While sifting through the crowds, I hear things, and I’ve amassed quite a collection of questions from tourists, some of which illustrate their perceptions of agriculture in Vermont:
“Is this goat cheese?”
It rarely is.
Why is this the default question? How does that thought process go - if someone sells cheese out in the open, then it surely must be from goats!
Because, everyone knows that cows’ milk cheeses come from the supermarket.
“So, what did you do before?”
Wow.
I blame media focusing on “alternative farming,” “back-to-the-landers,” and “second-lifers” bringing what-all and sundry new foodstuffs to consumers. All agri-businesses are now automatically lumped together in the collective conscious as ‘just trying it on’.
Because, of course, none of us could possibly have been born into an agricultural succession.
I admit, there’s certainly been growth in this sector, and plenty of entrepreneurs are capitalizing on the forward momentum that favors pick-your-own and sell-it-direct. Welcome!
However, for people who have put in half (or all) their born years into growing the marketplace that newsworthy newbies enjoy (and some accept credit for), that’s an insult.
It certainly was not a welcomed question where I was standing. My thoughts wandered to the bad place where tourists go missing.
On to Dawn’s Life, since I can always turn a subject around to being all about me – I was asked:
“Are you Swiss?”
Of course!
It logically follows that because I make cheese, I must hail from a country that knows REAL cheesemaking skills.
“No,” I responded, wondering what destination this bus would stop at, “We are French.” Truly, we are, but that’s not relevant…and me with the green eyes and red hair, so very clearly of Nordic descent.
“Is this cheese from Jasper Hill (Greensboro)?”
Only in their press releases.
Few cheesemakers sent/send their immature cheeses to age at that facility. We never did.
What do these tourists want from me?
Not raw meat and stinky cheese; neither travel well.
They do like to chat. Though, one brought rude to a new level – why bust me over where Normandy is located in France? (Our beef breed originated there.) We are talking about semen, people. Not critical if I can’t pin the tail on it.
Are they on a quest to discover some intangible Vermont ideal?
Do they desire to forge some connection to nature?
Are they drinking too deeply of the grass-green Kool-Aid, and believe that doing what I do - is as simple as quitting their job, relocating, and buying a fallow patch?
“Go West Young Man” – or is it, “Go to Vermont”?
That’s it!
Vermont is the place where people can re-invent themselves. All they need do is swap out Uggs for Muckboots. Then, they can deal with the tourists, too.
“Is that cheddar?”
Yah, because I live in Verde Mont, and all cheese is cheddar, eh? (Sigh)
