This is Part Four of a five part series devoted to pioneer cheesemaker Sally Jackson. See Part I here, Part II here, Part III here and Part V here.

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Debra Dickerson on a trip to Sally Jackson’s Farm in the late 1990s:

I remember first selling Sally’s cheese at Zingerman’s in the mid-90s. I called to purchase cheese and joyfully for me, Sally agreed. There was only one cheese available at the time, wrapped in leaves. I asked her about the name. ‘Cheese in leaves’ I believe she said. At Zingerman’s we were looking for some of the details surrounding the cheese to help build a sense of place and identity for customers. Sally quickly lost patience with my questions. I thanked her for her time and thought – well,  ‘Cheese with Leaves’ it will be. Summoning my courage, I called again. This time I got Sally’s husband Roger on the phone. We went on to have a riotous and most informative conversation. The cheese became ‘Okanogan at Zingermans.’

A few years later Daphne Zepos, Kate Arding and I took a trip to see Sally and Roger. Kate (former cheesemonger and one of the founders of Culture Magazine) was buying Sally’s cheese for Tomales Bay Foods at the time. When we arrived, Sally met us without an ounce of fanfare, she was all business. I was surprised at what a tiny woman she was, her hair tied back in a kerchief. I remember having to hustle to keep up with her.

I will never forget walking into Sally’s dairy. Functional. Spotless. Wood scrubbed and worn. Everything was spotlessly clean. A wood burning stove, a very large cauldron to heat the milk, an impeccably organized aging room and the perfectly bundled wheels, wrapped in leaves and twine. And a basset hound looking at us through the door, lovingly. Sally gruffly snarled at the dog, named Doris, who madly wagged her tail and sauntered away. It was love.

But it was the canning jars on the window that linger in my mind, small jars filled with the most magnificent vibrantly colored wild flowers. A jar on every window sill, the light reflecting through the crystal clear water. Were the flowers in honor of our visit? No, I think not. This Sally Jackson is a very complex woman, I thought to myself.

We met Roger, a big bear of a man who was clearly enamored with Sally. He had a big handshake, with paws that felt like they were strong enough to hold the world together. And such a joyous fellow – always a smile and twinkle in his eye. Sally and Roger told us the story of their courtship in New York City and subsequent transcontinental trip across the country. About the energy grant from Jimmy Carter that enabled them to begin their cheese making venture. And hilarious stories about Steve Jenkins!

The next morning when we arrived back at the farm, Sally piled us all in the car and we went out to pick chestnut leaves. She would freeze them for use in the future, for wrapping cheese. It was a wonderful experience, and made us feel like we were able to compensate a bit for monopolizing their time. I remember those huge old trees, and Sally telling us stories about the people who planted them. I felt as if I was in an enchanted forest.

I have always been proud to sell Sally’s cheese. I wish Sally and Roger much strength. I know they have the good wishes of all of us who were lucky enough to share their cheese and their story with others.

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Debra Dickerson, a longtime cheese industry veteran, works for Cowgirl Creamery in Petaluma, California.

Tomorrow:  Where it all began, and more.

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Laura Werlin on Sally Jackson:

The main thing I remember about Sally is that once you got her talking, she never seemed to stop. I, then a fledgling cheese book author, wasn’t quite sure how to take her when I interviewed her for The New American Cheese, but she certainly was entertaining. How did this woman, practically blind, make cheese on her stovetop? Though I never got to see her farm, she sure painted a vivid picture. I kind of visualized Annie Oakley at the stove, stirring and stirring, in between sharpshooting or, in Sally’s case, milking animals and doing farm chores. That may not have been the case, but that’s somehow what I saw. She’s truly an American cheese icon, which is why I chose to put her cheese on the cover of the book.

She certainly represents cheesemaking pioneers in that she continued doing what she did the way she’d been doing it pretty much since Day One. She wasn’t all that concerned about innovating once she got her formula down. That said, her cheese WAS an innovation. Who, in this country, ever wrapped their cheeses in grape or chestnut leaves before she did it? Also, back when she started, no one would have had the nerve to give their cheese an eponymous name. Indeed, I don’t know anyone who does that now? It was courageous of her to do that because in those days, Americans only bought cheeses that they’d already heard of — cheddar, Monterey Jack, maybe Gruyere — but Sally Jackson cheese? Then again, her distribution was tiny, so hers was a foodie’s food, a chef’s find, a jewel from northeast Washington that only insiders knew about — and loved.

Though many people in this country, even cheese lovers, won’t have ever heard of her, that doesn’t make her contribution any less important. Knowingly or not, she helped pave the way for cheesemakers today by virtue of the quality of her cheese, the physical beauty of it, and the fact she did it her way.

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Laura Werlin has written four books about cheese, including the groundbreaking The New American Cheese (published in 2000), which featured Sally Jackson’s cheese on the cover. Her most recent book, Grilled Cheese, Please!: 50 Scrumptiously Cheesy Recipes, will be released in March of this year. 

Tomorrow:  Debra Dickerson of Cowgirl Creamery recounts a trip to Sally Jackson’s farm with fellow cheese mavens Daphne Zepos and Kate Arding.

This is Part Two of a five part series devoted to pioneer cheesemaker Sally Jackson. See Part I here; Part III here, Part IV here and Part V here.

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Steve Jenkins on Sally Jackson:

I shipped SJ’s cheese to my extended family, fully six different addresses this past Christmas.  That’s a measure of the regard I have for Roger and Sally.

First time I ever spoke to her was by telephone in the early ’90s. I was feeling very full of myself, as usual, and I told her in high dudgeon that I was insulted that she existed without having first informed me, and how on earth could she be selling that cheese I had just seen in Balducci’s and not to me at Dean & DeLuca.  She took it, and we commenced a long business and personal relationship, and I cultivated one, too, with Roger.

I often gave Sally a long and hard time about being so morose, so laconic all the time, and I actually succeeded a few times at jollying her out of her usual funk.  She even came all the way to Seattle when I was there on book tour, and I met one or both of their boys, too, which made me feel even more devoted to the family.  I wrote about her cheese in magazines and in my Cheese Primer. I talked at length about her and Roger and her cheese on NPR many times, I offered her cheese at innumerable lecture/tastings over the years, I sold her cheese over my counters with my own hacked up and calloused hands, and I made lots of folks irretrievable devotees of the Okanogan Wonderment for 20 years.

Sally and Roger cannot better be described than that they are American Treasures.

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Steve Jenkins is the author of Cheese Primer. First published in 1996, it was one of the first good cheese books that helped introduce the concept of fine cheese to the American public.

Tomorrow: Author Laura Werlin on Sally Jackson

This is Part 1 of a weeklong tribute to Washington Cheesemaker Sally Jackson, who recently closed her cheesemaking operation after over 30 years in business. See Part II here; Part III here, Part IV here and Part V here.

Sally Jackson is a pioneer of the modern artisan cheesemaking movement in the United States. She started making cheese in 1979 in Okanogan County, Washington WAY before the practice became as fashionable as it is today…. way before many of us heard of cheese produced outside of Europe. And, I daresay, before many current adult cheese lovers were even born.

This was also well before the advent of farmers markets, so in order to sell cheese, Sally and husband Roger drove the cheeses to Seattle in search of a customer base. There, they managed to find a few forward thinking chefs and cheesemongers who purchased her goods. Soon Sally Jackson’s cheeses were being sold in New York City.

I was lucky enough to be able to visit the Jackson farm a few years ago. Sally was not keen on having her picture taken directly, but she allowed me to observe and photograph her while she made cheese. It was her practice to heat her milk (be it goat, cow or sheep’s milk) on a wood burning stove in her cheese room, a relic left over from when the farm didn’t have electricity. I watched her stir the curds with her hands; she knew when they were ready completely by feel.

After draining the curds, Jackson scooped the curds in ceramic molds. Later, once the cheeses were completely set, she’d wrap them in leaves – brown chestnut leaves for the sheep’s milk and cow’s milk cheeses and green grape leaves for the goat’s milk cheeses.

As the decades passed, Sally Jackson winnowed down her production (which once included all manner of fresh and aged cheeses and even ice cream) and focused solely on those familiar, gorgeous leaf wrapped wheels of sheep, goat and cow’s milk cheeses that most of us knew and love(d).

It is often said and written that Laura Chenel started the modern artisan cheese movement in America. As many know, I’m fond of mentioning that Sally Jackson started in the same year. While Jackson’s remote location and tiny production kept her out of the spotlight, Chenel’s proximity to San Francisco’s burgeoning food scene and Alice Waters’ now iconic Chez Panisse restaurant propelled her, and the artisan cheese movement, into the spotlight. But the point is not who came first, the point is really to say that we’re all the beneficiaries of the efforts of these two women, and other visionary people who have devoted their lives and careers to making cheese in those early days.

So the next time you look in a cheese case and see dozens upon dozens of locally made cheeses, think about how far the artisan cheese industry has come in the past several decades. Remember the pioneers of the movement, like Sally Jackson.

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Tomorrow: Part II with  Steve Jenkins of Fairway Market in New York.