Shy Brothers Farm

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The Local Food Report: Shy Brothers Cheese
The Diary of a Localvore

Meet Kevin, Arthur, Norman, and Karl Santos, the faces behind Shy Brothers Cheese. Two years ago they didn't know a thing about cheesemaking; today, they churn out thousands of pieces a week of the thimble shaped pieces of the French Cantal cheese they've become known for.

The Hannahbells, as they call the hors d'oeuvre-sized cheeses they named for their late mother, Hannah, are their take on the French "button de culotte"—literally, "trouser button"—a traditional soft goats' cheese produced in the Mâconnaise region of southern Burgundy. Karl and the brothers' business partner, Barbara Hanley, learned to make the cheese from a group of French women with a herd of Holstein-Ayreshire crosses. They brought back several weeks of practice and a bit of tangy Burgundy mold, and began churning out 10,000 to 13,000 of the bite-sized buttons each week.

While the brothers might be shy, Hanley is not. The "one woman lone ranger," as Shy Brothers salesman Tony Melli calls her, has watched with despair as over sixty percent of Westport's once numerous dairy farms sold to developers over the past thirty years. "Children watched their parents growing up working seven days—literally, seven days a week—and losing money every year," says Melli. "They refused to continue; they had to sell the farmland."

As dairy costs continued to rise and milk prices in town stayed the same, Hanley feared the Santos brothers would be forced to do the same. With three generations of milking in their blood, selling out wouldn't have been an easy decision for any of them. Fortunately, with a few plane tickets and a hearty appetite, Hanley was able to help the Shy Brothers save their herd of 120 Holsteins and the 150-acres of rolling pasture their grandfather purchased in the mid-1940s.

"She said listen," says Melli. "'There's a concept now in marketing known as value-added. Take your milk, and turn it into something special.'" Karl latched onto the idea of cheese, and the brothers settled into the special niche of artisanal finger food—a void southeastern Massachusetts foodies were apparently eager to have filled. The Santos brothers hired Melli as their anything-but-bashful salesman, and he began selling out at farmers' markets across the state.

With online sales booming and plans to double production in the works, the move to cheesemaking has proved a smart one for the brothers. These days, they're working to share what they've learned about both marketing and artisanal production with other dairies in the area, in hopes of saving more land from development and fostering the growth of a local food network.

"If the rest of the farms go, we lose the beautiful opportunity to have fresh food and fresh dairy, and we increase the population another twenty-five percent," says Melli. It's not just the land he sees as important, but also the concept of farming. American democracy, after all, has its roots in the tradition.

This article appeared on the Diary of a Localvore on August 14, 2025