Who moved my cheese?

A rural life, as a traditional farmer, may sound good, but it is not without its challenges. Ask Samuel Yonzon, a sound engineer, who went back to his family’s farm in Kalimpong. After 11 years he is looking once again to the big cities to make ends meet, pay off a loan and plan for the education of his kid.

Yonzon and his wife, together with some other families, have been producing Kalimpong cheese, trying to bring it back much after it had vanished from markets. Once a cherished product for its unique flavour and texture, the cheese has mostly faded from public memory, as has the small town of Kalimpong in north Bengal.

It was for the cheese that we sought Yonzon out and the story of how we bought Kalimpong cheese sitting in Delhi followed. Soon, our readers from all over were buying the cheese as well.

But when we spoke to Yonzon again recently for this special anniversary issue of Civil Society, we found him remorseful about the way things had been going.

Kalimpong cheese may well be valued, but lack of infrastructure, access to markets and finance make it tough to earn a living. So, while they will keep making the cheese, it is important also to look at other options.

Our cheese hunt began with an email we received from our friend and columnist, Kiran Karnik. Did we know where Kalimpong cheese could be found? He hadn’t had it in years, but he wanted it now, and how! He was asking us because he knew we track rural foods and other products.

But, unknown to Kiran, there was another good reason to ask us. We grew up eating Kalimpong cheese in Calcutta. Like Kiran, we too hadn’t had it in years. But this was a worthy cause to pursue.

A series of phone calls followed. A colleague who spends months hanging out in Darjeeling was asked, but he said his wife had tried to buy the cheese there — without success. It wasn’t in production anymore, they were told. Calls to Calcutta zeroed in on Keventers outside New Market as a possible store to buy it. But Keventers there and here in Delhi sells only bottled milk and such products. At Nature’s Soul, an organic food store in Delhi, they said they hadn’t heard of it.

Finally, searches on the internet threw up the name of Samuel Yonzon at the Makarios Bous Farm. He and a few others were making the cheese in a village outside Kalimpong — not just as a rural enterprise, but to keep the cheese-making tradition alive.

When we called Yonzon he was tending to his cows and politely asked if he could call back later when he could address our query.

Yonzon did get back and it was agreed that he would sell us 500 gm of Kalimpong cheese for `800, inclusive of the courier charges. It would reach in two separate packs of 250 gm each, one for Kiran and one for us.

An invoice followed on WhatsApp and the payment was made over Google Pay. Then, at every stage Yonzon kept us updated with photos: Cheese packed, cheese being weighed, cheese labelled, cheese handed over to the courier with tracking number.

Days later, in Gurugram, we were all tucking into the cheese and planning to order more — which we did in much the same way. And it was even better than the first consignment.

Kiran’s family recalls that a few drops of oil had formed around the edge which they attribute to the 1,500-km journey during the worst of the heat wave. It is for them a “comfort cheese” — not overly sharp or acidic, no overpowering aroma.

“Expect to get your fingers oily — a thick-butter feel — as you slice the cheese. That said, the texture is moderate: not flaky, but not creamy either. It is a mildly aromatic cheese, exuding a meadow-like, slightly milky, smell. The taste, too, is rustic, more earthy than sharp. Savour the cheese by itself, alternatively, atop bread or crackers that are not heavily flavoured,” they say. 

First published in August 2024 and updated