Why Cheddar Here Tastes Different

In his new book, Cheddar: A Journey to the Heart of America’s Most Iconic Cheese, California author Gordon Edgar argues that Wisconsinites take cheese for granted. With hundreds of cheese factories, thousands of dairy farms and daily proximity to fresh cheese curds, we are spoiled with an abundance of good cheese.

There’s no doubt he’s right. All one needs to do is listen to someone from Arizona complain about living in a “cheese desert” to make us better appreciate living in America’s Dairyland. Of Wisconsin’s 600 types, styles and varieties, no cheese better defines Wisconsin than cheddar. After all, of the 129 cheese factories in the state, almost half make cheddar. That’s 561 million pounds of just one type of cheese every single year.

Not only do Wisconsin cheesemakers produce a boatload of cheddar, they make it in a variety of ways. Some mass-produce florescent orange 640-pound blocks and sell it to storage houses, where it is cured in mammoth wooden boxes from floor to ceiling, and then cut and shrink-wrapped into eight-ounce bars and labeled for grocery store shelves as mild and medium cheddar.

Others, such as Land O’ Lakes in Kiel, make award-winning cheddar in 40-pound blocks and sell it to brokers and distributors, who contract the aging of the cheese. At the right time, the brokers and distributors sell it to grocery stores under a variety of private companies as sharp cheddar.

The folks at Hook’s Cheese in Mineral Point craft 40-pound blocks of both orange and white cheddar, age it in below-ground cold rooms for up to 20 years, and proudly sell it under their own name.

Willi Lehner at Bleu Mont Dairy in Blue Mounds crafts cheddar in 12-pound wheels and then bandages and lards each wheel before aging it a year in an underground cave.

In short, cheddar in Wisconsin comes in every size, shape and age imaginable. But the difference in the taste of those cheddars can be significant and is attributable not only to the forms used or aging techniques, but also to the region in which it was made. Ask any old-timer with cheddar still stuck in his teeth, and he’ll tell you how cheddar used to taste different from one factory to the next in just a 10-mile radius. Today, thanks to modern science and curious minds, distinct flavor differences are being recorded between cheddars made in western Wisconsin’s non-glaciated versus eastern Wisconsin’s glaciated regions.

In broad geographic terms, Wisconsin can be divided into two large regions: the non-glaciated Driftless Region to the southwest, with its abrupt hills, steep ridges and meandering rivers; and the glaciated region of open landscapes and flat, fertile farmland, which makes up the eastern part of the state. The soils in the Driftless Region are ancient, dominated by red clays and thousands of years of prairie grass roots that have decomposed into a thick rich mass, with soil type names such as Fayette and Dubuque. Dr. Jerry Tyler, emeritus professor of soil science at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, says that in the 1800s, the first European settlers likely had between 20 and 30 years of “free” nitrogen built into the soil, resulting in decades of above-average wheat farming before fertilizer was available. “It would have taken a pretty awful farmer to fail in those days,” says Tyler.

Compare this to the glaciated, eastern part of the state, which is dominated by flat plains, rolling hills, and a nearly 1,000-mile-long cliff called the Niagara Escarpment that begins south of Fond du Lac and ends at Niagara Falls. While the soils in the Driftless Region are millions of years old, the state’s eastern soils are only 12,000 years old and filled with till left behind by debris-rich glacier ice. These soils carry names such as Miami, Dodge and Casco, and the soil’s chemistry is vastly different from the red clays to the west. Different soil chemistry results in different grasses grown in each region. And different grass produces different milk. Because, after all, in time, grass becomes milk. The only thing standing in between is the cow.

Bert Paris is a dairy farmer near Belleville, in the Driftless Region of the state. His milk is made into both yogurt and cheese for PastureLand Cooperative, so he spends much time cultivating his pastures so his cows have the best grasses to eat. He is convinced that the quality of grass is directly tied to the quality of milk, and that the quality of grass comes from the quality of the soil, groundwater and climate.

“I plant primarily orchard and brome grass with some red and white clover,” Paris says. “We plant these because they are persistent and manageable in our area. My pastures are old enough that we have native forages and grasses mixed in to create a salad bar of sorts. Cows enjoy this mixture more than a monoculture of one or two grasses.”

Compare Paris’ pasture to the pastures at Saxon Homestead Farm, on the eastern part of the state near Cleveland, Wisconsin. Brothers Robert and Karl Klessig pasture their herd, and their milk is made into cheese for Saxon Creamery. Like Paris, they plant orchard and brome grass, but they also mix in perennial rye grass, timothy, reed canary, meadow fescue, and others.

“Our pastures consist of a very diverse mix of both cool season grasses—both wild and improved—as well as legumes,” Robert says. “Lake Michigan plays a role in our environment. The summertime cool, east winds and morning dew have an impact on the vegetation and cattle.”

Farmers say the different climates, soils and grasses from each region produce slightly different milk, which in turn, cheesemakers argue, creates slightly different cheese. For example, Cheesemaker Tony Hook, who has made cheese in western Wisconsin since 1970, has sourced milk from the same pasture-based farms for 40 years. Milk from grass-fed cows is all Tony has ever known.

“I’m a big believer that our sweet soils and limestone water make a difference in the pastures and the quality of the milk we get,” Hook says. In fact, Hook says his favorite months of the year to make cheese are May and June, when cows are put on fresh grass for the first time after a long winter, and then again in November, when cows are in the barn but eating the best hay made from dried grass and legumes of that year’s growing season.

Compare Hook’s experiences with Chris Gentine, owner of The Artisan Cheese Exchange in Sheboygan, who hand selects 40-pound blocks made at Land O’ Lakes in Kiel for his Double AA Grade Cheddar program sold under his Deer Creek label.

“I’ve always liked cheddars made in the Kiel region,” Gentine says. “The micro-climate of Lake Michigan combined with the pastures between Port Washington and Kewaunee are something special. The soil is more rocky versus the black earth of southwest Wisconsin. I’m convinced that if you made Deer Creek Cheddar in Green County, it would be a different piece of cheese.”

More science is needed to identify the specific flavor components of cheddar made in eastern versus western Wisconsin. But for now, consumers have the distinct pleasure of trying to discern the differences for themselves.

Challenge accepted.