Q: What do you call a goat that’s sitting around doing nothing?

A: Billy Idol.

I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. I fell down a rabbit hole of goat memes on the internet the other day and bad goat jokes were rife. Believe it or not, the Billy Idol example was one of the better ones.

Goats have been on my mind because today’s Three Ways With… column is all about using goat meat, milk and cheese. The latter has become much more common in New Zealand in recent years -there were loads of great goats’ cheese entries in the recent Outstanding Food Producer Awards, for example – but the former two are only just on the cusp of being mainstream. It’s a pity, because they’re delicious – and they tick all the boxes in terms of careful production and quality.

I was inspired to make my own cajeta (pictured above) after tasting Hamilton company Cilantro‘s version. Making your own is fun, not difficult and yields a generous amount that will disappear quickly. It’s the closest thing I’ve tasted to manjar, the highly addictive Chilean dulce de leche. One spoonful and you’ll never be satisfied with salted caramel again.

If you’re too pure to sully your palate with such decadence, but want to have a play with goats’ milk in the kitchen, I strongly recommend DIY goats’ curd. I make it quite often (short-dated goats’ milk is often on special at my local food emporium) and it’s the sort of kitchen magic trick everyone should know how to perform.

DIY Goats’ Curd
This is about as simple as cooking gets – milk + heat + coagulant + time = soft, creamy goats’ cheese. Smoosh a bit on some toasted baguette, drizzle over some extra virgin olive oil and bliss will be yours.

500ml (2 cups) goats’ milk
3 Tbsp freshly squeezed lemon juice
a pinch of salt

Heat the goats’ milk until simmering point. Remove from the heat and stir in the lemon juice. Let sit for 10-15 minutes, until curds have begun to form. While you’re waiting, line a sieve with muslin (I use a very fine cotton table napkin) and set it over a large bowl.
Carefully pour the curds/milk into the sieve. Leave to drain for at least 20 minutes, pressing it gently to squeeze out the whey. If you’re not in a hurry, you can put the sieve/bowl arrangement in the fridge and let it drain for a couple of hours.
When you’re ready, scrape the curds into a small bowl. Use immediately or cover and store in the fridge.

Are you a fan of goats’ produce? Or do you have a good goat joke to share? Let me know!

Smile, it’s National Cheese Month! I know these things (National Donut Day, anyone?) are spurious at best, but if the New Zealand Specialist Cheesemakers Association wants us to dedicate October to the noble activity of eating cheese, I’m not about to argue.

Instead, I humbly offer you five of my favourite cheesy recipes…

 Secret cheese and onion bread – soft, white, pillowy dough, with a molten cheese middle. Blissful.

Roasted cauliflower cheese – exactly what it says, but with spices (and optional potatoes, or greens, or both).

Jenny’s cheesy potatoes – an absolute Corry family classic (no one can make them like Jenny can, but with practice, you can nearly reach cheese and potato nirvana).

Bermuda salad – a Moosewood Cookbook number, in which cheese plays an important but not overpowering role. I was dubious too, but it’s very good.

Sara Lee cheesecake – looks just like a bought one, tastes a million times better (and is about as easy to make as pulling one out of a packet).

What’s your favourite thing to do with cheese?

Like a lot of food bloggers, I get asked to spruik a lot of stuff. Mostly, I don’t do it, not least because I often have no interest in the products they’re flogging. I’d also like to think I have more respect for my readers than expect them to read posts that say ‘look, here’s something I got for free and you didn’t’.

But every now and then I find something that I think really DOES warrant being written about. Here are a few of these things that have crossed my path recently.

I’m ashamed to admit it, because in theory I have a herb garden at my disposal, but this new range of lightly dried herbs from Australian company Gourmet Garden is really, really good.
If fresh herbs go to your fridge to die, half-used (or, like me, you can’t be bothered trekking to the bottom of your garden in the dark to pick your own), then these will be a god-send. Like the name suggests, they’re very lightly dried, so they last up to a month once opened but they’re still ‘live’ enough to taste fresh and perky. There are three herbs – basil, parsley and coriander, plus ginger and chilli. I’d love it if they did hard-to-find herbs like tarragon and dill too, but maybe I should just hurry up and grow my own.

According to conventional wisdom, eating ginger biscuits is a guaranteed remedy for morning sickness. In my limited experience, this is an outright lie. All it did for me was a) get crumbs in the bed and b) make me feel sick whenever I saw a packet of ginger biscuits. It’s taken me a long time to get over that Pavlovian response, but I’ve finally cracked it. Just in time, too, for the arrival of Nairn’s Stem Ginger Oat Biscuits in New Zealand. These are seriously good, with little nuggets of proper stem ginger inside, and a crunchy texture. They’re also not too sweet, and good with cheese. Speaking of which…

…this isn’t new, but our amazing neighbours brought it over last weekend. It’s Ngawi Brie, made over the hill in the Wairarapa by Miles and Janet King of Kingsmeade Cheese. I interviewed the Kings a few years ago and I’ve made a conscious effort to support them by buying their cheese ever since (such a sacrifice).

Last of all, I’ve made a surprising discovery at the other end of the scale. It’s this – Pam’s Cocoa.

Believe it or not, this is the best supermarket cocoa you can buy. It knocks spots off the Cadbury Bournville stuff, which is like light brown dust in comparison. True, it’s not Valrhona, but it’s also much more wallet-friendly. And that always leaves a good taste in my mouth!

What new discoveries have you made this month?

Do you remember mousetraps from when you were a kid? I couldn’t wait to make them when the Small Girl was smaller, mainly so I could eat them myself. There’s something about salty, savoury Marmite that goes so well with slightly scorched bread and cheese. But I’ve found something that goes even better – a mega-umami hit of miso. I know it sounds unlikely, but one bite and you’ll be hooked. The only thing that makes it better is a squeeze of fresh lemon juice on top. Trust me, it’s a winner.

Miso And Lemon Mousetraps Photo And Recipe Credit: Lucy Corry/The Kitchenmaid

Miso and lemon mousetraps
The beauty of these mouth-watering morsels is that you can make a whole trayful to serve with drinks when  you are unexpectedly pressed into hostess service, or you can make a whole trayful and call it dinner on those nights when all you want to do is collapse on the sofa. You can use any kind of bread you like – baguette, a coarse-textured country loaf or even a cheeky gluten-free number, but nothing too wholegrain-y. Keep the slices about 1/2 a cm thick for best results and only toast one side so you get the soft/crunchy texture thing happening. I’ve kept quantities vague, but keep to the suggested ratio of miso to butter. Don’t forget the lemon, either. Any leftover miso-butter mixture can be kept in a covered container in the fridge.

sliced bread, as above
1/2 cup white miso
1/4 cup unsalted butter, softened
50-100g tasty cheddar cheese, finely grated
1 juicy lemon

Preheat the grill and line a baking tray with foil or baking paper. Lie the slices of bread on top, then put under the grill until golden. Don’t do what I do and wander off, unless you have an unlimited supply of bread to replace the charcoal that those forgotten slices will become. Take the tray out of the oven and turn the slices over, so the toasted side is facing down.
Put the miso and butter in a small bowl and mix until well combined. Generously spread the non-toasted side of the bread with this mixture, then scatter some grated cheese on top. Return the tray to the grill and toast until the cheese is crispy and the edges of the bread are darkening.
Let cool briefly before serving with a squeeze of lemon on top.  These are best eaten the day they are made.

I am a terrible snob. I’m not proud of this shortcoming but since there’s no point in denying it so I may as well be bold. I know I am a terrible snob because I once told someone that his mother made white trash coleslaw. In my defence, he said (and did) much, much worse to me. And that coleslaw was disgusting – tinned pineapple, cabbage, carrot and condensed milk dressing – so I don’t think I was completely out of line. Plus, his mother used to look at me like I was something she’d trodden on. Harrumph.

Anyway, that’s all ancient history and I’m over it, truly. But earlier this evening, when rustling up an impromptu salad to go with the remainder of Monday night’s roast chicken, I realised I was essentially making coleslaw too. Not posh coleslaw, not even an exotic Asian-ish one. Is there such a thing as a middle class coleslaw? I think I’ve just made it. But in good news, this is a coleslaw that transcends all barriers. Young, old, rich, poor, we can all eat and enjoy with impunity. But if you even think of putting tinned pineapple in it you deserve to choke on each mouthful.

So good to eat, so hard to make look good to eat!

Middle class coleslaw
This is the sort of thing you whip up in 10 minutes while wearing your running kit and making increasingly firm requests to your daughter to get out of the bath so you can get into it. Quantities are approximate – this much makes enough for four. Any leftovers are good in a lunchbox the next day.

1/4 of a cabbage – Savoy if you’re posh, ordinary if not, shredded
2 carrots, peeled, then grated
2 ribs of celery, destringed, then finely chopped
100g tasty cheddar, grated
1 tsp caraway seeds (optional)

For the dressing:
1 clove garlic, mashed to a paste with a pinch of salt
2 tsp Dijon mustard
a good pinch of sugar
4 Tbsp apple cider vinegar
8 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil

Make the dressing first. Put the smashed garlic, mustard, sugar and vinegar in a screw top jar. Screw on the lid and shake well. Add the oil, reattach the lid and shake again until emulsified. Taste – add a little more oil or vinegar to suit. It should be slightly on the sharp side to balance out the cheese.
Put the cabbage, carrot, celery and cheese in a salad bowl and toss together to mix. Sprinkle over the caraway seeds, if using, then pour over two-thirds of the dressing. Toss well, adding more dressing if necessary. Serve immediately or cover and refrigerate until needed.

Are you a food snob? Does it get you into trouble?