Miles of Two-Strand Topped with Barbed Wire Laid by the Father For the Son

Yesterday morning I was pondering what to do and I decided that I needed to get out of the city. That's one of the great things about Madison: no matter where you are in the city, you're never more than, say, six miles from being out in the country. The handy Farm Fresh Atlas for Southern Wisconsin and felt like Horace Greeley, "Go northeast young man!" (Well, John Soule, actually.) I spied the entry for Sassy Cow Creamery and thought that ice cream was a good idea since it was to be a warm day. It would be me, The Dulcinea, and her youngest, M. My Internet went down (Anyone else having issues with Charter recently?) so I had The D check out the creamery's website. As luck would have it, yesterday was Part II of their grand opening extravaganza. I threw a cooler in my trunk and was off to pick up my love and M.

While the mailing address for the creamery is Columbus, it apparently lies in Bristol Township, just north of North Bristol. According to the incredibly handy Dane County Place Names, Bristol was named after Bristol, Ontario County, New York, which was the former home of David Wilder, who suggested the name. Wilder came to these parts in 1842 and his suggestion became official when the town separated from Sun Prairie on 11 March 1848. As for North Bristol, the genesis of the name is obvious but it didn't become official until 1876 when a post office was established.



If you go north on N from Sun Prairie, you can't miss the big red building. There were many a car parked in the lot and on the roads – the joint was hoppin'. We parked and immediately made our way to the free samples. I started with two fingers of chocolate milk before trying the strawberry. Both were quite tasty. Not overly sweet and not syrupy like the stuff you generally find in stores such as Dean's. Two more fingers of unflavored moo juice to cleanse the palate and I headed for the ice cream.



I can now personally vouch for the creamy goodness of the chocolate and strawberry varieties. An adjacent table lured me with its promise of free samples of cheese. Walking over there, I found these two gentlemen:



On the left you have Bert Paris (I hope I'm getting these names right) of Edelweiss Creamery who kindly let me sample some fine cheddar and gouda. He also explained that they are the only North American company that makes traditional 180-pound wheels of Swiss. Screw California! Wisconsin is also home to the only cheesemaker in the country (on the continent?) who makes Limburger – that'd be Myron Olson down in Monroe at the Chalet Cheese Cooperative. Screw California!

Next to Bert is his brother Ron from the Sugar River Dairy and they make some fine yoghurts. I'd bought some a couple weeks previously at the North Side Farmer's Market and it was a pleasure to make the acquaintance of the CEO. The Paris brothers were both extremely amicable and were happy to take time to answer questions and, in general, push their products in the friendliest Midwestern way.

Before venturing inside, I paused to take a peek at a calf who was penned up and trying to sleep as children threw straw and yelled at it. Note to parents: control your kids. If some cow disturbed your brats why they were trying to take a nap, you'd probably get pissed off. So how about trying to install a little respect for farm animals into your kids?



Inside I found a virtual dairy cathedral with the walls of the vaulted space lined with old milk bottles.



There were also coolers aplenty filled with cheeses, yoghurt, milk, etc. In addition, there were other locally-produced products such as Hawkwind Mustard and Relish (Baraboo), Potter's Crackers (Madison), maple syrup, and flavored honeys. These folks weren't messing around when it came to buying local. Next came a tour of the dairy. We met Bruce, the plant manager out back where tank trucks (of the quad axle variety) unload their milk. He then led us through a maze of stainless steel explaining all the while how the milk goes from cow to bottle. Sassy Cow is a farmstead operation which means that all the milk they sell comes from their own cows.



In the photo above, the left hand tank is for the milk of its 100 or so organic cows while the larger one on the right is for conventional milk from a herd of 400-500 cows. Now, here's the room where most of the action takes place:



All the pasteurizing and homogenizing actions takes place here as does the flavoring which occurs in the big 1000 gallon tank in the center. After watching the bottling operation work is slow motion, it was back outside to catch the tour bus which would take us to the farm.

During the tour of the dairy, there were two or three older couples and some of them asked about the herds and milking schedules. Poor Bruce couldn’t answer and referred them to Bob on the farm tour. These folks were in their 70s, if not older, and there was no doubt in my mind that they were dairy farmers from back in the day. They were surely very familiar with all the old fashioned dairy farm accoutrement on display outside from the time when farming was less mechanized than it is today. The tones of their voices were not that of typical townie curiosity. Instead they sounded like they were giving a friendly interrogation to ensure that family farm traditions were being upheld. I waited for one of them to start saying, "Back when I was dairy farmer…" but that never happened. Still, no doubt those folks had some good stories to tell.


(That's me in a moment of omphaloskepsis wherein I deeply contemplated chocolate ice cream.)

Soon we hit the road in an old school bus which brought back memories of my high school days up nort.





Our tour guide was Bob Baerwolf who owns Sassy Cow with his brother James. He was quick to point out that his mother, Mary, was aboard and that it was his parents who helped them start up the creamery. If memory serves, James lives near the organic herd and takes care of it while Bob and his family's home is by the conventional cows. The bus made only a brief stop at the organic barn as the cows were out grazing in the field. And so we headed out to the other farm where we could get up close and personal with the conventional herd. They say that the sense of smell is intricately tied to our memories and that proved true as we approached the barns. The aroma of cow shit permeated my nostrils and I was thrown back once again to my high school days up nort by Eau Claire. Don't misunderstand me – I didn't live on a farm. But many of my friends did so hanging out with cows and other farm animals was not exactly a foreign concept to me. Anyway, the cows were eating and relaxing.







A section of the barn was home to heifers or at least mothers-to-be. Our luck was in and there was one who was in the throes of labor with her amniotic sack or whatever it was hanging out. It was real All Creatures Great and Small stuff.



Bob said that she was about an hour out from delivering a calf and that roughly 75% of cows give birth without assistance from we meddling humans. But, for those difficult instances, he had installed a camera system so he can keep an eye on things from his house. As I watched, a pair of hooves started to protrude. The miracle of life! Unfortunately, none of my photos of this were in focus so head over to The Dulciena's blog some time as I'm sure she'll have better photos than me.

Soon enough, it was time to head back to the store. Once we had returned, it was time to shell out some of my hard-earned lucre. I got some milk, a wedge of Ededweiss cheddar, some Sugar River yoghurt, and a pound of bacon from Fountain Prairie Farms who had replaced Edelweiss outside and were giving away samples of their beef sticks and summer sausage. Mmm…The D and I had some of the bacon this morning and I must tell you that it's absolutely fantastic. Just the right amount of smoke, not too salty, and the flesh has this great creamy texture. The stuff just melts in your mouth.

The Dulcinea ended up with a farmer's tan and hay in her hair while we all smelled like farm. It doesn't take long for your clothes to become imbued with that scent against which even Tide is powerless. M. got a chance to hang out on a farm and eat lots of ice cream. For my part, I enjoyed the countryside and the slow pace. I asked M. at one point if he wanted to be a farmer when he grew up and he replied harshly, "No way!" That's too bad. He's only 8 but I still hope that he doesn't think of farming as a low-grade trade and instead wanted to avoid the ball-busting work which is farming. M. has lived in Madison all his life and I can understand his perspective. I grew up in Chicago and, until I moved to rural Wisconsin, didn't have the greatest respect for farm work either. I don't remember if I felt disrespect towards farmers as is often the wont of city folk but the concept of the farm was certainly foreign to me. It's difficult to understand and appreciate that life until you have some regular contact with it. It's a lot easier to sit in an office all day and head to the grocery store than it is to become a steward of the land and the animals on it.



Postlude:

I saw Sassy Cow Creamery milk for sale at Woodman's this morning. Prices on milk have dropped recently as even the organic stuff was under $6/gallon. I look forward to seeing their butter, ice cream, etc. on the shelves.