|Tim Train with curds for Cojita|
It's not often that we receive the gift of poetry...
So, when Tim Train sent us his poems all the way from Australia, I asked him to give us a few pictures, and he obliged. Tim has 5 blogs and these are from the one he calls - Will Type For Food.
Good morning, good afternoon, good day, good night, or good whateveritisoverthereontheothersideoftheworld!
I am an Australian cheesemaker, who has been working his way somewhat obsessively through the recipes in Ricki's book over the past series of months. Because we have very little room in our little house, the cheeses have over this time found their way on to couches, beds, the tops of pianos, and shower recesses, to the bemusement of both my wife and myself.
I have also been inspired to pen some cheese poetry in honour of, well, cheese.
Said poems have been maturing on my blog for some time, developing their own unique flavours and becoming richer and more satisfying with age. Also, I may have modified one or two spots of spelling.
Here is poem one, written before the Great Cheeseathon of 2012*, inspired by news about the theft of cheese-products from supermarkets...
*The Great Cheeseathon was Tim's latest burst of enthusiasm for making cheese.
A Case of Hit and Rennett
By Tim Train
The Global Retail Theft Barometer 2011 has found that cheese is the most stolen food item in the world, based on a survey of 1,187 retailers in 43 countries.- Caz
Who filched the fetta
Creamed the cream cheese from the shelf,
Who's on the lam with Edam,
Added parma to their pelf?
Who wangled all the Singles,
Put their finger in the Swiss,
Took a motza Mozzarella
Ere we knew what was amiss?
Who touched the Dutch,
Took the camemberts and bries,
Lock, stock and bocconcini
Without so much as please?
There's a lack amongst the lactose
Now the Gorgonzola's gone,
Some rotter took Ricotta
And the Philly's all forlorn -
Who took the cheese?
What could have caused this crime?
Can we put it down to culture,
Or was it just - enzyme?
Poem two was written in the midst of the Great Cheeseathon, inspired by the works of Chaucer and Spencer, or perhaps just inspired by bad spelling:
Yt ys an epystle
By Tim Train
From ye HOUSBOUNDE, away from the house on business, to hys GUDEWIFE, containing sundry matters of various sortes (c. 1550)
|Cream cheese in a butter mold|
Gudewife! Fine greetings from thy housbounde deare,
Thogh I been far, I wyshe thatte I were neare.
I heare that in thy clymes the dayes growe colde -
High tyme yt ys to press cheese in a moulde.
I praye our cattes are healthy, & oure birdes;
Please to make sure they do notte nicke the curdes.
Hast thou a wynter cough, mayhap, or sneeze?
I praye thee not to do yt on the cheese.
I heare telle thatte thy hand is wounded sore -
GREAT GRIEFE! Who'll turne the cheeses over more?
But art thou tired, gudewife? Rest welle yn bedde -
Lest whenne thou turnst the pattes, they weigh like unto leade.
And praye do not thyself hurt spynnyng flaxe,
For yn a daye, or two, deare, we must waxe.
Gude Jesu, in thy whole Edam to-day -...
Gude Lord, I praye for holye cheese thys yeare -
& thou as well, Gudewife. Gudenight, my deare!
|Ziegerkase with rosemary from his garden|
|More fermentation - a demijohn of porter ale maturing|