You think you know Vermont. Maple syrup. Red barns. That postcard shot of a snowy covered bridge. But if you really want to understand this state, if you want to taste it, start with the cheese.
Forget the tourist-trap cheddar cubes on plastic trays. I’m talking about raw milk funk bombs and cheeses that taste like they were aged in the root cellar of a poet. Vermont is a dairy dreamland. Its cheese scene hits hard. The best part? It’s not polished, not perfect, and definitely not trying to be cute. It’s honest, it’s messy, and it’s absolutely worth eating your way through.
Why Vermont Cheese Actually Matters
It starts with the milk. Good cheese doesn’t come from sad cows standing in mud. Vermont’s cows, goats, and sheep eat grass, breathe clean mountain air, and live on farms where people still name their animals. You can taste that.
Then there’s the obsession. These are not factory lines. These are small-batch artisans tweaking humidity levels like they’re tuning a jazz solo. It’s personal. It’s weird. And it’s beautiful.
The Heavy Hitters
🧀 Cabot Creamery
A cooperative since 1919. A staple. The Seriously Sharp Cheddar is a rite of passage. Try the Habanero or Alpine-style too. Cabot is the backbone of Vermont cheese. Sharp, salty, and proudly old school.
🧀 Jasper Hill Farm
Tucked up in Greensboro. These guys age cheese in underground caves that feel more like a Bond villain’s lair than a creamery. Harbison is their crown jewel. Soft, spoonable, and wrapped in spruce bark. It’s like eating a forest floor in the best possible way.
🧀 Vermont Creamery
If you think goat cheese is chalky and boring, you haven’t tasted theirs. Their chèvre is bright and fresh. Their triple creams are silky enough to make you forget every bad cheese plate you’ve ever had. Bonne Bouche is a good place to start. It’s ash-ripened, a little funky, and completely unforgettable.
🧀 Consider Bardwell Farm
Raw milk. Alpine-style. Aged with patience. This place straddles the border near New York and makes cheeses that are bold without being obnoxious. Rupert is the one to grab. Nutty, grassy, and perfect for grilled cheese that actually tastes like something.
What Makes Vermont Cheese Culture Different?
🍂 Local Pride: In Vermont, food isn’t just food. It’s a conversation. It’s not unusual to meet a cheesemaker who can tell you exactly what their goats ate that week and how that’s going to change the flavor of the next batch.
🧀 The Vermont Cheese Trails: This is a real thing. Over 45 cheesemakers, all packed into one small state. Farm tours, cheese tastings, barn cats, and dirt roads that lead to greatness. It’s like a wine trail, but with boots and a lot more brine.
🛍️ Farmers Markets: Forget shrink wrap and plastic tubs. You’ll find wedges wrapped in wax paper, free samples on toothpicks, and cheesemakers who treat you like a friend. The whole thing feels like a community potluck curated by food nerds.
What to Pair It With
- Maple Syrup – Yes, on cheese. Especially blue or chèvre. Trust the process.
- Apples and Hard Cider – Vermont grows good apples. Pair them with sharp cheddar and you’ll understand why locals never shut up about it.
- Craft Beer – Vermont has more breweries per capita than anywhere else. A creamy brie with a hazy IPA? That’s the move.
- Maple Liqueur or Bourbon Cream – Dessert doesn’t need to be cake. Try a pour of this next to an aged cheddar or a soft bloomy rind and call it a night.
Do Not Leave Vermont Without Trying…
✨ Bayley Hazen Blue – From Jasper Hill. Even blue cheese haters admit it’s good.
✨ Cabot Clothbound Cheddar – Aged in the cellars at Jasper Hill. Sharp, crumbly, and rich.
✨ Fresh Chèvre – Especially if it’s rolled in herbs or cranberries. Buy it from the person who made it.
✨ Weybridge – A small-format soft cheese with a bloomy rind and a center that melts on your tongue.
Final Thoughts
In Vermont, cheese is not just something you throw on a cracker. It’s tradition. It’s labor. It’s love. Every wheel tells a story of the land, the animals, and the hands that made it.
So don’t waste your time with grocery store knockoffs. Take the detour. Follow the unpaved road. Walk into a barn and let someone hand you something they made that morning. It might be funky. It might be strange. But it will be real.
And that’s what food is supposed to be.
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