I'm thrilled to debut a short film we made about goats. I hope it inspires you to learn more about these delightful creatures and to enjoy them in the fields and on your plate—remembering that, if you like goat cheese and goat's milk yogurt, you contribute to a more sustanainable system by eating goat's meat, too.

 

Here are a few recipes for cooking with goat's milk, cheese and meat:

Cajeta (Goat's Milk Caramel)

Phyllo Triangles with Caramelized Onion & Goat Cheese

Birria Jocotepec (Mexican-Style Braised Goat)

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A few years back, New York magazine announced that eating goat was starting to become a trend. A reader wrote into its website, saying, Here are white people again!!!! Acting like they invented goat meat. That's pretty funny, and also painfully true. Goat is actually the meat most consumed around the world. We're behind, people.Goat is not only delicious, it's sustainable, higher in protein than beef and lower in fat than chicken. This leanness makes it particularly good when braised or steamed so it doesn’t dry out. Fresh goat is still hard to find in New York City markets, so I imagine it's not readily available from your average grocer. Try farmers markets or Halal butchers, or look for it on the menus of hip, locavore-friendly restaurants.

 

At Scarpetta, Scott Conant is known for his roasted capretto—that's Italian for baby goat aka kid. At Girl and the Goat in Chicago, chef Stephanie Izard—who got into goat (and named her restaurant for it) when she discovered that izard is a breed of Pyrenees goat—uses it in a homemade sausage on pizza and in a ragú with gooseberries and rosemary that she tosses with homemade pappardelle. Now she buys her goat from a local farm (as do I) and goes through seven whole goats each week (I do not).

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One of the many nice things I've discovered in moving up to the country is that I can do a bit more ruminating. Not in the most literal sense, of course. I've only got one stomach (although sometimes it may look like two). And unlike cattle, goats, sheep, giraffes, bison, yaks, water buffalo, deer, camels, alpacas, llamas, wildebeest and antelope (I love lists), I am not required to chew my cud. But I do find that I now have time to tromp up an abandoned fire road in the rose-colored dusk, side-stepping slick patches of ice; or stare into the fire mesmerized as I absently stroke the cat's underfluff; or lie on the couch in a rare pool of afternoon sunshine, daydreaming of shallot-beef broth with cheese dumplings or buckwheat crepes or lemon soufflé (all three coming soon, I promise). And during those moments, I can turn a few thoughts over in my mind. Like common pebbles in a tumbler, they start to lose their rough edges, give off a greater luster. Maybe. Anyway, one of the things I've lately been runimating on, if you will, is my estrangement from cow's milk.
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