Hal̩ Sofia Schatz РHeart of Nourishment

For as long as I can remember, I have been fascinated with goats and have wanted to learn how to make goat cheeses. These last few years have allowed me to spend quite a bit time in the Taurus mountains on the Mediterranean during my teaching schedule there. I have been lucky to spend time with the nomadic villagers who are masters at making yogurt and cheeses as a daily/weekly nourishment practice. With all this practical inspiration regarding goats, I made a commitment and bought a goat share this year, which is the same as a CSA for milk. This has meant that I have been getting fresh, raw goat milk every week since the late spring from my local organic farm, Natick Community Organic Farm, and making my raw goat milk cheeses all summer. I have found that this new skill is engaging all my senses and providing me with an extremely nourishing and creative experience (all-be-it a very intensive process!). This has now become one of my most grounding and meditative practices.

Even though I have been making weekly goat milk yogurt for many years, this new adventure into artisanal cheese making has taken me deeper into the creative process. First of all there are many different kinds of cheeses depending on temperature, time, season, kind of milk, etc. As my first entry into this process, I wanted to keep it simple. Even with that initial guideline, I realized very quickly that are many variables that make what we call ‘cheese’ have its special taste and texture. After a few mishaps of the cheese not coagulating or my goats not having enough milk because of a virus, I quickly began to get the hang of it. The regular rhythms are very soothing. Stir the evening milk with starter and vegetable rennet and let sit overnight. First thing in the early morning, with the sun peeking through, ladle the formed curds into the molds. Let the whey continue to drain for 2 days in the warmth of the kitchen and/or the fresh summer air (covered with cheese cloth). At this point it can be refrigerated at 55-57 F for one day to one month.

The smell, taste, and texture of raw milk cheese has no equal to the pasteurized versions. I have been experimenting with many different kinds of additions to my raw cheeses. Here are some of my favorites: Chives + Garlic; Dulse; Wild Herbs; Garlic Scape; Purslane; Fennel Seed; Nigella Seeds; Ash; Fresh Feta; and of course Plain, aged 3 weeks at 55F with a gentle rind to contrast with the smooth inside.

The by-product of cheese making is the whey. The raw milk whey has a delicious sweet-sourness to it and this has provided the best nourishment and fertilizer for all my fruit trees. I have had the biggest and best figs and peaches this year. We will see how it affects the plums, apricots, kiwis and all the berries by next year.

For more inspiration and practical applications of cheese making in your kitchen, visit our resources page for cheesemaking.

As I sit soaking up the sun in my suburban Boston garden, there is still snow on the north side. It is almost April, and yet, it is still cold here in New England. I begin to imagine the spring days ahead when I can work the soil with my hands and plant my tiny seedlings into the deep, dark, rich earth. But I have to wait; it is not yet time. When I’m aware of seasonal rhythms, I can more easily align with the deeper wisdom that exists within. Winter always gives way to Spring. We can trust the seasons and their perfect sense of timing. But when we find ourselves in a transitional moment in our own lives, how do we trust? What do we trust?

Transitions are in-between times; they are periods of waiting. Most of us find it so uncomfortable to wait that we are usually ready to jump right into the next thing. Old job to new job. Old relationship to new relationship. My work consists of supporting and guiding people through this “trepidatious terrain,” as I like to call it. Whether a personal or professional change, I always urge people to take a pause. This pause can have tremendous power in your life because it gives you time for awareness and reflection. Where have you been and where are you going? What do you need to take with you, and what do you need to leave behind?

Transitions are subtle, and change rarely happens overnight. Instead, transitional moments are composed of layers that unravel as quietly and steadily as night merges into dawn. Instead of fearing or avoiding life’s powerful transitions, we can adopt an attitude of trust and surrender to a larger sense of time. We are not in control, but we can create the most supportive, fertile ground to nourish our ongoing change and growth.

When seeds are planted in rich fertile soil, they first make roots that steadily reach down into the earth. Roots must grow first because they provide the strength to hold up the plant as well as to absorb the nutrients to eventually grow the stem, sprouts, and green leaves.

How can we apply this profound wisdom to our own lives? Spring is approaching within us. How fertile is our soil? Which seeds have been sown? Where are our roots growing? Are we paying attention to our own inner rhythms and nourishing our growth so that we can burst forth in the new spring green?

When a seed is first planted, the root growth isn’t visible to the eye. The root is growing in the deep darkness of the soil. How do we know? Because eventually, once the root has taken hold, a green sprout will break through the soil.

Seeds offer us a metaphor for our own lives. Take advantage of this seasonal transition to till the soil of your life. Make it free of weeds and rocks. Fertilize it with extra nutrients and the compost of what no longer serves you. Nourish and water well, and support the tender growths until they are strong and steady. Have patience. In its own time, the spring sunshine will surely melt the winter snow and provide the necessary conditions for the new seedlings to grow into their full potential.

Spring 2006 —

Fall 2005/Winter 2006 — Climate and geography provide the foundation for the kinds of foods that can be grown in a particular area. In Freiburg, Germany, where my friend lives, cooler weather crops are in abundance now at the local markets: root vegetables, bitter greens and radishes. On Oahu and Maui and, where I have spent some time retreating, the juicy sweet fruits, leafy greens, bitter herbs, starchy roots, and plenty of fresh caught Pacific fish are all readily available at the local markets. Farmers in both Freiburg and the Hawaiian islands offer hardy market choices through all the seasons. In this way the land is nourished and protected, the farmers are sustained, and people are more connected to the process of feeding themselves with simplicity and grace.

No matter which climate you live in, pay attention to how many local foods you are consuming. Making an effort to simplify your choices, making seasonal adjustments and eliminating some of the foods that travel thousands of miles to your table will allow you to expand into a deeper awareness of who you are really feeding.

Fall 2005/Winter 2006 — Foods that are grown in the local climate where you live provide a powerful connection to how you nourish yourself. Whether you are in a cooler climate as in Freiburg, Germany or on a tropical island in Hawaii, locally grown foods are always the wisest choice.

Farmers markets on the islands of Maui and Oahu

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Farmers market in Freiburg, Germany

October 2005 — I have just returned from my travels in Istanbul and other parts of Turkey. Even with its hot climate, crowded conditions, and noisy markets, the abundance of local and regional food choices and the connectedness to the seasonal transitions support a deep inner balance.

My experience of the daily and seasonal rhythms in Turkey are always centered around the fresh foods and meals. The gracious and simple breakfasts with fresh goat and sheep cheeses, olives, yogurt, local fruits, and tea begin the day without the morning rush. The traditional glass of tea in the afternoon gently slows the pace of the day and allows one to reconnect with one’s inner rhythms. Visits to the local markets allow the shopper to choose the freshest and choicest vegetables, fruits, and fresh-caught fish of the day. Meals are prepared together and families slowly savor the tastes and the conversation well into the evening. I am struck by how everyone, everywhere, even the taxicab drivers with whom I often chatted, knew which foods were freshest in the market and exactly in which region of the country they were grown. This knowledge and connectedness with the local food is deeply rooted in Turkish culture and tradition. The reliance on the availability of seasonal local foods sustains a community connection to the harvesting process that, in turn, cultivates healthier food choices.

Here in New England, the autumn harvest is glorious in its beauty and richness of nature. But, autumn is also the transition time from the expansion of summer towards the retreating of winter. Just as the days get shorter and the nights longer, it is also a time of keeping the balance between the extensions in our lives and our inner awareness. The harvest season allows us enormous support for maintaining this connection and provides great stability. Foods found in farmers markets and grocery stores right now across the country are more local and fresh than at any other time of the year. These fresh local harvest foods allow us to gently transition from the heat of the summer towards the cooling months of autumn and winter. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually, these foods support and nourish us in the present and prepare us for the next season of our lives. This simple connection to our external environment provides greater support to balance our internal environment as well.

Following the inspiration from people in Istanbul, I encourage you to bring the freshest local and regional foods from this autumn harvest to your table. During this autumn transition, connect to farmers at your local market, ask questions about where your food comes from when you are in the grocery store, and choose wisely to nourish yourself. In this harvest season, give your yourself permission to slow down and invite yourself, your family and friends to a simple and fresh harvest meal prepared with joy and gratitude.

When we allow ourselves to connect to the seasons, we learn that balance is not in the extremes but, in the awareness of subtleties of the transition.

My garden is one of my greatest teachers. At this point in the summer, it is lush and overgrown from all the rain we’ve had these last months. No matter how much weeding I do, the garden continues to have its own life — filling in, spreading, climbing higher, taking its full space.

Like most gardeners, I purchased extra plants at the beginning of the season to fill in here and there as my mood for various annuals and perennials changes over the years. Because we had such an extremely cold winter in the Northeast, I had to replenish more than the usual amount of perennials. I dug most of them into their new locations, except for the few I never got to.

One of the plants I’ve taken real pleasure in this summer is Echinacea. As most of you know, this plant has very healing properties. I also love its papery purple and white flowers. I planted the Echinaceas in generous areas of the garden so they could grow and expand, except for one lone white Echinacea that never made it into the garden, and has stayed in its small pot on the patio.

The timing of how each species of plant goes into flower or fruit is always miraculous to me. Sipping tea in my garden one morning, the white Echinacea caught my attention. I noticed how stunted the plant looked in the pot: even though it flowered, the heads were small and the stems were thin. By contrast, the ones planted in the garden with plenty of space and fertile compost have thrived and are now abundant with flowers.

The white Echinacea reminded me of a question I have been paying attention to most of my life: How do we feed and give space to allow our greatest flowering potential? We can live in small, contained pots or transplant ourselves to a more spacious area where we can be nourished more deeply and flower more vibrantly.