Getting my goat...feta
I'll get to Susan Miller's fantastic Bleugrass Chevre feta in a minute. First, some Market musing. This slow spectacular spring has had a rhythm to it -- rain on the weekends. Twice I have awakened at 5 AM on Saturday, happy about my own upcoming day -- sleep more, visit Lexington Farmers Market. Then I have a quick "duh" thought: All the farmers that make my Saturdays delightful and add still more delights to my table all week are already up and working in the rain, getting trucks loaded, traveling in to Lexington's Vine Street from Scott, Mercer, Madison, Harrison, Bourbon, Owen, and other counties.
I used to struggle to be at the market early on Saturdays, especially in black raspberry season, and especially because I wanted some pastured fresh eggs. Now I wander down around 9 AM and start with a heart-warming espresso from Sunrise Bakery. I get eggs directly from Elmwood Stock Farm now, so I don't have to worry I'll miss my chance because of my laziness. When black raspberries are in season, I go to Reed Valley Orchard and buy enough to freeze.
Recently, though, I have been reconsidering my Saturday morning laziness. Late last season Susan Miller began bringing homemade goat cheese to the Saturday Lexington Farmers Market, the first local goat cheese in the market, and the only Fayette County cheese sold there. I do not like goat cheese. But I may have to stop saying that, because I like Susan Miller's incredible goat cheese spreads, and especially her feta. So do many, many other people.
Last Saturday Susan had just sold the last cheese when I strolled up after 10 AM. The Saturday before, at 9:30 AM, I stood behind a disappointed young couple as Susan delivered the dread news that others had already bought all the cheese. "But you're the main reason we come to the Market!"
Susan Miller's goat cheeses definitely merit a trip to the Lexington Farmers Market. I add them to the long list of other foods for which I have the same respect and appreciation, enough to fill me with happy anticipation when I awaken early on a rainy Saturday. Now I am considering, at least a little, hopping out of my warm Saturday morning bed just a bit earlier in honor of Susan and her productive Nubians.