Because of Bayley Hazen Blue
“Do you like blue cheese?” Becca, the cheesemonger asked as I stood at the cheese counter of our small, locally owned fine foods market. “Yes, I do,” I replied. “Then you have to try this. I’ve just cut into the wheel,” she said, as she handed me a taste of Bayley Hazen Blue.
It was an extraordinary moment in an ordinary day, the moment it touched my tongue. Not at all brash and bold, as blue can sometimes be, this cheese was nuanced, deeply complex, creamy (oh, so creamy), and sure. Instantly, I knew where this Bayley Hazen needed to be: combined with wild mushrooms in Smitten Kitchen’s Wild Mushroom and Stilton Galette. I told Becca so. Her face brightened because, even though she didn’t know, she knew, and asked for the recipe.
As for the wild mushrooms, I’ll check first a couple blocks over, in the tiny farmer’s market shop on Main Street where I buy raw milk. A mushroom grower who lives over the mountain sometimes has them for sale there, plump and fresh, mounded in paper strawberry pots. I’ll buy them, along with a half gallon of cream-laden milk and some garden tomatoes that smell like the vine they’ve just been picked from. As I turn to leave with my full basket in hand, I’ll thank Shauna, the sales lady, and say I’ll see her next week, because I always do see her next week (and I know she’ll likely be wearing a different assortment of brightly colored, sparkly faux jewelry and playing Candy Crush Saga when I walk in - it’s her sister, Christine, who’s the dairy farmer, after all).
Then, at the natural foods market on the other end of town, in the small bulk section, I’ll refill my olive oil bottle, for sautéing those mushrooms (along with the called-for butter), and while I’m there, I’ll fill a jar each of pecans and almonds, too (granola coming up). Carly’s there today to ring me up. Carly, the college student who has a penchant for books and reading. When I place my basket of goods on the counter at checkout, our weekly “book club” meeting begins. We never read and discuss the same book, as is typical for book clubs who have no quotes, we simply pick up where we left off and talk about books in general - favorites, current reads, all of it. There are no drinks to sip or hors d’oeuvres to nibble in our brief meetings, (though there may be samples of something enticing in mini muffin papers on the checkout counter), but this doesn’t seem to be a concern.
These are my people. The small shops, the local purveyors. And the farmers, ranchers, crafters, makers, and bakers behind them. It’s connection and relationship and sharing. It’s food and nourishment, too, but it’s so much more than the (delicious) things I carry home in my bags.
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Hello, loves! It’s September and I’m here and your here! Let’s do fall together ;)
