I’ve long had a dream that someday I would run away, buy a picturesque stone cottage outside of some lovely French village, raise goats and make cheese. No, really. Somewhere in this magical dream I’ve obviously won the lottery or found a generous patron because tedious details like mortgages, taxes and health insurance don’t make appearances in dreams and for good reason. It pretty much bursts the bubble and what kind of dream is that? In the meantime, in the realm of my current reality, I’ll have to make due with making cheese in my city kitchen with goat milk I’ve purchased – gasp! – at The Jewel.
STRESSCAKE 