It was nearly dark when I arrived to the historical Zane Grey Estate to see a tribute to Altadena's rural past: a backyard stable full of cheese- and milk-producing goats.

That means its time for the evening milking.

Steve Rudicel, the owner of The Press, a Claremont restaurant and bar, and Gloria Putnam, who works for Kodak, have more pressing responsibilities than their day jobs to think about.

We went down to the fenced-off area where their nine goats are waiting, some to be milked, some to be fed, but all to be greeted and given affection.  It's not an easy group to take care of but Steve and Gloria love it.

"I wouldn't give it up for anything," Gloria said as she prepared to bring Rosie, the matriarch of the group, to be milked.

The rest of the gang are busy swarming around Steve, looking for food and chewing on whatever they can find.  Steve explains that, contrary to their reputation, goats don't like to eat anything they can find.

But they do use their mouths to explore and learn about new things, as is evident by the fact that within a minute of my entering the pen, three goats are busily gnawing on my reporter's notebook.

Steve and Gloria look like seasoned goat-raising professionals, but actually they have had the goats for just under two years.  They got into the idea because they believe in eating local foods and wanted to take things a notch past the farmer's market, home garden and produce exchange.

In that time, they have come a long way.  In September, they won the Los Angeles International Dairy Competition's gold prize for their goat cheese, after Gloria decided to enter the competition on a whim and ended up matching up against big-time craft dairy producers in the state.

Her first clue that she was playing with the big boys came on the application, when they required a dairy name: She quickly came up with the Mariposa Creamery, since their home is on Mariposa Street.

Her second clue was when she called in to the competition's headquarters at the L.A. County Fair and was given instructions for delivering her entry.

"They gave me an address where I could send my driver to," Putnam said.

Their goats are more than just providers of milk and cheese to them though.  Only three of the nine are milked, while the others make their contributions in their entertainment value and their affection for Gloria and Steve.

Some of them are still growing up and are defining themselves as individuals more everyday.  There is "Pippi," named for children's book character Pippi Longstocking because of her sense of adventure.  She's fond of climbing a wood pile in the pen in the backyard.

Then there is "Winter Mix," who is mild-mannered enough that they let her out of the pen to wander onto the porch, and, yes, even into the house occasionally.

She prefers it that way, Gloria says, and it allows her to come in and visit.  Putnam works from home, and Winter Mix is fond of poking into the office every half-hour or so to say hello.

I get my first chance to try fresh, raw goat milk and cheese, the milk still warm.  It tastes rich, almost like coffee. 

The cheese is about the 100 percent opposite of my experience with grocery store goat cheese: It is creamy with a very strong flavor, almost like blue cheese.

Gloria explains that there are many different ways to make a cheese, and what we normally see labeled as goat cheese in grocery stores usually is just one style that is most popular.

They also manage to demonstrate their beliefs in local food as they serve the cheese with apples grown in an Altadena orchard, bread baked by a neighbor, and wild walnuts collected in the hills above Altadena.

Gloria and Steve will be hosting a new farmer's market and exchange this Sunday, which will be a chance for other people to try local foods in the community.

It will also be a chance for people to meet the goats, if they haven't already, though most of Gloria and Steve's neighbors--especially the ones with kids--like to come over and visit.

They usually bring fruit and vegetable and landscaping scraps as a gift for the hungry goats, who have already stripped every bush and tree in the yard that they can reach.

For these reasons, it appears to be a net benefit for neighbors, especially since, unlike urban chicken farmers, Gloria and Steve don't have animals that start making noise before sunrise.

The goats do at least wait until the sun is in the sky before they call for Gloria and Steve to come down to visit.  Maybe not for very long after sunrise though.

"Occasionally they do let us sleep in," Rudicel said.

But only occasionally.