Chalet Cheese Company
The last Limburger-producing cheese factory in the United
States, the Chalet Cheese Co-op, is a quaint, Alpine-looking building that lies
on a rise of a dipping country road outside Monroe. This is the heart of Swiss
cheese country, where in the 1920s area factories produced millions of pounds of
limburger a year; indeed, according to author Jerry Apps in Cheese: The Making
of a Wisconsin Tradition (Amherst Press, 1997), they once produced more
Limburger than Swiss
Huh? Limburger was once more popular than Swiss? How did
we get from there to just one little Limburger factory?
Limburger, like
liver and lutefisk, is a food people either love or love to hate. Stories that
surround the famously stinky cheese are legend: about the grocer who repeatedly
sent back smelly shipments, thinking the cheese had spoiled; about a "Limburger
Rebellion" in Green County, when residents threatened to stage a Boston Tea
Party over a cheese caravan parked in the sun; and about the Iowa mail carrier
who claimed he got sick from the odor of a package he was to deliver, sparking
an interstate debate over the worthiness of Limburger (it ended in a "sniffing
duel" that left Limburger victorious on all counts).
Limburger originated
in Belgium but is usually associated with the Germans and Swiss, who layer the
aged, surface-ripenedcheese with dark bread, onions, and horseradish or mustard
in a hearty sandwich. A Swiss immigrant named Rudolph Benkert cured the first
Green County Limburger in his home cellar in 1867. The following year Nicholas
Gerber, another Swiss immigrant, established the first Limburger factory in the
area. Taverns all over the county were soon serving the potent cheese with
locally-brewed beer, a combination patrons relished so much that when saloons
closed during Prohibition, Limburger sales went into decline.
These
days, it isn't a lack of beer that holds Limburger production back, it's
changing tastes. Most people prefer the mild cheeses that are more typical of
today's streamlined cheese production. But even though we are down to one
Limburger factory there are still enough Limburger lovers to consume close to
one million pounds a year, the amount the Chalet Cheese produces
annually.
And the cooperative is still making Limburger the old-fashioned, labor-intensive
way. "Each piece of cheese is handled 12 times before it leaves the factory," says Myron Olson, a big, round-faced man with a
respect for Limburger that shows in the bright gaze of his eyes. He is manager
of the cooperative, following in the footsteps of the renowned Albert Deppeler,
who made Limburger and managed the factory for decades before him. The
Limburger-making process Myron describes sounds much like other cheeses, at
least in the first stages: special cultures and rennet are added to whole milk,
which when thickened is cut with wire knives, stirred and heated to release the
liquid whey, pumped into forms, and drained to release more whey.
But
then things begin to look different: the cheese is cut into pieces, rolled in
salt, and returned to the frames for a brief dry-brining. Soon the individual
pieces, which are the size and shape of small bricks, are laid side by side on
knot-free pine boards that have been cured specially for this purpose. "You want
the bacteria to grow on the boards," says Myron. "This inoculates the cheese and
protects it from other bacteria that could grow." 
Placed in a cool,
ultra-moist cellar, the bricks are wetted daily and brushed with a bacteria-
infused solution (called the "smear") twice during their seven-day stay.
Eventually the cheese is weighed out and hand-wrapped in parchment and waxed
paper. Country Castle, the Chalet Cheese label, goes on about 20% of the
Limburger; the rest is sold wholesale under other labels.
Olson
emphasizes the importance of the wooden boards by describing what happened in
1947 when the cooperative, in a joint venture with Kraft Foods, built the
current plant and installed new equipment, boards and all. "They wanted to
become the most modern, the best Limburger factory in the world," says Myron.
"But what happened was they got green cheese---it failed. They had to get out
the old boards. And these have been used ever since." Since Chalet Cheese is the
source for all domestic Limburger sold in the nation, consumers shouldn't find
variations from label to label. Except, that is, for the variations that should
occur through aging.
"The key to enjoying Limburger is knowing the date
it was made," notes Myron. "When it is real young, up to one month old, it is
very firm, crumbly, and salty, much like feta cheese in taste. At six weeks,
it's soft on the corners but still has a hard core that's salty and chalky. The
bacteria works from rind to center. At two months, the core is almost gone." He
says most people prefer Limburger between six weeks and eight weeks old. "From
two to three months, the core is gone, it's soft and spreadable, the salt has
blended in, and the cheese has a kind of sweet flavor. Older than three months,
there's intense smell, intense flavor. It's pungent and almost bitter. If you
like it, you're a real Limburger lover."
If you like it, you may be an
old-timer who has enjoyed Limburger all your life, or you may be one of a new
breed of gourmet diners that Myron calls "adventure eaters." Either way, you're
one of the relatively few consumers today who are helping a strong cheese
survive.
Cheese from Chalet
|
Limburger 8oz |
Limburger 12oz |
Baby Swiss |
Aged Swiss |
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Brick Smoked |
Brick German |
Swiss Smoked |
2 Year Swiss |
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