When it comes to cheesemaking, the culinary exchange between Europe and America is especially noticeable. French cheeses, including Pouligny Saint Pierre and Sainte-Maure de Tourain, have influenced the style and taste of American cheeses, like Mont Vivant and Pipe Dreams ashed log. In addition to France, American cheesemakers, such as Charuth Loth from Farmstead First, look to other countries, like Holland and Italy. And, those looking for the American take on Welsh cheeses should look no further than Landaff, a raw cow's milk cheese inspired by Caerphilly, a cheese from Wales.
The reason for the Welsh influence is far from arbitrary. "The soils and rolling hills in Landaff, N.H., are similar to the terrain in the Cardiff area of Wales," says Deb Erb co-owner with husband Doug of Landaff Creamery. As with other cheeses, like Rogue River Blue, the taste of Landaff is affected by the soil on which the cows graze. Also, it just so happens that Landaff comes from Landaff, N.H. (hence, its name), which was originally named after the Bishop of Landaff, Wales, cleric to England's King George III. In short, this transatlantic influence can be attributed to history and similarities in soil.
While affinage -- the process of aging cheeses -- is common in Parisian cheese shops, it's a striking novelty here in the U.S. So it makes sense that cheese shops like Artisanal and Murray's would reach out to our French cousins, fromagerieslike Alléosse, to perfect this age-old craft. Recently, we discovered beautifully aged cheeses, notably Pearl and Pipe Dreams Demi, from Saxelby Cheesemongers on the Lower East Side of Manhattan.
Like Voltaire, the 18th-century French philosopherwho compared the intellectual work of assembling the Encyclopédie to cultivating a garden, Anne Saxelby also compares affinageto tending a garden: "I check up on them [the aging goat's milk cheeses] every half hour, moving stuff around and turning the cheeses," says Saxelby, who has been aging cheeses now for about two years.
We decided to try an un-aged Pipe Dreams Demi next to one that's been aged a week and a half to taste the difference (visually, they're extremely apparent – see the photo above). Upon cutting into the younger one (on the left), the paste tends to run from under the beautifully developed bloomy rind. The taste was surprisingly pungent and aggressively remained on the palate for several minutes. On the contrary, the aged Pipe Dreams Demi seemed like an ideal redistribution of the younger one's tanginess. The spicy taste, reminiscent of walnuts and similar to an aged Pouligny Saint Pierre, came in nearly perfectly measured successions.
Robiola di Capra al Fico. Photo: Formaggio Kitchen.
Many cheeses, like St Pat and Hoja Santa, are covered in leaves to add a distinct herbal, sometimes earthy, taste. Wrapping cheese in leaves may seem gimmicky, but it can actually serve an essential role in developing the cheese's flavor. For instance, Robiola di Capra al Fico is a fresh Italian goat's milk cheese wrapped in fig leaves and exuding a citrus aroma.
The amount of time the cheese is aged in the leaves triggers the growth of certain molds and flavors. Coming from the Burrati family in Verbania, Italy, this incredibly milky tasting Robiola is not aged long enough for the fig leaves to create too pungent or too tart of a flavor. Instead, these bright-green leaves establish a mild acidity that beautifully balances the overwhelming creamy flavor and texture of the cheese.
Unlike a book not to be judged by its cover, you can always judge a cheese by its rind. Manchester, a raw goat's milk cheese from Consider Bardwell Farm in West Pawlet, Vt., has a stunning rustic rind (that must be eaten!) with ridges and brownish-yellow molds. In the U.S., we tend to associate mold with spoiled food; however, when it comes to artisanal cheese -- especially Manchester -- this association is just plain wrong.
The clay-like appearance of Manchester's ridges (which comes from the use of Italian cheese-basket molds) cannot be separated from the cheese's smooth, sweet aromatic flavor, which makes it comparable to a French Tomme de Savoie. In fact, it's the bacteria and mold around the cheese that contribute to this deliciously well-balanced masterpiece. Just eight weeks into the aging process, Manchester's rind already develops spots of red mold on what Peter Dixon, dairy foods consultant and cheesemaker at Consider Bardwell Farm, calls a "wild rind."
By "wild," does Dixon mean to say that the molds and the bacteria grow naturally out of nowhere? Well, yes and no. After making Manchester, Dixon uses a soft brush dipped in whey to wash the rind. "Whatever microbes like that [whey] will grow," says Dixon. "We make the cheese, and then create the look by turning the cheese and rubbing it a couple of times a week."
Of course, I'm not talking about the four-leaf kind, though that type's pretty rare, too. No, I mean the Clover coffee maker, a high-tech gadget that dropped jaws all over bean circles a few years ago, with its deeply sophisticated, digital one-cup-at-a-time brewing (not to mention the $11K price tag).
At first, the machines were the pride of the serious coffee lover, with independent cafés snapping them up as a way of showcasing artisanal coffees one by one, instead of losing them to the murky depths of an insulated thermos. But when Starbucks bought the Clover technology last year, the funky-looking little metal boxes were suddenly less and less available to your average café owner, becoming proprietary to the green mermaid.
So why is this lucky? Because it started a revolution. Or, more accurately, a renaissance. Read more about getting lucky with cup-at-a-time coffee after the jump.
Unlike some goat's milk cheeses that have a pronounced grassy tang (that for some is unpleasant), Coupole has a mild vegetal taste that is sure to delight all palates. The chewy, dense, creamy texture of Coupole slowly dissolves on the back of the tongue, giving way to a subtle, sweet, yeasty flavor.
In fact, those interested in a beginner's goat cheese should look no further. Coupole is the perfect cheese to educate the less experienced palate on the grassy acidity of goat's milk. And, those who simply appreciate a well-made cheese will certainly be impressed by the well-balanced taste reminiscent of a "chicken-y risotto," according to Liz Thorpe, author of "The Cheese Chronicles" and vice president of Murray's.
Its taste may be atypically mild compared to other delicious goat's milk cheeses, like the ash-coated log from Pipe Dreams Farm, but its size and shape are definitely characteristic of a chèvre, such as Crottin de Chavignol -- a cylindrical dome. Indeed, Coupole's name translates from French to "cupola" or "dome."
After spending months tasting mostly French cheeses, it's hard not to compare our diverse American cheeses to their European counterparts, especially Adelle from Ancient Heritage Dairy in Scio, Oregon. A taste of Adelle is like taking a bite of a phenomenally aged French goat's-milk cheese with an oozy texture and a flavor reminiscent of hazelnuts. What's remarkable about Adelle is that, despite this similarity, it's not a goat's-milk cheese.
In contrast to a French goat's-milk cheese like Pouligny Saint Pierre, Adelle's complex taste can be attributed to a combination of milks – that of East Friesian sheep and of Ayrshire Cows. While its rich taste and creamy consistency come from cow's milk, its meaty pungency and finish come from the addition of sheep's milk. Anne Saxelby, owner of Saxelby Cheesemongers, refers to mixed milk cheese as an "American innovation."
The reason for this American technique of mixing milk from different animals has to do with the seasonality of certain milks. For instance, sheep usually stop milking in October. "We could not afford to stop producing cheeses from October until the spring," says Kathy Obringer, co-owner of Ancient Heritage Dairy (with husband Paul). "So, one season, we used the cow's milk from a neighbor in exchange for cheese lessons, and we mixed it with our frozen sheep's milk."
This summer Slashfood blogger Max Shrem is apprenticing at renowned Paris cheese shop Fromagerie Trotté. In ''Le Cheese Course,'' Max will share his impressions and opinions of French cheese à la francaise!
For those who enjoy the creamy supple texture of Brie and the nutty earthy taste of Salers, Saint-Nectaire is a must-try. Coming from the Auvergne, the same region of France as Salers, it combines the best of both cheeses, but the experience of eating it is like savoring a particularly rich smooth peanut butter and drinking a glass of rich, flavorful raw cow's milk.
This cow's-milk cheese is made from the milk of the renowned Salers cows that graze at an altitude of 3,000 feet. Similar to the cheese Salers, the rich soil consists of volcanic ash (hence, lots of minerals) and imparts a distinct flavor on Saint-Nectaire.
However, unlike Salers, Saint-Nectaire has an unctuous consistency, similar to Brie, and a one-of-a-kind exquisite light-brown-grayish rind with, at times, white, yellow and red molds. It can have either a washed rind or a natural rind. The different molds, intentionally brought out by the affineur, create the cheese's distinct rustic appearance and earthy floral taste. As far back as the Middle Ages, cheesemakers have been aging Saint-Nectaire on rye mats in tunnels and caves that run through the Auvergne.
This summer Slashfood blogger Max Shrem is apprenticing at renowned Paris cheese shop Fromagerie Trotté. In 'Le Cheese Course,' Max will share his impressions and opinions of French cheese à la francaise!
For many Americans, French cheese is synonymous with Brie. In the United States, wheels of it can be found at both high-end grocery stores and large supermarkets. However, neither place sells the two primary types of Brie sold at Parisian cheese shops -- Brie de Meaux and Brie de Melun, which are much more decadent renditions of the drippy cow's milk cheese.
Stateside, raw-milk cheeses must be aged for at least 60 days before being sold. By the 60th day, both of the two Bries mentioned above are too ripe and in no state to be exported across the Atlantic to be sold. For this reason, much of the Brie found at American cheese shops is pasteurized, industrial, and, quite frankly, a poor representative of this French cheese celebrity that is Brie.
So, if you're in France, what kind of Brie should you look for and what's the difference between the two types?
Hey, wait a sec! Are you really about to dump out the rest of the too-big coffee you ordered this morning, drank a third of, forgot about and let get lukewarm? Come on, pal -- you think this stuff grows on trees?
Well, actually, it kind of does -- except they're more like bushes. And the beans that we enjoy roasted, ground and percolated in the morning are actually seeds, not beans: They're more like a cherry pit than any legume you put in your famous Super Bowl Sunday chili. And much like every other fresh fruit or vegetable we enjoy, the beauty and deliciousness of a coffee is fleeting, seasonal and really labor intensive.
Read more about coffee's journey from seed to cup after the jump.
This summer Slashfood blogger Max Shrem is apprenticing at renowned Paris cheese shop Fromagerie Trotté. In 'Le Cheese Course,' Max will share his impressions and opinions of French cheese à la francaise!
When it comes to firm sheep's milk cheeses, most Americans are more or less familiar with Italian Pecorinos, like Pecorino Romano, and, of course, the renowned Spanish Manchego. But, in the Ossau valley in the French Pyrenees, cheesemakers also craft unique sheep's milk cheeses, like the famed Ossau-Iraty, and the less known Abbaye de Belloc.
These cheeses stand out due to their particularly sweet delicate flavor and firm, creamy texture that gradually melts on the palate. Among them, Abbaye de Belloc remains a gastronomic gem with its exceptionally well-balanced, smooth, unctuous texture, a result of the milk of the red-nosed Manech ewes (not to be confused with Santa's red-nosed reindeer, Rudolph).
"The best way to appreciate this kind of consistency is to eat a very thin slice," says Fromagerie Trotté's Jean-Philippe Trotte in Paris. "The thinner the slice, the better you'll take in the very sain [French for uncontaminated, healthy and wholesome] taste of the cheese's milk."
This summer Slashfood blogger Max Shrem is apprenticing at renowned Paris cheese shop Fromagerie Trotté. In 'Le Cheese Course,' Max will share his impressions and opinions of French cheese à la francaise!
In the United States, Roquefort -- which has undergone quite the yearin the press -- most frequently winds up in salads. Stateside cheese shops usually carry just one or two varieties.
In Paris, however, the stinky blue fromage is a staple; it's nearly impossible not to find several varieties at local supermarkets and an abundance at the fromageries, where varieties range from mildly spicy and sweet to pungent and creamy.
Three main factors cause this: the specific culture of Penicillium roqueforti (the fungus used to create the blue veins in the cheese) used; the types of caves and the quantity made. There's a bit of mystique, too: "What distinguishes one strain of Penicillium roqueforti from another one is part of the cheesemaker's secret," says Mme. Barthélémy, fromagère at Paris's Barthélémy cheese shop, which sells a to-die-for artisanal Roquefort.
This summer Slashfood blogger Max Shrem is apprenticing at renowned Paris cheese shop Fromagerie Trotté. In 'Le Cheese Course,' Max will share his impressions and opinions of French cheese à la francaise!
Those interested in the aesthetics of chèvres that come in striking shapes and sizes will certainly be seduced by Pouligny Saint Pierre, a classic French goat's milk cheese shaped like a pyramid. Hailing from the region of Berry, close to the renowned châteaux of the Loire valley, this cheese has a distinctive floral aroma and grassy, nutty taste.
When it comes to French goat's milk cheeses like Pouligny Saint Pierre (and many others like Valençay) there are key differences in flavor and texture between ones imported to the United States and those eaten in France. In the United States, Pouligny Saint Pierre is sold fresh and has almost no rind, giving it a mild, fresh taste and cakey yet creamy texture. In France, however, because the cheese is made with raw milk and is aged to various degrees by affineurs, it comes in many more varieties.
This summer Slashfood blogger Max Shrem is apprenticing at renowned Paris cheese shop Fromagerie Trotté. For the next two months, in 'Le Cheese Course,' Max will share his impressions and opinions of French cheese à la francaise!
Like drinking wine, tasting French cheese is like going on an exciting journey through different terroirs: The diet of the nation's goats, cows and sheep thoroughly permeates the cheese itself. About a year ago, we wrote about the history and production of Salers, a hard cheese with a cheddar-like texture and meaty, mineral-like flavor. Recently, we discovered a specific wheel of Salers aged by affineur André Bruel that was so intensely meaty we felt compelled to revisit the fromage's intriguing flavor.
Bruel's affinage powerfully highlights the rich flora of the Auvergne in southwestern France, where Salers hails from. Aging Salers in the region's renowned Duroux tunnels, he produces a cheese with a more complicated array of flavors -- from eggy and meaty to fruity and vegetal -- than traditional Salers.
This summer Slashfood blogger Max Shrem is apprenticing at renowned Paris cheese shop Fromagerie Trotté. For the next two months, in 'Le Cheese Course,' Max will share his impressions and opinions of French cheese à la francaise!
This odd-looking fromage is oh-so-French (and, in fact, available solely in that country). Those planning a trip there would be wise to look up the delicious Fontainebleau, which is here pictured with the net that covers it when it is sold.
France has many varieties of creamy cheese, from crème fraîche and fromage blanc to petit-suisse and Chantilly. Combining characteristics of all four mentioned above, Fontainebleau, which must be eaten the day it's put out for sale, is especially worth trying for a rich, sweet taste and fluffy, light texture that's similar to whipped cream.
It's so light, in fact, it requires strange packaging. "The reason for the cloth is to protect the very light structure and to maintain the freshness," says Thomas Le Goff, cheesemonger at fromagerie Marie-Anne Cantin.
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