To my taste, Dry Jack is probably the greatest of all American cheeses. Historically, texturally, and flavorfully, it’s a one-of-a-kind “American original.” Long one of my favorite cheeses, Dry Jack was made for decades by one of my favorite people in the cheese world. Sadly, that man—Ig Vella—passed away back in June of 2011. I miss him still—the country could use some of his straight-talking, determinedly loving, thoughtfulness right now.
Ig, inspiringly, continued to work in the dairy almost up until he died at the age of 83. After his passing, his daughter Chickie shared with cheese writer Janet Fletcher: “I did ask him, literally on his deathbed, ‘What would be your vision? What would you like us to carry on?’ And he said, ‘To make a consistently good product and don’t ever compromise quality.’”
The origin story of Dry Jack dates to the years of WWI. Finding his supply of aged grating cheese from Italy cut off by the conflict, and desperate to satisfy his customers, a San Francisco grocer named DeBernardi stumbled upon a forgotten pallet full of inadvertently matured Monterey Jack. What had started out mild and soft had turned into an incredibly delicious, firm-textured and full-flavored aged cheese. Over the years it became a California classic.
In its heyday, Dry Jack was made by a bunch of dairies in the Bay Area. Today, less than half a dozen producers still make it, and, as a result, it’s earned a spot on the Slow Food Ark of Taste, which states, “The traditional products, local breeds, and know-how collected by the Ark of Taste belong to the communities that have preserved them over time.” Dry Jack, Slow Food says, is “considered one of the U.S.’ finest cheeses.” And, as you can tell, I completely agree.
The Vella family began making traditional soft and creamy Monterey Jack (of which we use a great deal at the Roadhouse), Dry Jack, and many other cheeses in the town of Sonoma in 1931 when Ig’s father, an immigrant from the Sicilian town of Gela, started it all. Young Ignazio was three years old when his dad started the dairy. “My father would take me with him on the truck two or three times a week to do the deliveries,” he told me years ago. “It was a two-ton Model A with an open back and a canvas over the top.” The cheese they delivered—then and now—has won so many awards that Ig Vella decided to stop entering it in competitions so others could win. In 2006, Ig received the American Cheese Society’s Lifetime Achievement Award.
One of the great things about Dry Jack is that its flavor is mild enough to appeal to cheese novices, yet complex enough to draw in the most demanding of cheese lovers. There’s really nothing like it anywhere in the world. Dry Jack is a delicious study in contrasts. Full-flavored without being strong; nicely aged, yet still surprisingly soft on the palate; great for eating as-is, but also for grating onto salads, pastas, or soups. It brings hints of aged Gouda, Parmigiano Reggiano, and American cheddar all together into one terrific cheese. I like it in a salad with avocado and toasted walnuts. If summer ever comes around again, or if you live somewhere warmer than southeastern Michigan, Dry Jack is a classic for camping—it holds up well in the heat and can stand to go a good while without being refrigerated.
Fourteen years after Ig passed away, Chickie Vella is determined to keep the family tradition going, and I am determined to support her—and everyone else at Vella Cheese—in the effort. She says, “We don’t know what the future holds, but we plan on being here.” Take home some of this special cheese and support their upstanding effort!
