Leelanau Cheese weathers dairy exodus to turn 25

Photos by Madeleine Vedel

By Madeleine Hill Vedel

Sun contributor

“It’s a challenge to stay open,” says Anne Hoyt, co-owner with her husband John of Leelanau Cheese. “But the only reason we are staying open is that the business is good. It feels so wrong to close a business that is doing well. We sell a lot of cheese. But at the same time we are in that situation where we can never get enough help, and now the milk situation and new regulations… Eventually if nothing happens, we will have to close. We won’t be able to physically keep going.”

The Hoyts are simultaneously celebrating their 25th year making and selling cheese in Leelanau County, and contemplating more the when than the if of closing their doors.

“One and a half years ago we lost our milk supply. Our world collapsed. No milk equals no cheese. The MMPA (Michigan Milk Producers’ Association) helped us find another farm, an hour and a half away. But we were not really happy with the milk. We weren’t making the quality of cheese we wanted to make. It wasn’t their fault, but you can’t make an artisanal cheese with a non-artisanal milk.” Anne recounts the moment in a resigned voice. “Happily, we were able to find a different farm, south of Kalkaska, to work with. We love their milk. We recently opened a 60-day raclette and were very happy. The fromage blanc is nice and creamy.”

Cheese making requires milk. It is the essential ingredient to producing quality cheese. And not all milks are created equal. A dairy looking to maximize the production of their cows might up the grain feed. This is fine for the fluid milk market. But for cheese, pasture time and hay are the keys to good milk. Cheese makers feel and taste the difference in the end result. When Leelanau Cheese opened its doors 25 years ago, there were a handful of dairy farmers still operating in Leelanau County. At the beginning of the century there were dozens. “Every barn with a silo used to be a dairy farm.” Ann tells me. But now, all but one have closed up shop, sold off their cows and switched to beef cattle or hay production. 

In 2017 Denis Garvin sold off his dairy cows, the end of three generations in the dairy business. He had been selling milk to the Hoyts for over 15 years, a happy arrangement for both parties. The cheese makers had never purchased his full milk supply, needing days off, something a dairy cow never has. So he and his dairy colleagues relied (and those still in business in the state still rely) on the MMPA and Co-ops to purchase their milk and distribute it where and as needed. In this way, they could weather any possible misfortunes of a single purchaser.

Denis Garvin shared some of his history with me: “When we [his wife and he] took over the family farm in 1989 there were 12 dairy farms in Leelanau County. Then when we got out there were only five of us. Shortly after that Don Bugai, then Ron Schaub in the fall (2017), then Clarence in the spring of 2018. The only one left is Terry Lautner.”

When I asked him what he is doing with his farm and how his family is managing post-dairy he said, “Beef cattle. They’re a lot less work. An hour total feeding them morning and night. I try to sell locally. I still have all the milking stuff in the parlor and when I go through there I wish I could still use it. I do miss it. I helped my dad for so many years, then my own time.”

Milk is an international commodity, sold on the global market, and as such its value climbs and falls with the economy, trade negotiations, world events, etc., “In 2015-2016 the milk price was way up, to $22 a hundred weight. And then it dropped to $14 a hundred weight. That was the bottom line. We still made a little profit, but didn’t get rich.” Denis tells me.

That drop-in milk price provoked the closings of the dairies nearby, but also across the nation, according to the April 9, 2019 edition of Michigan Farm News, “The USDA quietly released a statistic in March that should alarm us all. More than seven dairies folded every day in 2018.” The recent recession has lasted for six straight years, with no end in sight. For Michigan, that has meant 143 dairies closed over the past six months (Michigan Farm News, May 20, 2019) to a total of 1,315 permitted Grade-A dairy farms, a nearly 10% decline over the past year. However, the quantity of milk and the numbers of cows have barely lowered, as in most cases, the cows sold by the smaller dairies were redistributed and absorbed by the larger dairies still in business. 

This is sad news for Leelanau County and for future cheese makers who would like to either take over the well-established and much-loved Leelanau Cheese or create their own production up here. The time and effort required to drive an hour, 90 minutes or more to collect the milk, doubled with the round-trip and time on-site pumping the milk into the truck and off-loading it at the creamery, is time and effort that cuts into an already very long and strenuous work day.

Cheese making is a labor of love. And Anne and John epitomize this. Over the years they have grown the business, they would work seven days a week, some short days, many 10- to 12-hour days. They made a choice to keep their cheese at a very affordable $15/lb and to distribute it through local grocery stores. Leelanau Raclette lovers were able to find the cheese not only at Oryana, but at Tom’s, Oleson’s, Meijer and most of the smaller retailers in our region. 

Good employees come and go. Finding the right staff has never been easy. It’s a strenuous job, and over the years, even the best have come to a point where they decided to move onto something different. Cheese-making demands a lot of one, and not the least a passion and sensitivity to the art and science. Uncertain as to whether there is a serious buyer for the creamery in their future, Anne and John have decided to reduce production to one day a week (32 wheels of cheese in a day plus fromage blanc) this summer, and to shift to a direct-sale marketing strategy. Look for their cheese at the outdoor market in Northport, in their shop on M-22, south of Suttons Bay, and on the menus of some of our best local restaurants. 

“We don’t have the staff, so we have to slow down. The next people I train will be people buying the creamery.  In the summer we normally make fromage blanc twice a week, doing 70-80-hour weeks. But that’s way too hard,” says Anne.

Reminiscing, Anne continued: “We started with a $7,000 loan from John’s sister. We were always very frugal. We paid off our first ten-year loan in eight years, our second in six. All of those little things. We’ve never spent what we didn’t have. We’ll be paying off the last loan, a ten-year loan, for the creamery this next year. But we won’t be retiring. We cannot completely stop working. Though we’ve saved what we could, we don’t have enough for that. But we can slow down.”

In the meantime, Anne revels in the many visits to the creamery, and the innumerable exchanges with clients who’ve been purchasing the cheese since they opened shop 25 years’ ago in Omena, “We’ve seen their kids growing. Toddlers are in college, kids who are now married with kids themselves. It’s so interesting when you think about it.” And with those who are just discovering her cheese. 

Leelanau Cheese has won many awards, from a First Prize at the Michigan State Fair their first year in business, which John remembers with nostalgia and pride. For him, this first award proved he was doing what he was meant to do, bringing his European cheese making skills back to his home state. In 2007 they won Best of Show at the American Cheese Society conference in 2007—akin to winning the Oscar for Best picture. More recently, in 2016, they won Super Gold at the World Cheese Awards in Spain.

For those of us who have been privileged to have Leelanau Cheese Raclette and Fromage Blanc as staples on our cheese platters, to add to omelettes, grilled cheese, salads, scalloped potatoes and more, we will just have to enjoy it in and for this moment that we still may. For, as with many good things, this too may soon come to an end. 

“It is definitely a challenge to stay open,” says Anne, as I nibble just one more chunk of her aged raclette.