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Once upon a time I was a vegan. I had already been a vegetarian for a few years — yes, we will discuss the fact that butchery learning, meat eating, FOIE GIRL was a vegetarian at a later date — and that had been a fairly successful transition. I didn’t really miss meat, although every so often the passing scent of bacon or souvlaki would make my knees quiver. And since I was a vegetarian of the ethical and political bent, going full on vegan seemed to be the next natural step. I lasted 13 days. They were long days filled with longing. For cold fresh milk, cream in my coffee, tangy salted butter on my bread. And most of all cheese. I woke up in the night clutching the covers as if they were the bloomy rind of the wheel of brie I had been dreaming about. I caught random whiffs of phantom pieces of pungent Bleu d’Auvergne or funky Fourme d’Ambert. I coveted the Kraft singles from children’s sandwiches.
Ricotta was my breaking point, my gateway cheese as it were. Which is odd for 2 reasons. One, ricotta is technically not a cheese, but instead a latticino—which means a dairy by-product. True ricotta is made from whey—that is, the watery liquid that remains after the proper cow, sheep or goat cheese is made. And two, because I had never been particularly interested or intrigued by ricotta. A tub of it was often in our fridge growing up, at the ready to layer with lasagna noodles or stuff into shells. But that’s how I saw it — as a white stuffing sort of material, certainly not something to crave or eat on it’s own. Yuck.
But as luck would have it, the very day that I had decided give up veganism and embrace the fromage, I was invited to brunch at a friend’s. I frantically scanned the rustic farm table, groaning with food, in search of the cheese. And the only choice was a bowl of ricotta, drizzled in heathery honey, with crushed almonds scattered across the top.
Not. What. I. Had. In. Mind.
But as I was committed to breaking my dairy fest that morn, I scooped some up and onto my plate. And it was a revelation. Sweet and tangy and creamy and tart. Real ricotta, as it turns out, was nothing like the supermarket tub of my youth. I now almost always have a pot of proper ricotta at the ready. But sometimes I make my own. True confession: this is not truly ricotta. Because I am not making a wheel of Parmesan or pecorino — although how awesome would that be — i don’t have any whey laying about to be used. But with just three ingredients — Milk, cream, lemon juice — and about half hour of your time — you can make a homemade approximation that is far and away better than most of what you will find in a tub in the supermarket dairy case.
Pour 4 cups whole milk (not skim, not 2%, not non-fat. Thank you.), 1 cup cream, 1 teaspoon kosher salt, and 2 tablespoons of fresh squeezed lemon juice in a saucepan. Don’t stir, and bring just to a boil. When it starts to bubble, immediately remove pan from heat.
Let the mixture stand for about 15 minutes at room temperature. Over the course of 15 minutes, the curds will begin to separate from the whey. If the curds seem to be too scanty and you still see a lot of un-separated milk, it may be that your lemon may not be acidic enough. Add another tablespoon lemon juice and very gently stir it in, so you don’t break up the curds too much, and let stand for another 5 minutes.
Using a large spoon or ladle, scoop the curds into a cheesecloth-lined strainer or sieve set over a large bowl. Let drain for about 40 minutes — the longer you drain the ricotta, the more dense and flavorful the cheese will be. If it becomes too dry, you can add back in some of the whey.
To make ricotta salata, wrap your finished ricotta in cheesecloth and place in the fridge overnight, pressed between two weighted plates.
