Curds Worth the Wait

I always buy all of the November food magazines. I like to see what menus the editors have planned for the gluttonous holiday, Thanksgiving. Sometimes I find a recipe for yams that looks tempting, or a new way to shred my brussels sprouts, but usually I stick to the tried and true standbys that I love to make each fall. What can I say? I am a traditionalist. But the magazines stay dog-eared, pages crumpled beside my bedside table for the whole month of November.

But this November was different. Amongst the recipes for Fennel, Red Onion and Focaccia Stuffing, which I won't be making, I saw a recipe for homemade ricotta cheese in Food and Wine magazine. Well, I love a good project. And if that project involves a mess of milk, a bit of cream, and not a whole lot else, well-- even better. Off to the market I went, returning home with a small bag of ingredients, and the will to make cheese.

First I cooked my milk and cream to 185 degrees. Turning off the stove, I then added three tablespoons of white vinegar. I watched as what moments ago was a steaming, luscious vat of smooth milk became a clumpy, curdled mass almost immediately. I added a bit of salt, continued stirring for a few seconds more, then covered the milk with a clean cloth and let it set for two hours.

Setting a cheese cloth-lined colander in a large bowl, I scooped the curds that had risen to the top of the milk mixture out with a slotted spoon. What was left, was quite a bit of whey, and a portion of milky white curds. I then gathered up the corners of the cheese cloth and tied the cloth to a wooden spoon. This created a hammock for my curds to continue to drain off whey.

After one half hour, the curds were sufficiently drained, I untied the cheese cloth and unfurled my handiwork. One taste of this ricotta, still warm from the cooking, and I was in milkmaid heaven. The taste is clean and pure, hardly salted, it is more of a texture rather than a flavor. I have eaten ricotta of all sorts: freshly made by a cheese monger, conventionally made and ready to be served from plastic containers, and now homemade. And let me tell you, the homemade is the best-- hands down.

Although I could have eaten this ricotta plain, like yogurt, I restrained myself. I served it in a variety of ways in the passing days: stirred into a risotto-like dish; spooned on top of plump, homemade gnocchi; dabbed on an apple galette; and spread on crusts of bread, crostini style. The process may take awhile, but the ricotta is definitely worth the wait.

The complete recipe can be found here.