Bulgaria: A cheese aged in a sheep hide

Exploring the dairy traditions of the Rhodope mountains in Smilyon.

Pashata, with his prize, a nearly extinct cheese. Just look at those hands, will you!!

This is more of a leap of faith, get a tip, have a hunch, and just go there type of trip.  My favorite kind of trip, and the most rewarding when the tree bears fruit.  Not much research done before hand.  Low expectations.  I will be meeting up with a friend in Serbia in mid October, so I had 12 days to see what I could find traveling solo in Bulgaria.  A few people mentioned the Rhodope mountains, and a town called Smilyon, where I maybe could find what I look for.

The town of Smilyon, which is in good shape compared to those further up the road.

As we got closer to the Greek border, the road deteriorated and the settlements became smaller and more run down. I had been put in touch with Iliya Godiv who is active in promoting the culinary traditions of this region.  We turned up a dirt track with more potholes than road, and rounded a corner to see Salih Pashata cutting tall weeds on his potato patch with a scythe.  “This is going to be good!” my livestock guardian angel promised. Pashata greeted us with a vague nod, and we unloaded a milk can from the back of an old Mercedes Van that had been converted into a milk truck.  A square building built of rough wood poles was wrapped in thick plastic advertisement panels.

Pashata feeds the fire while Iliya stirs the pot.

There were two pot-stands over ash heaps, we lit a fire on one of them.  We poured the milk into a copper kettle that appeared to be coated in tin, and looks somewhat similar to those I just saw on Sardinia.  I stirred the milk and Pashata told me to slow down. “Respect the milk” Iliya translated while chuckling.  “Treat it gently, like a baby in the bath tub”.  I reckon I’ve made cheese with well over 100 people, and all of them do things slightly differently.  I feel that there is often no discernable, practical, technical importance behind superficial aspects of their techniques.  Things just become habitual, and once you have your way - and the cheese is working - deviation is not encouraged.  I get it.  Idiosyncrasy, ritual, and regular repetition are integral to this craft.

“Gently, like a baby in the bathtub”