However, as I quickly learned, the Vermont Cheese Trail is not a tasting tour, though some of the dairies offer samples, and there are no roadside signs. It is the brainchild of the Vermont Cheese Council, a group of around 40 mostly artisan cheesemakers spread around the Green Mountain State. There’s no designated driving route per se. Instead, the Cheese Council has an interactive map on its website that allows a cheese-lover to design their own outing.

Most of the cheesemakers are small dairy farms that started making cheese partly because they were interested in it and partly for income given low milk prices. Surprisingly, it’s hard to find a chunk of cheddar. The cheeses along the trail are as varied as the farmers that make them, from cow’s milk, but also goat’s milk or sheep’s milk.

Each cheesemaker’s ability to welcome visitors varies as well. Some are open most of the time. Some have designated times. Some are by appointment only, and still others don’t allow visitors, though they might have a farmstand. One might allow you to pet its cows or goats. Another might give you a taste of its cheese or sell you some, but maybe not.

“Like a baker when baking, a cheesemaker can’t talk when making cheese,” explains Marty Mundy, executive director of the Vermont Cheese Council. “Over 80 percent of Vermont is farmland, mainly dairy cows, sheep, and crops to feed them. Cheese is the largest agricultural product in Vermont. The best way to experience the Cheese Trail is to pick a region in the state, then plan a day trip.”

 

Shelburne Farms

“In Vermont, Cabot is the largest producer, supporting 1,600 farms,” says Tom Perry, Shelburne Farms’ cheesemonger (sales manager). “We’re independent and big by Vermont standards.

We produce 170,000 pounds of cheese per year, but that’s what Cabot makes in one day.”

I followed Tom into the massive barn complex, excited to learn how Shelburne Farms made cheese, starting with the cows. I expected the milk to come from Holsteins, the iconic black and white cow that I’ve always associated with dairy farms in New England. Instead, Tom introduced me to Jeanne, a Brown Swiss cow, who stood passively in her pen as visitors gathered to learn more about her and dairy cows in general.

“Holsteins produce a large volume of milk, but we call it white water,” said Tom. “Brown Swiss were initially bred for cheesemaking in Europe. Their milk has good components like butter fat and protein. Every 10 pounds of [Brown Swiss] milk produces one pound of cheese.”

We then walked to the cheesemaking section of the barn, where one can watch the process through large windows. We watched two cheesemakers rake the cheese, well, the curd, which had a yogurt-like consistency and filled a large, shallow vat. To my right, a small blackboard outlined the cheesemaking schedule for the day. Next to it, a permanent exhibit explained each step of the eight-hour, intensely hands-on process. This was step four.

From there, we stopped at the calf barn, then the milking parlor, and finally the cow barn, which was empty. “Our cows are outside 24/7, unless there’s a weather event,” said Tom. “We grow our own hay and bring in only a little supplemental grain.”

Shelburne Farms was a perfect introduction to my Vermont cheese tour. It was a family-friendly farm set up for educating people about dairy farming, cheesemaking, and sustainability. However, as I would soon learn, it was only one of many ways that farmers make cheese, and each of those nuances are what gives each type of cheese its unique taste and texture.

 

 

Mount Mansfield Creamery

From Shelburne, I drove up Route 100 to the Mount Mansfield Creamery in Morrisville, where I met Stan Biasini and his daughter Adele. I had called ahead to set up this visit. Stan, who has made cheese for 15 years, welcomes visitors but needs to know in advance. Unlike Shelburne Farms, which has a number of employees and accommodates 200,000 visitors per year, Stan runs his 100-acre farm with his wife. I was one of four people touring his farm that day.

Mount Mansfield Creamery was a traditional family farm and appropriately named. Stan was a longtime ski and snowboard instructor at the nearby Stowe Ski Resort on Mount Mansfield, and one of his hayfields afforded an epic view of Stowe’s trails and Mount Mansfield’s iconic profile.

Stan’s dairy herd was a mix of Holsteins and Brown Swiss totaling 70 cows. After tromping through the woods, we found a few of them in a pasture by a large, fenced-in garden. Stan introduced us to Twitter, a Brown Swiss, who was standing in the shade as another dozen cows munched loudly on the tall grass. Twitter was happy to let us pet her.

“Twitter is the friendliest cow on the farm,” said Stan. “She’s the mother of our other Brown Swiss. We are careful about breeding, but it’s not just the cows that determine the quality of milk and cheese. It’s the terroir, the land. It’s lush here, so the cows are relaxed. Happy cows make happy milk.”

For Mount Mansfield Creamery, that’s about 120 gallons of milk every morning that might become Havarti, Romano, or Parmesan cheese, to name a few of Stan’s small-batch cheeses. Trained as a chef, Stan likes to experiment with making different cheeses. He also makes a French alpine cheese called Halfpipe that’s good for fondue. And this fall, for Oktoberfest at the nearby von Trapp Bierhall, he’s working on a new cheese that has beer in it, called Cheddy Topper.

After meeting the cows, Stan took us to “the caves” in town, where he ages his cheese. The caves are two concrete bunkers, 12 feet underground, that are kept at 92 percent humidity. The shelves were loaded with wheels of cheese.

“What’s your favorite?” I asked. “Patrolman’s Blue, at least today,” replied Stan. “It’s very creamy. It was awarded third place by the American Cheese Society. I never liked blue cheese, personally. It took me five years to get it right, so it’s not crumbly or dry.”

 

 

Boston Post dairy

I thought it might round out my cheese trail experience to include a goat-cheesemaker. The Sage Farm Goat Dairy in Waterbury was nearby, but the owner allows visitors only on Sunday mornings, and it was Monday afternoon. Instead, I continued north to the Boston Post Dairy in Enosburg Falls, another producer of goat cheese. Its Eleven Brothers cheese was named the 2019 second-place winner in its category by the American Cheese Society, which piqued my curiosity.

Arriving at Boston Post Dairy, there was no tour. Instead, I found a sizeable retail shop in part of a barn by the side of the road. I pulled in and immediately several goats strained to get my attention from their pen. A small goat pellet dispensary was on the side of a shed next to them. The goats had obviously been fed many times before, but I was more interested in cheese.

I went into the farm stand, which was filled with coolers of cheese and other Vermont-made foods and crafts. Judging by the offerings in the cooler, the dairy made other types of cheeses besides Eleven Brothers, but since I knew that one, I bought a small wedge, excited to try it.

And so ended my day on the Vermont Cheese Trail, but it was only the beginning of my appreciation of Vermont artisan cheeses. The farmers that produce these delectable dairy treats work extremely hard, but as I learned, it’s also their passion and lifestyle. Everyone I met, regardless of the size and style of their operation, was connected to the land they farmed and their cows, but most of all, they loved to make cheese.