Cheese it, the Brexiteers!

I’m a cheese lover, but not a particularly sophisticated one. My favorite cheese is cheddar which, I guess is a taste upgrade from Velveeta, the cheese of my childhood.

Anyway, cheddar is what you’re most likely to find in my fridge at any given time. Second most likely: mozzarella. (As I right this, both are there. As is a partially used tub of Philadelphia cream cheese with chive and onion.)

Oh, I like plenty of other cheeses just fine, and am always delighted when someone’s got a big old spread of fun and interesting cheeses on offer. It’s just that most of what I buy for myself if cheddar.

Cheddar just works. It works in a toasted cheese sandwich. In an omelet. On a cracker.

Most of what I buy is Cabot’s Vermont Sharp.

Works for me.

Since I’m buying locally – Vermont, after all, borders on Massachusetts, and I am, after all, something of a Vermonter by marriage – I wasn’t conscious of the fact that, when it comes to cheddar, Ireland is something of a big cheese, producing 180,000 tons each year (90% of its overall cheese production). Much of that cheddar ends up in Britain which, with the U.S., is one of the only countries where cheddar is popular.

The reliance on the British market may, thanks to Brexit, prove problematic.

If Britain leaves the EU’s single market and customs union, as it intends to, Irish exporters can expect to face regulatory hurdles and perhaps tariffs. Conor Mulvihill of Dairy Industry Ireland, a lobby group, estimates that these barriers could add as much as €0.21 to the cost of cheddar made with each litre of milk; its farm-gate price is only about €0.30. In that worst-case scenario, “there wouldn’t be a gram of Irish cheddar exported,” he says. (Source: The Economist)

Yep, I’d say that nary a gram of exported Irish cheddar would be the worst case scenario. But it’s also, I suspect, unlikely.

Nevertheless, Irish cheesemakers, while hoping for the best, are expecting the worst. They’re making Jarlsberg. And mozzarella. Looking at whether to start making Edam and Gouda.

As anyone who’s been to Ireland knows, there are a lot of cows there. And there’s only so much milk, butter, and ice cream to be consumed. And so, cheese. Glad the output of all those contented cows will continue to find homes.

There are a couple of problems.

All those Irish cows:

…produce far more milk in summer than winter. Cheddar, which can be left to mature for years, allows cheesemakers to smooth their output throughout the year. Switching to softer cheeses could mean summer gluts and winter scarcity.

Then there’s the slight problem that Irish mozzarella – thanks to all that lovely Irish grass that gives Kerry Gold Butter its lovely yellow hue – Irish mozzarella ends up yellow-tinged. Which is too bad, given that we all want mozzarella to be white. (Speaking of white, while my cheddar may be labeled white, it isn’t. It’s off-white, pale yellow. And when someone tries to give me orange cheese, as happens with cheddar and American, I cringe. And, at the Roche Brothers deli counter, refuse. Orange cheese, while it tastes the same, is the color of Kraft Mac ‘n Cheese. Of Velveeta. Just say ‘no’ to orange-colored cheddar.)

This news on what Brexit will do to Irish cheesemakers is interesting enough on its own. (All part of a bigger picture on the damage that Brexit, if it actually happens, could do to Ireland, especially given the implications of what it might mean for the wonderfully open border between Northern Ireland and the Republic.) But what really caught my eye in this Economist article was the photo that illustrated it.

Nothing to do with Irish cows. Just with Irish cheese.

I give you County Cork’s Johnny Lynch, who makes mozzarella that comes not from Irish cows, but from Irish water buffalo.

No word on whether Irish grass-fed water buffalo have the same yellow cheese issues as their cow cousins.

All I can say is, ride ‘em, cheeseboy!