In an old-fashioned children’s rhyme, the cheese stands alone. But in the case of Prairie Breeze, the first specialty cheese to come from the family-owned Milton Creamery, a community of dairy farmers is standing up.
Prairie Breeze cheese — which became a farmers’ market favorite — was new last year to the Milton, Iowa, creamery, which made its first batch of cheddar on May 8, 2006. Dairy farmer and creamery co-owner Rufus Musser and his brother-in-law, Randy High, formed the limited liability corporation after three years of research into the making and marketing of artisan cheeses.
“About five years ago, I was approached by two Amish men. They heard that I had some interest in cheesemaking, so we did research for three years and tried to determine what the cheese market is,” says Musser, who speaks with what he calls a Pennsylvania Dutch accent. He laughs often and refers to himself as the creamery’s “help.” In fact, his 16-year-old-son, Galen, is the one who makes the cheese.
For the Mussers themselves, and for the 16 Amish dairies that supply the milk that goes into each handcrafted curd, Colby, Cheddar and specialty cheese, family means much.
Musser manages the creamery with his brother-in-law, and his wife, Jane, keeps the books — and whatever else needs keeping. Rose, their daughter, bags curds two days a week, and Mark, their youngest son, mows the grass around the creamery and lends a hand to his oldest brother, Rufus IV, who manages the family dairy farm.
The Mussers sell their milk to another cooperative as a kind of safeguard in case the creamery business doesn’t work. “At this point we’ve stuck our necks out,” Musser says.
The creamery gets milk from Country Family Dairies, a corporation formed by farmers whose agricultural ways haven’t changed in 50 years.
“It’s just simply taking care,” says Musser. “You put the cows to pasture, and some of them will eat. … Fifty years ago, they would have fit into the general farming practices.”
The farmers hand-milk all the cows and check the milk for antibiotics before it becomes cheese. While they will treat a sick animal with antibiotics on an individual basis, drugs are not a regular part of the cows’ diets. “The idea is for the well-being of the cow,” Musser explains.
As agricultural products go, cheese is like wine in many ways, he says. As the seasons change, the number and quality of the grasses the cows eat also change, which, in turn, affects the milk. Perhaps the most notable change is color.
“When the cows go out to grass, there will be a lot more color in the milk. It’ll turn a pale yellow — and this is what we find very interesting,” he says.
Because milk naturally reflects the cows’ way of life, it’s easy to guess why small-scale dairy farmers strive to keep their animals out of wild-onion patches. “Wow, we didn’t want onions in our cereal!” Musser jokes.
The Mussers moved in 1992 from Pennsylvania to Iowa and “proceeded to milk cows with the intention that ‘I’ll milk cows until I find something better to do.’ I don’t know if I’ve found something better to do, but I enjoy this!” the farmer says.
In addition to Prairie Breeze, Milton Creamery makes old-style Colbys and Cheddars, some of them flavored, and a variety of curds, plain and seasoned. The cheeses are sold in Iowa at New Pioneer Co-ops in Coralville and Iowa City, Henry’s Village Market, Homestead, and at the Davenport Farmers’ Market May through October. Cheeses also may be ordered online at www.prairiedelightcheese.com. Online, Prairie Breeze goes for $13 per pound.
“The Q-C market has been a real boon to us,” the farmer says. The first Saturday’s sales in Davenport nearly matched a whole season’s worth at the bigger, more affluent farmers’ market in Kansas City, Mo.
“Our conclusion is that the Q-Cs know what a good cheese curd is, and they have a hard time finding a good, fresh curd,” he says. Selling directly to customers allows him to control the freshness of the cheese, and the relationships the family has formed with its regular customers have helped guide them.
“I’m very excited about the local food chain,” he says. “It’s much more believable when you can hand the person the piece of cheese and say, ‘We made this.’ ”
Making cheese has interested Musser since childhood.
“My mother used to make a traditional Schmierkase, a simple farmhouse cheese, at home on the farm growing up. I always had a little bit of an interest there. … When I started the research, I thought, ‘this looks like something I would enjoy,’ ” he says, adding with joyful self-denigration, “but I’m the general cook and bottlewasher around here.”
