Dear Nan nan,

How have you been? I know it has been forever since I last wrote, and a girl should not go on too long in life without writing to her grandmother – especially when they live on different coasts! I miss you so much. It is hard to believe how much time has passed. Remember when I first got to town and was working for the bagel shop? I ate there two meals a day, that is dos Los Bagels! For a long time after, I thought I would never enjoy a bagel again.

Well, it has been about three years since making the dough for Bagels, I am, once again, enjoying Bagels on an almost weekly basis! Feels good to finally come full circle (or bagel.) Jalapeño is still my favorite variety, but sometimes a slug hits the spot, too. My friends from Colorado reported that they had a rosemary Parmesan bagel– a noteworthy type dough!

I am also carrying Los Bagels cream cheese spreads at the grocery store where I work. Every flavor is whipped to perfection and offered in an eight ounce tub: plain, pesto, sunny tomato, wild herb and salmon. I can’t say I have a favorite; they are all good. The sun-dried tomato spread is set off nicely with garlic and the wild herb has a hit of horseradish for excitement. The joy is spreading!

Now I usually take a quick trip to the salad bar to round out my breakfast with a topping of spinach, sprouts and sometimes a cucumber or onion. And if I have my way, slug slime and LARRUPIN finish it off.

Fuel gets me thinking. I’ve been working on an old legend from around here and thought I would share it with you. So, without further adieu, I present to you:

The Myth of the Jalapeno Slug
(WARNING: bagel and bread puns ahead!)

The Jalapeno Slug is a mythical creature residing in the Bagel Factory. Bageleros are always chattering about how delicious it would be… If such a creation existed. Yesterday, to my surprise, someone told me that they ATE one! Imagine that: EATING a Jalapeno Slug!?! Seems like an awful close encounter with something that is only said to be real. (How do you know when a pepper is mad at you? He gets jalapeno business!) I just can’t believe it. Jalapeno Slugs don’t exist.

The Jala-Slug, drenched in mystery, remains supernatural. Like Bigfoot, believe at your own risk, when the only evidence is eyewitness. There’s just no PROOF that such a Jala-slug ever took SHAPE (This statement is humorous because of the double meaning. When a Shape Shifter or Bagelero working the Bagel Shaping Shift, said Shape Shifter loaves the dough into bagel form and places new born bagel babes on peels to PROOF. Proofing a bagel means that we encourage it to grow or rise through the action of the yeast. As long as the Jala-slug never PROOFS itself to shape shifters, it has no effective way of manifesting as a reality in the bagel factory. So, there’s just no PROOF of a Jala-slug taking SHAPE.)

Bakers cannot corroborate, leaving this story utterly incomplete. Not even the toaster is talking. If rumor has it, the Ja’la’la-slug may have truly slithered cross the oven threshold to achieve immortality in the world of man. But we can never really know, except in each man’s own heart (belly) and soul.

Just remember there is a boy- a boy who believes. He was raised atop a poppy seed muffin (one of our own at the bagel factory); you may say he was born and BREAD here. Anyway, the boy has been here for years and has dreamt of the Jalapeno Slug for as many years as he has been, here. “At last,” he now claims, “the dream is realized”. Is this boy just a muffin? Bageleros may never know. Whose to decide, if Ja’s tale should survive? Perhaps resurrection is not A’ PEELIN’ for today’s proof.

Of a Jala-slug rebirthing,
Our muffin son can only pray.
After that, time will say.

When someone calls out, “Challah!”
Always “Jala” back with lotsa ‘peno,
Cause every day is a Jala-day!

Hey, how do you know when a pepper is mad at you? He gets jalapeno business! Hope you enjoyed my little stories. I will write and catch up with you again soon!

Sincerely,
Casey

You may have heard of Humboldt Fog–it’s a cheese, not the weather report. Every week I cut rounds of Cypress Grove’s flagship offering as I wheel & deal a world of cheese. There is a buzz spreading about Humboldt Fog. It is a cheese that lends itself to legend and this is the cheesy tale of how it brought me full chevre-wheel.

My story starts on the sandy shores of the North Coast five years ago. I was on a week-long vacation from Baltimore, visiting friends and camping. In Arcata, we commenced with local fare: wine, baguette and a wedge of Humboldt Fog served over easy–at the beach, complete with setting sun. Really, that’s all it took.

The soft-ripened cheese made from goat’s milk shone like a lighthouse beacon, the cultural climate thriving on its bloomy gossamer face, with  dark mottling that foreshadowed deeper flavors. Tangy and bright, Fog’s beginnings express the temperate, fanciful coastal atmosphere where goats graze in the salty air. A paper thin line of ash encircles and bolts through the center of this cheese cake. Perhaps it is the glimmer of sapphire that appears where milk and ash meet, or maybe its the citrus-flavored chevre center that teases at a blue cheese. Either way, Humboldt Fog’s creaminess is cut by a quaking layer of ash as it deviates into murkier territories of ocean water-esque turbidity (if you get my drift). You are now engulfed in the blue velvet mystery.

Fog is a stand-alone, as rooted here as the redwoods and singing the praises of its native land with every bite. The magic of that first evening at the beach still stirs my soul. It will forever mark a cornerstone in my life as it embodies many of my core values: local traditional foods, the outdoors, good company and quiet meditation.

When wildfires cut our camping inland short, we evacuated back to Arcata. Enjoying fresh air and farmer’s markets, with the week coming to an end, I resigned from my job in Maryland to sign on for a farm internship in Orleans, California. Thus began a string of work-exchange experiences in the art of making food–weeding with a stirrup hoe, pruning, harvest schedules, watering schedules, preparing beds, earthen oven construction, meat cutting, cheese-making, egg collecting, bread baking, preparing a meal- you name it! I was back in Humboldt in under a year barking up that tall tree again.

Today my relationship to the North Coast and its homegrown offerings are as enriching as ever. Fog is perfectly and simply at home here. I am honored to bring others into the fold as a part of my daily service to the community by sharing my passion for well-crafted food. I appreciate that my enthusiasm resonates with people.

Last week I sent a New Jersey couple home with an entire five pound round of Humboldt Fog. I am always impressed when people make the extra effort of taking it back across the country. I think it is because this cheese somehow embodies the region’s character in a profound way. Abroad, Fog acts as a diplomat, known around the world. It’s an experience giving you many, many senses of this place, and many, many more questions to ponder as it melts in your mouth. Taste it- you’ll see our Humboldt Fog is in the air & under the rind.