On my way to a conference in Ontario I was lured off the highway by a sign advertising a cheese factory museum. Cheese! My favorite thing! I was hoping for a tour and fresh curds, but it really was just a museum. A small, understaffed little community museum with a main building and a few outposts, one for the blacksmith and one for the cheesemaker. No docents, just paper signs taped up above bits of machinery to explain what they were.
Cheese factory museum. I guess I latched onto the first two words and got my hopes up.
These old signs caught the glare of the open window.
I think this is for cutting blocks of cheese, but frankly, I was still in a state of disappointment over the lack of actual cheese that I forgot to read the sad little signs.
There were more of these in a big vat on the floor, and I think they were for stirring what would later become cheese, except not here because there was no cheese. Did I mention there was no cheese?
Jugs in which to transport milk to be made into cheese.
Oh, I should have read what these were. I believe they are for printing cheese labels. There was no cheese.
This long board is for stamping cheese. I could have stamped, but there was still no cheese.
Large (empty) cheese boxes. So sad. And an ice block grabber that could double as a cheese grabber, were there cheese to grab.
And this is the blacksmith’s shop across the drive. No cheese here either. Shame.
