Issue link: https://digital.copcomm.com/i/648009
W I N T E R / S P R I N G 2 0 1 6 | 6 1 I came by the role of urban farmer accidentally. About ten years ago among my rose bushes, I found an indigenous plant growing, epazote. After telling Paula Lambert about this at a wine dinner, she invited me to bring her the leaves in trade for cheese. I did that for a year or so, then the hook set deeper. I asked her what else I should start growing, possibly for her. "Hoja santa. I can never get enough, and we've started to make a goat cheese that we cover with the fragrant leaves," she said. "Why don't you try growing some of that?" She recommended a local nursery for some starter plants. Not knowing what the plant looked like, I asked the owner, "Where can I find hoja santa?" He looked at me as if to say, "What? Are you kidding me?" An uncomfortable moment was avoided when he added, "You're standing right in front of them." They looked a lot like big fig leaves growing on spindly stalks. In fact the nursery owner warned me, "They grow like bamboo. Hard to get rid of them once they establish themselves." I took it as a sign from the gods that hoja santa (the name means "holy leaf") and I were in for a long run. I spaced my six little plants in the flowerbed, giving plenty of distance be- tween them, so as not to crowd them. Little did I know. I then proceeded to wait for them to grow. The first few harvests were meager. I would gather each leaf and place a paper towel between the leaves, so as not to damage them. Then I'd take my 30 or so leaves to the Mozzarella Company and they'd make a note in a ledger. They were very patient with these baby steps of mine. Hoja santa—also known as sweet Mexican pepperleaf, yerba santa, hierba santa, acuyo, anisillo, root beer plant and sacred pepper—is indigenous to Mesoamerica. Paula told me she first encountered it when Dallas chef Stephan Pyles wrapped salmon with hoja santa at a luncheon for legendary food maven Julia Child in the late '80s. Pyles has been using hoja santa ever since, according to a 2014 Dallas Morning News article, because of its "almost magical aroma" which is "akin to sassafras." Paula was further inspired at the 50th birthday party of Mexican culinary icon Patricia Quin- tana, who wrapped both fish and chicken in hoja santa leaves and steamed them in a pit at her Veracruz ranch. When hoja santa dies back during winter in Texas (once a part of Mexico), it sends invasive runners to reproduce. Like underground rabbits. After a few years, I had hundreds of the plants—such a forest that they crowded out the epazote and basil and fought the rose bushes for growing room. But I loved the way they looked, creating a wall of green, which provided visual relief in the relentless heat of a Texas summer. And, they were blossoming into a cash crop. Texas weather is like its politics—unpredictable with underpinnings of violence. The plants endured the temperature, the downpours and alternating years of drought. They were virtually impervious to disease and insects. But pelted by Tex- as hail, destroyer of skylights and roofs, they stood no chance. I'm acutely aware of (and traumatized by) the specter of hail (which also hit in 2012 and 2014) but have learned to adapt to rapidly changing weather in order to keep from losing an entire crop. I harvest more frequently, starting in June. Paula showed me how to pull the leaves off in a way that encourages further growth. I no longer wrap the leaves between layers of paper towels; there are too many for that. The six plants have sired close to 600. This year I harvested five times and had my healthiest crop, collectively weighing in at well over 100 pounds. But it's Paula's hoja santa–wrapped goat cheese that drives this backyard urban farmer. I love the way it tastes and love as much how it connects me to chefs and cheesemongers all across America. It has developed a national foot- print from the momentum of multiple awards—including first place accolades from the American Dairy Goat Association in 2005, American Artisanal Treasure Awards in 2007 and the American Cheese Society in 2011—the latter one con- sidered the Oscars for cheese. The Waldorf Astoria New York has it on their menu. And I've seen the cheese on display from Cowgirl Creamery in San Francisco to Murray's Cheese in New York. Once while in New York, a huge storm hit and I ducked into Beecher's Handmade Cheese in the Flatiron District to escape the rain. There, behind the counter, was my hoja santa alongside cheese from all over the world. For years Artisanal Fromagerie & Bistro in New York championed the cheese to Gotham- ites, even experimenting with aging it in their nearby caves. But the beauty of this cheese is in its freshness. Like a white wine that is newly released, one that isn't meant to age, the hoja santa cheese that Paula and her ladies make at the Mozzarella Company should be enjoyed early and often. The delicacy that the leaf imparts to the bouquet and the flavor of the fresh goat cheese need no further aging—it is perfection. Texas chefs looking for local products have also championed the cheese, like Brad Phillips at Asador Restaurant in the Renaissance Hotel in Dallas, who in- corporates the hoja santa goat cheese in plates along with other locally sourced produce, meat and fish. "Houston has really become a major urban center for our cheese, thanks to Houston Dairymaids, as there are so many ethnic chefs looking for ingredients to go with their Southwestern or Mexican regional cui- sine," Paula notes. "I have been a huge proponent of an herb that's called hoja santa," says Rick Bayless in a YouTube video. The Chicago-based chef who has lionized traditional Mexican cuisine employs a gardener to grow hoja santa year-round, no easy task in winter. Such is his attachment and commitment to sweet Mexican pepperleaf. Meanwhile, my little urban garden keeps expanding with more hoja santa progeny. Where the basil once was, hoja santa has taken over. The once pro- digious rose bushes sulk in its shadow during the warm growing months. Hoja santa is the alpha plant, but cheese lovers across America are not complaining. And the heart transplant, the one that turned me into an avid urban grower, it took well. I am already planning my next garden cash crop—as soon as the State of Texas passes a law to make it legal. Dallas cheesemaker Paula Lambert's hoja santa- wrapped goat cheese can be found at fine cheese purveyors from coast to coast. ■cr