheep’s and goat’s milk are in short supply—as in the U.S.—cow’s milk can stretch them. In that case, blending milks lowers costs and insures a more reliable supply, although that’s not always the motivation.

When tasting mixed-milk cheeses, I try to detect what each milk is adding. Buttery notes are likely from cow’s milk. Sheep’s milk contributes richness and a sort of gamy quality. Goat’s milk adds that unmistakable “goatiness”—you know what I mean—and, in aged cheese, some caramel sweetness.

In my “Tasty Twosomes” class in Napa Valley on May 21, we’ll taste some of my favorite mixed-milk cheeses, including at least one ménage à trois. In the meantime, here’s a guide to some of the best mixed-milk cheeses I know.

Adarre, from France’s Basque region, is a goat-sheep wheel similar to the classic Basque sheep cheese, Ossau-Iraty, but creamier and sweeter. It’s nutty, dense and intense, with a rustic, crusty rind. Adarré is matured for about seven months, enough time to develop a roasted-walnut and goat-caramel aroma and deeply savory flavor.

Alisios, from Spain’s Canary Islands, is a blend of 70 percent cow’s milk and 30 percent goat’s milk. On the outside: Spanish pimentón, which subtly perfumes the interior with that earthy, peppery scent. The flavor is tangy, but with a balancing sweetness. I was not surprised to learn that Alisios won a Super Gold at the World Cheese Awards a few years ago. Adding to its charms, it’s well priced.

Beecher’s Flagsheep, from Seattle, is a two-time American Cheese Society Best of Show. Roughly two-thirds cow’s milk and one-third sheep’s milk, Flagsheep is modeled on bandaged Cheddar but with a twist. Adding Swiss cultures to the milk produces a nuttier, sweeter and less tangy flavor than traditional Chedddar.

Los Cameros, from Spain’s Rioja region, is a crowd pleaser at a great price. A blend of cow, sheep and goat milk—but majority cow—it smells of brown butter, bacon and warm cream. A six-pound wheel aged about six months, it has a rustic natural rind and a firm texture. The flavor opens sweet but finishes tangy. A superb value.

Gabietou, another French gem from the Pyrenees, is a washed-rind wheel from a blend of cow’s and sheep’s milk, roughly two to one. Aging is about four months. Developed about 25 years ago, Gabietou resembles a young Gruyère on the inside, with a silky mouthfeel and nutty aroma that reminds me of peanut butter. Hard to top this one.

Goat Rodeo Farm in Pennsylvania seemed to burst on the scene in 2022 with an awards magnet named Bamboozle. This mixed-milk wheel won its category at the World Championship Cheese contest that year, then placed third overall, out of 1,400 entries, at the American Cheese Society judging. Goat Rodeo uses its own goat’s milk plus purchased cow’s milk for Bamboozle, a 9-pound wheel washed with beer and aged for a couple of months. Note the supple texture, roasted peanut aroma and thin rind.

Meredith Dairy Sheep & Goat Cheese is inevitably the guest favorite when I serve it in a tasting. The pudgy cubes are moist, soft and creamy, bathing in oil infused with thyme, black pepper and garlic. The producers won’t reveal the proportions, only that goat’s milk has the leading role. A sales rep for a large distributor told me that Meredith was the top-selling cheese in their catalog.

Robiola Cavina is one of several mixed-milk robiolas from Lombardy, in northern Italy. Made from 70 percent cow’s and 30 percent goat’s milk, the petite Cavina leaves Italy at about three weeks old. At six weeks or so, it is gooey, with a fridge-filling fragrance of mushroom, cooked cabbage and garlic. Compare it to Guffanti’s Robiola ai Due Latti (sheep and cow) or Caseificio dell’Alta Langa’s Bosina (sheep and cow)—similar styles but different milk blends.