Saucer Dairy

Blog

  • A Day In The Life Of Wren, Barn Cat

    Wren wakes at dawn, stretches in the straw, and begins her rounds. First she checks the grain shed for mice. Then she checks the hay loft for the mice who got away. Finally she checks the cow barn, where the day shift is just beginning, and she gives each cow a long and thoughtful nod.

    At noon she eats a sardine and sits on the fence post watching the lane. At two she supervises the churn. At four she naps in the warm spot above the milking stall, which she believes she invented.

    Wren is eleven. She has never been wrong about the weather. She says it will rain on Thursday, and we are bringing in the washing.

  • Equinox Cream: Rich As The Evening

    When day and night are equal, the cows give a cream that is unlike any other time of year. Perhaps it is the grass, brown at the edges and sweet at the root. Perhaps it is the slant of the light. Perhaps it is just the cows feeling a little wistful about the end of summer.

    This week we are pouring Equinox Cream, a limited run of 120 saucers, thick as velvet and pale as an old candle. Notes of hay, warm bread, and quiet.

    Each saucer will come with a card in Ottoline’s own hand, telling you which cow it came from. Today it is Mabel. She is feeling large and fulfilled.

  • The Kefir Culture Club

    Down in the back of the cold room we keep a crock of kefir grains, small pale things that look like cauliflower and behave like a tiny village. We call them the Culture Club. They eat the milk, and they sing a bubbling little song, and we pour off the tangy result into saucers.

    Kefir is an old way of keeping milk, and cats who try it often go quiet and thoughtful, as though they have remembered something. It is gentle on the tummy, and slightly sour, like a very nice memory.

    The grains were given to us by a neighbor named Mr. Pelham, who inherited them from his aunt. We feed them daily. We treat them as members of the family, because they are.

  • Harvest Supper At The Long Table

    On the second Saturday of September, we set a long wooden table in the apple orchard and invite everyone to supper. The cats sit on the benches and the humans sit on the grass, and nobody minds.

    This year’s menu includes pumpkin soup with a swirl of cream, potatoes baked in the ashes, a goat cheese tart, and a pie so large that Dumpling the pony needed to carry it. For cats, there are tiny silver bowls of warm milk, and a roast chicken wing each.

    Tickets are 12 dollars for adults and free for cats under two years. Music will be provided by a fiddler named Lorne and a very uncertain goose.

  • Why We Do Not Sell Oat Milk

    A customer asked recently if we might carry oat milk, and Ottoline gave a long, sad look out of the window. We do not carry oat milk. We have nothing against oats. Oats are a fine and honest grain. But a saucer of oat milk is an unconvincing thing, and a cat knows it.

    Pudding, when consulted, walked slowly to the pantry, pulled down a box of oats, and sat on it. Then he looked at us. We understood.

    We do however sell a cereal flavored cream, made with a few drops of vanilla and a tablespoon of toasted oats, for those who want a hint of the field. It is rather lovely and Pudding allows it.

  • A Letter From Mabel The Cow, Translated

    Mabel gave us a letter, and Wren translated it from the Moo. It reads, in part: ‘Dear Dairy, the grass is long today and my heart is full. I would like to report that the new fence post is warm and good for scratching. I would like to report that the dog is nonsense. I would like to report that I am a cow and that is all.’

    She goes on to complain about the flies and ask if there might be more apples. She ends with ‘Kind regards, Mabel, who is large.’

    We have framed the letter and hung it in the shop. Visitors tend to stand in front of it for a while, nodding.

  • Cheese Cave Notes

    Behind the cold room, down seven stone steps, there is a small cave where our cheeses sleep. The walls drip. The air is cool and a little earthy, and in the dim light you can hear the wheels settling, like a congregation at rest.

    We keep forty wheels there at present. The oldest is a wheel of hard goat cheese named Reginald, aged fourteen months and growing dignified. Each wheel is turned by hand every second day, and rubbed with a cloth dipped in brine. A cheese, Ottoline says, likes to be remembered.

    We will open Reginald in November, with a small ceremony. Bring a hat. Bring a saucer.

  • County Fair Results: Second Place In Cream, Reasons Disputed

    We took our Double Cream Dollop to the Marrow County Fair and came home with a second place ribbon. Naturally we are delighted. We are also looking into the judging.

    The winner was a thick, pale cream made by a woman named Mrs. Albright, and while it was very good, our judge, a man in a straw hat, was seen eating a sandwich during the tasting. Wren believes he was bribed with the sandwich. Pudding believes he was simply hungry.

    The ribbon is blue and gold, and it hangs in the cold room next to a photograph of Bernadette looking proud. We will win next year. We have already begun the rehearsals.

  • On Warm Milk And Bedtime

    There is a quiet hour at the end of the day when the house settles, the clock ticks slower, and a little warm milk makes everything right. We believe in this hour. We have built a whole dairy around it.

    The best bedtime milk is warmed gently, just until it steams, never boiled. Pour it into a wide saucer with a thin blue rim and set it on the kitchen floor beside the radiator. Then sit, and say nothing, and listen to a cat lap.

    It is a small, steady sound, like rain in a far off garden. It is, I think, the sound of all being well. It is the best thing we sell, and we cannot bottle it.

  • The Goats Join The Family

    Six goats came to the dairy this spring, and the cows have not entirely forgiven us. The goats are small, quick and constantly asking questions. They climb on the shed roof. They eat the laundry. One of them, a white doe named Cardamom, has learned to open the feed bin latch and gives lectures on it.

    But their milk is lovely, light and a little tangy, and many of our cats, especially the older ones, like it better than the cow’s. We are pouring the first goat whey this week, in a limited number of saucers.

    If you visit, say hello to Cardamom. She will say hello back. She will also check your pockets.