C.J. Bienert, a native Midwesterner, opened the Cheese Shop of Des Moines in 2011 after a decade of working for others in the cheese world. From his first days at a specialty counter as a 20-year-old, he began imagining a life in cheese. “I thought it was Nirvana,” he says of the deluxe market—since closed—that introduced him to the notion that a person could eat and drink for a living. Managing his own enterprise has eliminated that fantasy, but Bienert hasn’t lost his enthusiasm for the artisan products that so captivated him years ago.
“The entrepreneurial spirit runs in my family,” says Bienert, whose father long operated a coffee shop in Des Moines. The young monger launched his business with a small stand at the city’s farmers' market and then found a permanent location in the same retail center as his dad’s former shop.
Location wisdom: “Have another food establishment next to you as a draw,” suggests Bienert, “but don’t step on their toes. I had a good co-merchant in a bakery, but I was planning to serve sandwiches and the bakery served sandwiches.” Bienert visited the baker and asked to use his bread in the shop’s sandwiches, which erased any objections the baker had to his competitor.
Cheese selection and display: “We’re over 60 percent American artisan and 100 percent cut-to-order,” says Beinert. “Like everybody, we segregate our blues, stack our block Cheddars, and put the mold-ripened cheeses together. The case is organized by how you would build a cheese plate, so you can walk someone from soft cheese to blue cheese.
“That being said, we do move things around. If something’s not selling, it’s probably because it’s hard for the mongers to reach. If we move it out of the corner, it sells better. That’s the black art of marketing.”
Signage style: “For a while, it was trendy to write big funny signs, but customers were taking forever to read them,” recalls Bienert. “All people really want to know is the name, milk type, where it’s from, a quick descriptor, and the price. When we first opened, I did ‘flavor numbers’—a scale with 1 being mild and 10 being strong. But it was subjective and depended on whoever was doing the signs. We got rid of that and streamlined the signage, and it looks nicer.”
Sampling philosophy: “We sample really aggressively,” says Bienert. “‘Out of the case and in the face.’ I was taught early on that when you hand something to someone, they buy it nine out of ten times. We write off 10 percent for sampling and shrink, but we don’t throw out a lot of cheese.” The shop has 26 seats and a cheese board and sandwich menu that can absorb items that need to move. “If we think we’re long on something, we put it on boards and sample it to everybody,” says the monger. “We can move eight cases of (Nettle Meadow) Kunik in two days. It just takes a quick, focused huddle.
“It’s equally important for the staff to sample,” says Beinert. “They sample everything.” He once got a call from a concerned customer saying, “I just had to let you know your boys are stealing.” The client had watched employees eating cheese and, he reported with dismay, even pouring themselves wine. “That was their pre-shift,” laughs Bienert. “They had to try the cheeses on the cheese plate and the wine poured by the glass.”
Grocery trends: “The biggest growing area—and it’s from TikTok, I guess—is conservas. A lot of high-school kids are eating sardines. We sell so much tinned stuff: codfish liver, octopus in dill sauce, mussels. It’s probably 30 percent of our grocery business. When we first opened, we always had Matiz sardines. Those were my favorite—I even served them at my wedding—but no one ever bought them. We had three SKUs (of conservas), now we have fifty. The lesson is, if you’re ahead of your time, don’t give up.
“When sourcing grocery, we look regional,” says the monger. “It has to be delicious, but then we look for whatever’s closest.” Fig and Black Tea Preserves from Quince & Apple is an especially strong seller. New grocery products are often featured on the shop’s cheese boards to introduce the items and generate demand.
Equipment theory: “A coffin case is where cheese goes to die,” says Bienert. He selected instead a 12-foot glass-enclosed deli service case. Other lessons from the equipment minefield: “Don’t buy used equipment,” he advises. “There’s a reason somebody was selling it.” Equipment has a lifespan, says the monger. Research the expected longevity of what you’re buying and be prepared for the “5- to 10-year cooler” to fail before that.
Minor regrets: “I would have gone bigger,” says the monger, although he acknowledges that he struggled to raise opening funds even for his small shop. The venue has only 500 square feet of retail space, plus a large basement that attracted him for low-cost storage. The two-floor layout is hard on employees who have to haul every 80-pound wheel of Comté up and down stairs, but the space is well utilized. “I put in a low-velocity walk-in, like a florist would have,” says Bienert. “It’s the perfect environment for cheese and I’m happy it’s in the basement.”
Heartland challenges: “Everyone’s very skeptical here,” says Bienert. “If I hand somebody a bottle of Château Rayas and say they should try it, they say, ‘If it’s so great, how come it’s in Des Moines?’ People in the Midwest expect to be disappointed.
“Early on there was a lot of pushback. People returned cheese because it smelled. One customer had the cheese in, like, eight Ziplock baggies. He said, ‘I hate to do this, but this cheese is bad.’ It was a Camembert. It was supposed to smell like that. But we have zero of that (pushback) today.”
Bright idea: A monthly cheese club with a designated pickup day. (Customers can have the cheese delivered for an additional fee.) “Club pickup day is like a wine release party,” says Bienert. “It’s like a clubhouse. We choose cheeses you wouldn’t find other places or that we don’t typically have. Most people who get it as a gift will stay in for at least another three to six months.”
Customer favorites: “Old Chatham Creamery Three Milk Gouda. It is so good, and priced well. Everyone likes it. Blakesville Creamery’s cheeses are so consistent. Her rinds are perfect. People are buying, like, two a week. We can’t keep Alemar Apricity in stock. It reminds me of La Tur and it’s from just up the road. We unwrap them and display them in a wooden crate on straw matting. When it’s displayed like that, it disappears.”
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