AMERICA’S DAIRYLAND
We carry one of the largest selections of Wisconsin cheese on the Gulf Coast. You’ll find it throughout the store, in our cheese case, at the deli counter and in the dairy aisle. Start there.
No state has shaped the way we eat cheese in America more than Wisconsin has. It produces over 600 varieties and roughly a quarter of all the cheese made in the United States. Wisconsin has 1,200 licensed cheesemakers, more than any other state, and it is the only state that requires a license to make cheese commercially. Wisconsin doesn’t just make more cheese than anyone else. It wins more, too. Most recently, Wisconsin cheesemakers won 135 awards at the World Championship Cheese Contest, more than any other state or country, and more than the next five countries combined.
New York had the first cheese factory. Ohio had its moment too; the western part of the state was known as Cheesedom for 50 years. Then Wisconsin showed up and never looked back.
Settlers arrived in the mid-1800s in search of opportunity. They found it in Wisconsin. The cool climate, rich soil and clean water were perfect for dairy farming and reminded many of home. The Swiss brought rich, nutty Alpine-style cheeses they’d been making for centuries. The Germans brought limburger: bold, pungent, not for the timid. The Italians brought mozzarella, provolone and gorgonzola. The French arrived with brie and camembert, the kind of cheese that deserves a proper knife and a good cracker.
The English brought the recipe for cheddar. (It may be the nicest thing they’ve ever done for American food.) Wisconsin perfected it. Today, the state is the nation’s leading producer of cheddar.
Wisconsin’s first commercial cheese factory was established in 1841 by Anne Pickett, who used milk from her neighbors’ cows.
In 1885, a young Joseph F. Steinwand was working in his father’s factory when he developed something new; he named it after their town, Colby. It’s softer and more open than cheddar, with a higher moisture content. It actually behaves itself. It slices cleanly and melts beautifully. Like Tim’s jalapeños and onions, for instance. Unlike cheddar or swiss or brie, Colby has no European ancestor. It was invented here, for American tastes. Combine it with Monterey jack, a California original, and you get one of the most popular cheeses in America.
That cheddar and colby on Tim’s smashburger? Now you know why.
