Summer 2010
Name recognition
Family legacy and new-school farming set the table for the next generation of von Trapps
By Wayne Davies
In 1959, when Werner and Erika von Trapp left Stowe with their young family to take up farming on a 200-acre hill farm on Waitsfield Common, there were 70 dairy farms in the Mad River Valley. Today there are less than 10. The von Trapp farm looks out at the ski trails of Sugarbush and Mad River Glen. Some might find symbolism in this — the Mad River Valley’s past, agricultural work, looking toward its future, the vacation business. But Sebastian and Daniel von Trapp, grandsons of Werner and Erika (and great-grandsons of Captain Georg von Trapp), see things differently. They grew up on the farm, now operated by their parents Martin and Kelly, and were concerned about what would happen to it when their parents wanted to retire.
Today, the farm is just 127 acres, the result of parcels having been carved off as Werner and Erika’s five children grew up and began their own lives. The herd size is 90, small, even by Vermont standards. Rather than corn silage, the von Trapps feed their animals hay, and they require more than the farm can supply. That means haying six or seven other parcels scattered around the valley. A new Kubota was purchased four years ago, to replace their 30-year-old tractor, in anticipation of running a round baler, which they were able to buy last year.
In 2006, the von Trapps sought and received organic certification, a decision made for economic and philosophical reasons. Organic farmers receive a price premium for their milk. In spite of this, production costs always seem to increase faster than milk prices, forever squeezing the margins. In 2009, for example, the price received by conventional dairy farmers fell to nearly $11 per hundred pounds of milk, roughly the price paid 30 years ago.
The von Trapp farm is testament to the old New England adage, “Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without.” Everything about the farm has a burnished, well-used look to it, from the converted telephone truck that hauls the sap tank to the 1952 GMC stake body used for haying. There’s no high-tech milking parlor; milking is done stall by stall, a slow, labor-intensive process. This doesn’t bother the von Trapps, who have never put a high price on their own labor. “My folks have an aversion to debt,” offers Sebastian. “They’ve always done it themselves, done without or bought secondhand. It’s how they’ve been able to stay in business.”
The von Trapp boys graduated from the University of Vermont. Sebastian, 30, was a business major. His brother Dan, 28, studied forestry. Like farm kids everywhere, they felt the need to try their hand at other things. Sebastian worked in software consulting for several years. Dan built custom timber-frame homes. Still, the farm and its future were never far from their minds. The brothers knew they had a name that enjoyed a favorable association with Vermont; but they also knew that in the calculus of dairy farming, von Trapp milk is worth no more than the milk from the Jones farm. Taking a page from his college economics textbook, Sebastian reasoned that if you produced the raw material, in this case milk, and could turn it into a finished product, especially one with a recognizable brand, the economics of dairy farming would change. With a herd of butterfat-rich Jerseys and Ayrshires and a growing demand for Vermont craft-produced foods, cheesemaking seemed an ideal fit. The brothers settled on the name von Trapp Farmstead for their venture. “We hoped the name would open some doors initially, but we knew that, long-term, our product would be judged on its own merits,” Sebastian explains.
Sebastian quit his computer software job and began an apprenticeship in cheesemaking with Andy and Mateo Kehler at Jasper Hill Farm in Greensboro. Under Dan’s direction, the brothers rebuilt the farm’s milk house and erected a 36-by-24-foot cheese house, attaching both to the existing dairy barn. “Probably the only post-and-beam cheese house in the state,” says Dan with a laugh. The brothers also traveled to England, where they visited artisanal cheesemaking operations throughout the country, took notes and picked the brains of several of the country’s best craft cheesemakers. When it came time to purchase equipment, Sebastian scoured the Internet for second-hand hardware because, as he says, “Stainless steel doesn’t wear out.”
After months of experimentation with various styles of cheese, the brothers began production in earnest in June 2009. Their first offering was a semisoft wash-rind cheese they named Oma, German for grandmother, in honor of their own grandmother, Erika, who lives just across the pasture in the house she and Werner shared until his death three years ago. Martin von Trapp acknowledges the important role his mother played in farm operations. “My mother was the real farmer of the two. She had gone to agricultural college in Austria.”
Like most small Vermont cheesemakers, the von Trapps do not have the large, climate-controlled vaults required to properly age quantities of cheese. After spending a week in a small aging cellar at the farm, the wheels of Oma go to Jasper Hill Farm to mature in cellars built especially for that purpose. There, von Trapp Farmstead’s Oma ages for 60 days, during which time the cheese receives the regular brine-washing this style of cheese requires. Then, through a co-branding agreement, the Kehler brothers market and distribute the von Trapps’ cheese, along with the offerings of more than a half-dozen other producers, to cheese shops throughout the country.
As of March, 45 percent of the farm’s milk was being used for cheesemaking, with the hope of 100 percent by year’s end. Oma had proved a success, and Dan and Sebastian were fine-tuning their next offering. It’s called Scrag Mountain, after the mountain behind the farm. But the folks in Manhattan will just have to wait. For now, the only place you can find it is in the refrigerator in the farm’s milk house. Just put your money in the honor jar.
