Lucky Layla

One day as I was driving from here to there–or possibly there to here–I noticed a sign. This sign, as a matter of fact:

It was a sign, I tell you!

Now, I do live in Texas, and it is cattle country, but this was hardly the country. Just down from a thriving college, not far off a major highway, smack-dab in the middle of houses and shops and things in Plano, Texas…a dairy? Whassup with that?

The sign said “Visitors Welcome” so the next day I returned with Vikki and Rosemary in tow. (Bless her, all I told Rosemary was “We’re meeting at Vikki’s house. Bring money. And maybe a cooler.” Adventurous companions are priceless.)

So we met, we set off, and after a grueling trip of . . . oh, five minutes . . . we were at the farm. The farm store was tiny but well stocked with dairy goodness. Well, except for the raw milk. They’d run out several hours earlier; while it wasn’t on any of our grocery lists, there was a steady stream of visitors asking for it.

Small but mighty, at least in products.

We perused the cheese selections, the “drinkable yogurt” (the idea of that texture makes me vaguely ill but Rosemary bought some and she likes it), the dulce de leche caramel, the butter . . . and after much discussion, made our selections.

(Note: Most things we do require ‘much discussion’ but that’s really irrelevant. So never mind.)

Our haul du jour.

Note the pretty multi-colored cheese; it’s their ‘Tex-Mex’ cheese and it is quite yummy. Akin to mozzarella, but with just a bit of heat, it’s chewy and delicious wrapped in a tortilla, melted on flatbread, or just sliced and eaten as is. Preferably with a few slices of summer sausage, some baby gherkins, a couple of whole grain crackers, and a nice glass of Malbec, but that part is up to you.
The white cheddar was also delightful and the butter, too. (Ever so much better than that corn stuff I made. When it comes to butter, cows beat corn every time.)

I was mightily amused at the invitation on their Web site to “see championship cows at work!” Since I lived just across the fence from a herd of cows in my day, I happen to know their “work” mostly consists of chewing, pooping, and getting milked (which is really more work for the dairyperson than the cow). But the nice man minding the store did ferry us down to the barn to peek in the window at a cow hard at, um, work.

Working hard. Or something.

It was much too hot for more of a tour, so we had to pass on seeing the cows out standing in their field. The dairy is certainly outstanding in their field, though (sorry, couldn’t resist) and I’ll definitely be back for more cheesy goodness. Maybe next time I’ll try the caramel…or the ‘yogurt cheese’ that’s supposed to be cream cheese-ish.

Those of you from foreign parts (like Louisiana or Oregon) may be a little sad at the sight of all this dairy deliciousness over here in the Lone Star State—but fear not. Their products are available at Whole Foods, so if your area is hip enough to have one of those purveyors of fine foods, you’re set. Otherwise, you’ll just have to come to Plano so you, too, can celebrate cheese.

P.S. I neglected to ask who Layla is and what makes her so lucky. If you happen to stop by the store, could you find out for me? If not, no worries. I’ll ask next time. And there will be a next time.

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