About Geitost, Goats, Cheese, and Taste

(As I said, back in Lemming Tracks, this is the last post I'll make, for about 24 hours. Until then, here's a word about Geitost.)

In a previous post, I mentioned gjetost. If you know about this aromatic and unforgettable (no matter how hard you try) goats-milk cheese at all, you probably spell it geitost.

I'm half Norwegian. Growing up, my grandmother sometimes let me east gjetost, a goats-milk cheese. That's pronounced "yaytost," by the way, by this American-English speaker who heard heard the (Oslo-area) Norwegian pronunciation.

I learned that primost was a more 'upper crust' sort of cheese, but I liked my gjetost.

A few years ago, I decided to treat myself to a block. That took a little doing. The stuff's not to be found around central Minnesota now: Scandinavians being what we are, we've abandoned much of our culture over the generations.

And eating habits.

I special-ordered a small amount of gjetost: and discovered that the taste wasn't quite as definite as I remembered. Naturally enough, I thought. It's been upwards of four decades since I tasted it, and my senses may have dulled.

Then I looked at the label. The stuff, made for export to English-speaking countries, was diluted 50-50 with cow's milk!! COW'S milk! No wonder it tasted bland.

Oddly, the closest I've found to gjetost is a Middle-Eastern cheese: and, confound it, I can't remember the name! Frustrating.

I thought, once, of keeping a few goats, so that we could make our own cheese. My wife pointed out all the labor involved in making cheese. She also pointed out that we live in town and that, unlike me, all our neighbors have a sense of smell.