Last modified: Sunday, February 24, 2008 12:59 AM EST ZUCK: What I learned at the happy cow place About an hour's drive north of San Diego, state route 79 branches off the interstate and takes you through some beautiful country. This narrow ribbon of asphalt passes by retail plazas and apartment complexes before stretching out toward the hills and fields that are still today dominated by dairy farms. It's where some of California's famous "happy cows" reside, amidst farm houses and windmills. Unfortunately the passing motorist will observe that "happy cows" are definitely no less smelly than "unhappy cows." If you don't speed right by it you'll spot a covered wagon alongside the roadway with a sign that says, "Winchester Cheese Company." Turn down a dirt road, pray your shocks don't give out, and pull up to a weather-beaten trailer-slash-welcome center adorned with a myriad of cheery slogans, from the straightforward, "Have a Gouda Day!" to the slightly incomprehensible "For Cheese a Jolly Gouda Fellow!" and the unabashedly enthusiastic, "Gouda, Gouda, Gouda!" Yes, you've arrived in gouda country. Jules Wesselink, owner and operator of Winchester Cheese Co., has been a dairy farmer in California since the 1950s. But he didn't think to start making cheese until that fateful day in 1995 when, towards the end of a late-night three-hour marathon of Laverne & Shirley reruns, he ran out of Cheese Whiz to spray on top of his last Ritz cracker. Overcome by the absurd irony of having hundreds of cows walking through his front yard but not a slice or sliver of cheese to show for it, Jules began making gouda the way his relatives did back in Holland. Which is to say, while wearing wooden shoes. Visitors to Jules's farm can learn about the different types of gouda they produce, watch the cheesemaking as it happens, and sample a variety of cheeses with or without Ritz crackers. I learned that the "super-aged" gouda, which has been sitting in Jules's sock drawer for over a year, has a much more intense flavor than the mild gouda, which only spends about 60 days with Jules's delicates. I watched the cheesemakers separating the chunky curds (which will become cheese) from the liquid whey (which will be poured down Cousin Linda's back by her bratty little brother, a long-standing dairy farm practical joke). I learned that the cheesemakers do not like it when strangers touch their curds or even sneeze on them. I learned that a new camera will sink when added to a vat of curds and that cheesemakers do not have much of a sense of humor when it comes to dropping things into their cheese vats, accidental or not. If you are invited to stay for dinner (which strangely I wasn't), undoubtedly you will be treated to a wonderful meal accentuated by some farm-fresh cheese. But even if you are tossed out on your rear end and asked never to return, a visit to the Winchester Cheese Company is a pleasant way to spend an afternoon. Just be careful not to step on any "happy cow" droppings, and make sure your camera is strapped securely to your wrist! BILL ZUCK, a Foxboro native now living in San Diego, is in the market for a camera equipped for underwater and under-whey use. You can reach him at wcz78@yahoo.com.