The year was 2020. I was happily living in New York City, working a steady job in corporate real estate. But suddenly, my days were consumed with back-to-back Zoom calls about social distancing, desk spacing, and return-to-office strategy (oof).
Like many others, my then-fiancé and I joined the great city exodus. By summer, we’d washed ashore on Martha’s Vineyard, living in the cottage where my future mother-in-law had grown up.
The Zoom calls continued, but my enthusiasm for corporate real estate waned. I was restless, burnt out, and looking for an exit.
While doomscrolling Instagram one day, I came across a peppy video of a woman making a cheese board, set to upbeat pop music. She looked … joyful, fulfilled, suspiciously happy. I read the caption and learned that this was her job. She made charcuterie boards for a living. Was that real? Was that allowed?
The more I watched, the more the algorithm fed me. Before long, my feed was a parade of salami roses and cheese arrangement techniques. I was hooked.
For $200, I could enroll in her online “How to Build a Charcuterie Board Business” class. I was a desperate woman seeking a more meaningful way to spend my days. A quick Google search revealed that no one on Martha’s Vineyard was cornering the charcuterie board market. Could it be me? I decided yes. I bought the course. I formed an LLC. Martha’s Vineyard Cheesery was born.
As an eldest daughter and lifelong straight-A student, I dutifully worked through the training modules. The girlboss energy was more than slightly intoxicating. I kept waiting for lessons on, you know, cheese: where it comes from, how it’s made, why it matters. But those lessons never arrived. Instead, we covered topics like “How to Go Viral on Reels” and “How Not to Get Shut Down by the Board of Health.” Useful, sure, but not what I was hungry for. Still, I joined the swelling ranks of pandemic-era charcuterie businesses and got to work.
I bet you’re wondering, do I regret it? Do I regret my $200 investment and my brief membership in the salami rose industrial complex? Absolutely not. Joining the charcuterie board cult was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. It didn’t just inspire me to start a business; it gave me permission—permission to participate in my community, permission to get creative with cheese, permission to ask questions, deepen my learning, and eventually join a broader world of cheese professionals who care about storytelling, tradition, and local foodways.
While I occasionally wince when admitting my entry point into the cheese industry was due to the charcuterie board boom, I’ve made peace with it. I ran a grazing board business for several summers but ultimately followed my cheese curiosity somewhere far more interesting. These days, Martha’s Vineyard Cheesery is reinventing itself around education, experience, and storytelling, and my time is split between work and raising my cadre of cheese-literate kids.
Looking back, it’s clear the salami roses weren’t the destination, but just a stop on my journey. For $200 and a few cringeworthy Instagram memories, that feels like a pretty good deal.
Morgen Schroeder
Morgen Schroeder is the Fairy Cheesemother and educator behind Martha’s Vineyard Cheesery, where she encourages curiosity and food literacy through content creation, cheese tastings, and creative workshops for participants of all ages. She loves making up silly songs and feeding delicious American- made cheese to her two young children. You can read more of her writing on her Substack, Finding Your Cheese, or follow her on Instagram @mvcheesery.
