An apt­ly-named aged-goat cheese so play­ful and salty that it brings to mind the Great God Pan cavort­ing around a field with his pipes, sur­round­ed by half-naked nymphs. I've only seen this once at the Rain­bow (the cheese, not Pan—I doubt Pan would grace the veg­e­tar­i­an aisles of the Rain­bow, unless it were to wreak some mer­ry mis­chief with his pipes) and more often at the Fer­ry Plaza Farm­ers Mar­ket. Like Pan, capri­cious can go either way—it can be full of whim­sy and charm, or it can cross the line from mis­chief to mal­ice with­out warning.

3 replies on “Capricious”

Ah but, Lynne! They have Capri­cious at Rain­bow now! The nymphs who run the cheese counter were sam­pling it, secret­ly, this week­end. I knew that they were up to some­thing — they all had mis­chie­vous smiles and furtive, dart­ing eyes — so, I asked what was going on. One of them hand­ed me a lit­tle nug, with the under­stand­ing that I would not be all telling every­one and shit. But per­haps my nug was too small to ful­ly grasp the poten­cy that you speak of. Per­haps I will have to go back tonight, and get some. More soon, maybe.

doug, a nug of capri­cious is not enough to ful­ly appre­ci­ate it. a nug of the capri­cious is like try­ing to catch a whiff of the barn­yard when you're five miles away. you need to get in there and get close—hunker down with a chunk, not a nug.

the capri­cious cheese­mak­er was at the farmer's mar­ket again yes­ter­day, with sam­ples and pic­tures of his goat herd. the farm is up near Eure­ka, on the coast. they age it in a cave by the ocean and i think the salt air is clear­ly what makes it so salty. it's a whiff of the brine-yard.

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