Herkimer County Cheese

The standard method for making American Cheddar was established in Herkimer County, New York, in 1841 and has been rigidly maintained down to this day.  Made with rennet and a bacterial “starter,” the curd is cut and pressed to squeeze out all of the whey and then aged in cylindrical forms for a year or more.

Herkimer leads the whole breed by being flaky, brittle, sharp and nutty, with a crumb that will crumble, and a soft, mouth-watering pale orange color when it is properly aged.

Isigny

Isigny is a native American cheese that came a cropper.  It seems to be extinct now, and perhaps that is all to the good, for it never meant to be anything more than another Camembert, of which we have plenty of imitation.

Not long after the Civil War the attempt was made to perfect Isigny.  The curd was carefully prepared according to an original formula, washed and rubbed and set aside to come of age.  But when it did, alas, it was more like Limburger than Camembert, and since good domestic Limburger was then a dime a pound, obviously it wouldn’t pay off.  Yet in shape the newborn resembled Camembert, although it was much larger.  So they cut it down and named it after the delicate French Creme d’lsigny.

Jack, California Jack and Monterey Jack

Jack was first known as Monterey cheese from the California county where it originated.  Then it was called Jack for short, and only now takes its full name after sixty years of popularity on the West Coast.  Because it is little known in the East and has to be shipped so far, it commands the top Cheddar price.

Monterey Jack is a stirred curd Cheddar without any annatto coloring.  It is sweeter than most and milder when young, but it gets sharper with age and more expensive because of storage costs.

Liederkranz

No native American cheese has been so widely ballyhooed, and so deservedly, as Liederkranz, which translates “Wreath of Song.”

Back in the gay, inventive nineties, Emil Frey, a young delicatessen keeper in New York, tried to please some bereft customers by making an imitation of Bismarck Schlosskaese.  This was imperative because the imported German cheese didn’t stand up during the long sea trip and Emil’s customers, mostly members of the famous Liederkranz singing society, didn’t feel like singing without it.  But Emil’s attempts at imitation only added indigestion to their dejection, until one day—­fabelhaft! One of those cheese dream castles in Spain came true.  He turned out a tawny, altogether golden, tangy and mellow little marvel that actually was an improvement on Bismarck’s old Schlosskaese.  Better than Brick, it was a deodorized Limburger, both a man’s cheese and one that cheese-conscious women adored.