As a self-identifying foodie, nothing makes me feel more cozy inside than a gooey slice of brie or the sharp tingle of pecorino. I swoon over a thoughtful cheese plate, and relish the way a hunk of cheddar humbly brings a meal together. But more recently, I’ve started to feel some internal hestitations about my beloved cheese. Responding to Anna’s amazing question, “Why do you keep kosher,” I wrote:
“Although I still eat unhechshered cheese, it is starting to feel less “authentically kosher” OR “authentically vegetarian,” to me because of the animal rennet. Not authentically vegetarian for obvious reasons, but not authentically kosher because Kashrut is, to some degree, about the act of intentionally limiting or setting boundaries around what one eats or does not eat, regardless of cravings. And at this point the only reason I still eat unhechshered cheese is because I love it too damn much not to.”
Additionally, my boyfriend (the other thing that makes me feel cozy inside, aside from cheese), keeps kosher. Finding ways for us to eat comfortably together is an ongoing priority. Usually it means we either don’t eat cheese together at all, or we eat a kosher certified cheese that tastes – to my snobby tastebuds – hollow.
So I was delighted yesterday – when shopping at Fairway’s new (and locally controversial) location in Red Hook – to find one of my favorite cheeses has gone kosher: Tillamook.
Tillamook cheddar is a regional legend in the Pacific Northwest. I originally fell in love with their hearty cheddars on weekend hikes in the Willamette National Forest during my first two years of college. On a trip to Portland last spring, my friends and I went for a day hike along the Oregon coast and stopped at the Tillamook factory to sample their “squeaky cheese” (cheese curds), which sputter and whine as you bite into them.
Tillamook rests firmly in my book of “good cheese,” so finding a kosher version felt like a small miracle. Tillamook uses a microbial/vegetable-based rennent instead of an animal-based rennent to produce their kosher medium cheddar.
Looking around online today, I discovered that Cabot offers an OU certified cheddar, although with limited distribution.
Cabot, which is based in Vermont, is the East Coast equivalent to Tillamook. Oddly enough, I first learned of Cabot cheddar during my second two years of college, when I transfered from a university in Oregon to a small college in Vermont (perhaps I was following the cheese?)
Cabot also sells a more widely-available kosher cheddar with a “Tablet-K” certification. Tablet-K, however, is not a universally accepted hechsher. The current debate over its authenticity is fierce. Those who think its legit say that Tablet-K’s demonization has more to do with personal politics of the kashrut industry rather than real halachic issues.
The comments on a recent posting at kosherblog.net give a sense of the controversy.
One the “pro Tablet-K” side:
“The only negative criticism I have heard about Tablet-K is “not recommended” with no further explanation. Is there really a problem with Rabbi Saffra’s certification or is he simply not part of the “club?” Until there is compelling evidence that Rabbi Saffra is not to be trusted or that he is no longer supervising these products, I see no reason why his hashgacha should not be acceptable.”
And the “Anti Tablet-K” side:
“Something is either kosher or not [just like either pregnant or not]. In the kosher marketplace, it is well known that Tablet K is substandard. As to the products and plants tabletK visitor is looking for, there isn’t enough space here to list them all. It’s time for tabletK to stop pretending to sell kosher, and start selling Chofetz Chaim books.”
Oy. For now my personal debate is not quite so complex. I’m just glad that, thanks to my Tillamook discovery, I was able to eat those black bean and spinach nachos – nachos that tasted amazing, satisfied my boyfriend’s kashrut standards, and further deepened my own search for a vegetarian/kosher ideal.