Never mind about sending coals to Newcastle. What about clotted cream to Cornwall? North Yorkshire farmer's wife Sue Gaudie has done it, although her best market is much closer to home – Bettys takes 50-60 per cent of what Sue makes (and 70 per cent of it that is eaten
in York).

Sue's cottage business at Stamfrey Farm is about as cottagey as you can get – starting with a lovely 400 year-old farmhouse in a stunning setting on land that's farmed organically. Husband Angus milks the cows and Sue takes it while it is still warm to turn it into cream twice a day.

It's simple, sustainable and profitable. No wonder Sue laughs a lot. She is a regular at the annual York Festival of Food and Drink, and its director, Michael Hjort,
who also buys the cream for his Melton's restaurant, came along to see what the secret was.

Sue comes from Penzance – she met Angus during a period spent in Canada organised by the Young Farmers – but it took some time and a lot of soul-searching before she re-established the West Country connection.

Angus's father came here in 1964 and they've had a dairy herd from 1970-1. "In 1990 I took over from Dad and I was very fortunate because I was left to get on with it," says Angus. But six years on, the dairy industry was in the mire and the Gaudies had to think hard about the future.

"What we had to do was keep the family on the farm," says Angus. "If we stayed as conventional farmers, we were going to have to go from 100 cows to 180. We'd also have to pay for additional quota and new milking parlour – it was a £500,000 package. At that point the milk price dropped from 25/26 pence per litre to18p.

"For 18 months to two years we looked at things like goats, becoming a farm visitor attraction, or a pet cemetery. We set ourselves the task of looking at one thing a month for a year."

It was a visit to an organic farm that made their minds up. "It was a steep learning curve for someone who just used to send all his milk
down the track in a big tanker," says Angus.

Instead of getting into deeper debt, it meant they were now cash-rich as they sold cows and milk quota, plus they received a conversion payment. But not everyone was happy with the new route.

"Dad found organic very difficult to comprehend, he thought I was putting the whole business at risk. He didn't believe the grass would grow without artificial fertilisers."

Angus shared with his dad agreement on a simple equation – nitrogen equals grass equals milk. It was just a question of where the nitrogen was to come from. "You can get it through clovers," says Angus. "When you are farming organically you are farming clovers, it's a totally natural cycle. It's marvellous."

Their 200 acres became organic in 2001. Another 85 acres within walking distance, which they contract farm, became fully organic last month. You have to prove that 60 per cent of the diet of your cows is forage-based before the milk is certificated as organic – making it worth roughly 8p a litre more than non-organic.

Their supply goes to Dairy Farmers of Britain. "Their consideration for us has been absolutely crucial to us.

"They have been okay about us sending different amounts of milk and because of that, they're allowing us to grow our business."

They have a stocking rate of 1.6 cows per hectare. "Organic is complete commonsense," says Angus. "If you have higher stocking you can't feed your cows. People think it's new and different but it's farming traditionally using new technologies. The thing that is crucial is your soil – a balanced soil produces grass with balanced minerals.

"Muck is the second most important product we produce. We put it on the sileage fields because when we cut the sileage the nutrients are taken off.

"Feeding clover to feed the grass to produce the milk is
a natural cycle without pesticides or nitrates."

They originally had a Friesian herd. When the clotted cream idea came up, Sue was keen on switching to a Jersey herd because their cream takes on a richer colour. But their cows already had a high immunity to disease because of the reduced use of antibiotics. Angus did not want what had been bred into them thrown away.

Foot and mouth in 2001 threatened to overturn everything. It came within 50 yards of the farm but they managed to steer clear. "It started at February half-term and we didn't go beyond the end of the cattle grid until August," says Sue.

That year they looked at Jersey-crosses, breeding through their original cows. They came up with three-way cross between Scandinavian Reds, Jerseys and Holstein Friesians.

The result has been to reduce the size of their animals, more suited to a foraged-based diet.

"This organic thing doesn't suit everyone, it will only work if you want it to work," says Angus. "It's all about caring for your animals and caring for the environment – not that that's something conventional farmers aren't doing. It's just something we've tried that's worked. It's not for me to preach 'this is the answer'. In the end it's quality that matters."

Sue was the ninth generation on her family farm in Penzance and came here in 1992. She brought fond memories of the local delicacy. "You never have single or double cream in the fridge down there, always clotted cream. One of the things
we had was Thunder
and Lightning – white
bread, golden syrup and clotted cream.

"Whenever friends were coming from Cornwall I was always desperate for them to bring me some. Then one friend arrived and I said, 'where's the cream?' He said, 'I've brought you a separator, make your own'. We'd looked at all sorts of things – there was no decent living from the price of milk – and decided to give it a try.

"It's always been said that you can only make clotted cream in the West Country because the grass is sweeter and better. It's all propaganda."

Double cream has 48 per cent fat content, clotted cream must have 55 per cent (in Sue's it's 60 per cent). She makes it at 7.30am and 4.30 pm each day to coincide with the milking because the cream separates more efficiently if it is close to body temperature.

She cooks it over water in the traditional way and evaporation is what gives it a velvety texture.

"A crust forms and because of the sweetness you might think we add sugar but we don't. People say 'you can't have this' but my grandparents lived on it and they lived till they were over 90. I had the advantage of knowing what it should taste like, and at Bettys, a woman said, 'I'm from Devon and I've never tasted better'."

Thunder and Lightning has yet to feature on Michael Hjort's menu. But as someone who led the way in waving the flag for sustainable local produce, he liked what he saw here. "Several things are nice about it," he said. "It's a Yorkshire product and a relatively small-scale production – a family operation. Clotted cream is not traditional to the area but it's a welcome innovation."

They are now milking 113 cows in a herd 120-strong at Stamfrey Farm. Clotted cream uses 30 per cent of the whole milk in the processing. The skim milk goes to Acorn Dairy in Darlington and the Gaudies have started using it in a new line – a runny yoghurt which contains a more politically correct 0.4 per cent fat. But success has brought them to the point of another decision: which way next?

"We're guilty of chasing our tails a bit and don't promote the yogurt as we should," says Angus. "This was low capital outlay and really took off. To expand will be a massive step from here."

But that would mean losing the charm of the cottage business which is their unique selling point.

"The fact that this is made on the farm is quite important to people when you speak to them about it," says Sue. "Angus milks all the cows I make the clotted cream and yogurt. It ticks all the boxes.

"Something like the York Festival of Food and Drink brings us closer to the public. In France everyone knows someone who is a farmer. But over here, people in towns don't seem to have a clue about what we do."