The Big Cheese: A (Not very) Serious Guide to Home Cheesemaking.

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Gather round, gather round people for today we’re diving into the dairy arts, the fromage fantasia, the curdled cabaret of cheesemaking! Yes, that’s right, your favourite blogger superstar is about to turn your humble kitchen into a lacto-palatial wonderland!

Now, I know what you’re thinking: “ But Jim, cheese is for the French, the Swiss, and that suspicious man at the farmer’s market who smells like a goat and quotes Nietzsche.” But no, people! Cheese is for everyone even you, Sharon from Dundee, with your tragic little fridge full of expired hummus and broken dreams.

So let’s begin with the basics, shall we? First, you need milk. Not almond milk, not oat milk, not that ghastly coconut nonsense real milk, from a cow, a goat, or if you’re feeling frisky, a yak. I once milked a yak in Tibet,. It was a spiritual experience. The yak was very moved. I was wearing nothing.

Next, we heat the milk. Not too hot, we’re making cheese, not boiling your ex-husband’s lies. Then we add rennet. Rennet,, is an enzyme that curdles the milk. Much like I curdle the blood of my neighbours at 4am with my oboe playing.

Now comes the curds and whey. Curds are the chunky bits, whey is the watery stuff. You separate them, like my wife separated me from my mates within a month of our marriage. Press the curds into a mould preferably heart shaped, or shaped like my face if you’re feeling ambitious and let it age. Not like your Aunt Marge who’s been ageing in a recliner since 1983. I mean ripen, Mature. Develop character. Like me!

And voilà! You’ve made cheese! You’re a dairy diva! A curd queen! A lactose legend!

So go forth, my little cheesemakers. Be bold. Be brie-lliant. And remember: life is like a wheel of Camembert—soft, pungent, and best enjoyed with a glass of bubbly and a touch of scandal.




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