The Best of Autumn Round Up

    When it comes to Fall there few cheeses nearer and dearer to my heart than the following offerings.  Their origins rambling from Italy to Belgium to the U.S.A., you can't take a wrong turn with any of them. Even a meaty, porky Creminelli salami makes it into the mix.  Enjoy Autumn while it lasts.  Soon our golden days of falling leaves and hot apple cider will be replaced with wintry blasts of sleet.  

Creamy, sticky cow's milk Lou Bergier from northern Italy.

Fruity, punchy-piquant Valdeon blue from Spain. 
(A personal favorite)

Porky and silky this basic Casalingo Salami from Creminelli shines on every antipasti board.

Cow's milk Taleggio is pudgy and meaty and all good.  (Also, a close cousin of Lou Bergier.)

The lone American on this list.  Pleasant Ridge Reserve takes inspiration from the high alpine cheeses of Switzerland.

TB&W + Real Food & Health Magazine!

    So I've largely been keeping this bit of news under my hat, as they say.  This Autumn I was contacted by the editor, Heather Lionell, of Real Food and Health magazine to write a pair of articles for their November/December issue.  It was all rather last minute and a bit of a whirlwind so I gave the magazine two of my favorite TB&W posts to publish.  Within the pages of Real Food and Health you can find my thoughts on that most perfect Italian cheese, Taleggio and a favorite recipe for Baked Apple with Blue Cheese.  So head on over to RFH on facebook or, better yet, pick up a subscription on their website.  I promise every issue is packed with great writing and awesome recipes.  Make it an early Christmas gift for yourself.

Cheese in Ireland: A Short Photo Story

    A selection of things I ate (because we all know what my main goal in life is) and the amazing places we went while touring the west of Ireland.

The Board and Wire at Sheridan's Cheesemongers

    I know that when one thinks "cheese" Ireland does not immediately spring to mind.  More likely you'll conjure up the image of a beret topped person tucking into a slice of creamy white Brie in France, or a massive bowl heaped with spaghetti and piled high with fluffy shaved Parmigiano Reggiano in Italy.  These countries are generally what most people think of when it comes to cheese in Europe.  Yes, there are many great cheese making nations (England, Switzerland, Spain, etc.) but my point still stands.  Ireland is vastly underrated when it comes to cheese.  
    Sheridan's Cheesemonger does seem to have quite the focus on Irish farmhouse cheeses.  I was only familiar with a fraction of what they offered in that range.  Sure there was the ever popular Cashel Blue, unctuous washed rind Gubbeen, and crunchy semi-firm Coolea.  Of course what intrigued me the most was the cheese that was completely new to me; Lavistown, Diliskus, and Glebe Brethan to name but a few.  I settled on purchasing a slice of the Glebe Brethan.  It was very alpine in style.  The texture reminding me of a very well aged Gruyere.  The flavors however were much more herbal, earthy, and extremely grassy.  Not quite with the nuttiness and cream of a true Gruyere.  Still I thoroughly enjoyed this cheese (sadly no photos survived my sudden case of blurry pictures).

   Sheridan's also had a well curated core list of quality European cheeses as well (which I mentioned some of in last weeks post). Which brings me to one of the main points of my visit to Sheridan's; raw milk Brie from France.  As an American Cheesemonger there are many types of cheese that I do not have access to due to the laws set down by the F.D.A.  Raw milk Brie, which is made from milk that has not been pasteurized, is illegal for sale in the U.S.A.  By law all cheese made from raw milk must be aged for more than 60 days.  Which is why you'll see some hard as well as blue cheeses made from raw milk in the States.

    Hence raw milk Brie was a sort of a Holy Grail for me.  Well, and for my fellow Cheesemongers, judging by the envious groans when I told them about finally getting to try A.O.C. protected Brie de Meux.  Yes, Brie de Meux is what I spotted in the case at the end of my previous post.  It really was everything I'd hoped for, wished for, dreamed about in finally getting to taste the real deal.  Its texture was silky and slightly fudge-y, turning to a slow, decadent ooze as it warmed up.  Classic flavors of butter, olive oil, herbs, and forest floor were heavy and well balanced.  I have to say not pasteurizing the heck out of milk really, truly makes a difference in the quality and flavor of the cheese.  This was probably one of the best parts of my time in Ireland.  
    Oh, and I may or may not have had tears of joy in my eyes as I reverently scooped spoonful after spoonful of that Brie de Meux onto pieces of warm, crusty bread.  

The Board and Wire Goes to Ireland: Part One

    So to share a bit of personal news 2014 was a big year for me.  Not only did I get married back in April (yay!), he and I got to go on honeymoon to western Ireland (double yay!).  Needless to say it was a trip we had been dreaming about for ages.  We stayed in the quirky, cobblestone paved city of Galway, in County Galway.  Which just so happens to be the birthplace of a dream of a cheese shop, Sheridan's Cheesemongers. Coincidence?  A bit.  I am not ashamed that part of my motivation to honeymoon in Europe was to eat all the fabulous, bloomy-rinded raw milk and Irish farm house cheeses that I could stuff in to my face.  Let me tell you, as you'll see in a later post, I succeeded in my mission.  But I digress.

     Sheridan's.  Packed virtually floor to ceiling with high quality, hand selected, and on occasion house-made cheese, cured meats, jam, chutney, bread, wine, veg, and crackers of all shapes.  Basically everything that makes specialty foods absolutely, well, special.  

    The Galway shop is tucked down a narrow lane that snuggles up to the church yard of the massive (and bejeweled with stained glass) Church of Ireland.  The building Sheridan's occupies is a big stone affair partitioned off into shops, and most likely older than the country I live in.  Its store front is wide and welcoming, trimmed with a deep dignified green and through large sunny windows peep the best of what Sheridan's Cheesemongers has to offer.  Being, cheese.

    I walked into Sheridan's with a mixture of church-like reverence and classic kid-in-a-candy-store exuberance.  My darling husband was on hand with the camera to catch that moment, natch.  As I think any Cheesemonger could understand, one of the best smells in the world is walking into a cheese shop.  That wonderful earthy, damp, pungent (yet clean) scent of several dozen well cared for cheeses occupying the same room just fills me with an almost embarrassing bubbly joy.  
    This is my element.  This is what I know.  This is what I love.  
    Once inside Sheridan's I apparently got tunnel vision when I spotted some long lost "friends" stacked neatly on the counter.  There they were, aged Mimolette and washed rind Morbier.  Just hanging out waiting to be cut to order for somebodies pre-dinner party nosh.  Just like they should be in the States, but alas, the FDA has different ideas about what cheese we should be eating.

    Carefully, slowly, I picked, squeezed, and sniffed my way across the huge mound of cheeses.  Marveling at how they are able to keep all but the freshest of cheeses out of the fridge case.  Also, notable was that all cheese is directly cut to order.  No piles of pre-cut pieces languishing in plastic wrap.  The selection of cheese available was impeccably curated.  The focus being on Irish cheese of all types, mixed with a good core selection of European offerings.  Not only could you find your Cashel Blue there but also your Parmigiano Reggiano or French Comte.  
    After more poking about and several good natured photos snapped by my husband I spotted my personal holy grail of cheese...but more on that next time.

*The photos inside Sheridan's Cheesemongers are all courtesy of Ian Hawkins
*All other photos are works of the author's

Mashed Sweet Potato with Taleggio + Cinnamon

        I promise that this time I actually used a recipe for the dish I made.  And by recipe I mean said recipe was made up by my brain whilst staring at a pudgy slab of Italian Taleggio cheese, eyes glassy with desire, and thinking "yeah, those flavors would be so awesome together."  Completely neglecting the fact that it's likely a flavor combo I've never even encountered.  Yet I forge ahead.  

    Swan diving into undetermined amounts of salt and spice.  Baking, whisking, simmering, broiling my way to something that I hope will be edible.  

    No. 

    Not just edible.  

    I want whatever it is to be that mouthful that makes the eater go blind with temporary joy.  The type of dish that makes the recipient stand up and shout "This! This thing right here!"  Then followed by the silence so peculiar to a meal being thoroughly devoured.

    Right.  

    So I'm not that close to being that good of a chef (or even a real chef at all).  What I can do is whip together a dish (usually cheese centric, natch.) and make it work.  Enough so that the lucky test subject holds out a plate and mumbles, mouth crowded with Gorgonzola sauce and pecans, "More, please."  

    This go around I was caught in a fit of having the right ingredients all at the same time.  It's November.  Which means in Denver it's cold-ish (sort of).  I wanted hot comfort food.  Sunshine and perfect fall temperatures be damned.  What came out of my kitchen was surprisingly fall-like, if a bit on the almost painfully orange side.  

    But, oh, that Italian Taleggio and the cinnamon blended with brown sugar, butter, and warmed cream into the oven roasted sweet potatoes! 

    I had the good insight to toast the cinnamon lightly on a dry, hot pan before putting it in the mix.  Playing up the savory side of cinnamon by really opening its flavor and lending it a gentle roasted quality.  

    The whole dish was balanced between that earthy-sweet of the potato, the egg-y meatiness of Taleggio, and the savory-sweet dance of cinnamon and light brown sugar.  It's a good thing I came up for air.

Mashed Sweet Potato with Taleggio + Cinnamon

 serves 2-4

2 large sweet potatoes

4 oz. Taleggio Cheese

3/4 cup heavy cream

2 Tbs salted butter

1 tsp cinnamon

1 Tbs packed light brown sugar

Salt and pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 350F

(for you high altitude cooks I found 375F worked best)

Wash and pat dry the potatoes.  

With a fork poke a few holes in the skin of each.

Roast in a pan or cookie sheet for approx. 1 hour or until the skin is crispy and insides are soft.

Unwrap the Taleggio.  Trimming away the rind and cutting into small pieces. Set aside a few pieces to top the dish with.

On the stove top heat a dry skillet on medium.  When hot add cinnamon and stir until fragrant about 30 seconds to 1 minute. Turn down heat to medium low.

Add butter, cream, and brown sugar.  Stir until melted and hot but not bubbling. 

Mash potatoes and Taleggio together in a large bowl with a fork or masher until coarse and lumpy.  Slowly, using a hand-mixer to blend, add the hot cream mixture until the potatoes are smooth and fluffy.

Whip in salt to taste and freshly cracked pepper if desired.

Top with remaining pieces of Taleggio

Serve* at once. 

*Preferably at your upcoming Thanksgiving feast!

 

This Cheese Doesn't Suck: Taleggio

    Taleggio is certainly one of autumn's most perfect cheeses.  Perhaps because it is made during the fall season that makes it so.  Contrary to what most people think about cheese making it is not all done during the peak of the growing season.  Sure there's the ideal lush alpine hillside in high summer with happy fat cows grazing on happy fat grasses.  While this certainly does happen it is not the norm for all cheese making.  

    Taleggio is unique in that it is made autumn and winter when the cows are stracche, or "tired".  Meaning that the summer grazing is over and the milk produced has gained more acidity than it had in the high season.  But enough with the science blah blah.  

    This cheese is made of poor first impressions.  Aged for about 40 days and washed weekly with a seawater sponge it gains some, ahem, interesting characteristics.  It develops a strong odorous wiff of feet, brine, molding hay, and dirty animal.  (I know this is hard, but stay with me here.) 

    Thankfully that is just the rind.  What lies beneath the offensive outside is a creamy wonderland of cheese.  Soft, supple, mildly sticky texture that all but becomes a fondue-like texture under the tooth.  Its flavors bursting with clarified butter, roasted almond, egg, over ripe fruit, and its characteristic meatiness.  This is a most magical of cheeses.  

    Be even more daring and melt it open faced on slices of baguette for grilled cheese bliss.

Baked Apple with St. Agour Blue Cheese

 

    Apples.  Honeycrisp, Tango, Gala, Granny Smith, Jonagold.  No matter its name or character apples are the official fruit of Autumn.  The best type having crispy flesh that turns velvety under the tooth, with honeyed sweetness balanced out with a tart snap.   While possibly the most perfect fruit on its own there is nothing that a little cheese can't improve.  

    Let me be the first to tell you that this improvement makes your average solo apple taste like that french fry you found in your backseat last week.  I'll explain.  This Jonagold apple was cored and baked with a fluffy mixture of softened butter, light brown sugar, and...wait for it...triple creme St. Agour blue cheese.  Oh. Yeah. 

    The salty, lactic, yet gentle acidity of the cheese perfectly complements the heady sweetness of the apple.  Blending seamlessly with the toasted, buttery caramel of the brown sugar and butter.  

    As I write this I have slowly been working my way through this a fore mentioned baked fruit (yes, it's my breakfast. don't hate.).  The sheer, almost physically palpable, decadence of it has left me slowly working my way to the bottom of the bowl.  Though once past the spoonable, just barely crisp apple, lies the juices left over from baking.  A caramelized, buttered pool of brown sugar, salt, and cream.  

    Now this is the way to welcome the first day of Autumn.

Baked Apple w/Blue Cheese

serves 1

1 washed and cored baking apple w/skin on

1 Tbs salted butter, softened

2 Tbs light brown sugar, packed

1 Tbs blue cheese, softened and packed

1/2 cup water

Cinnamon for dusting

Preheat oven to 350 F

Blend butter, sugar, and cheese with a spatula in a small bowl until well blend but still lumpy

Pack the mixture lightly into the cavity of the apple

The mixture should mound slightly over the top of the apple

Place into a baking dish and cover with apple lightly with tin foil

add the water to the baking dish

Bake for approx. 20 minutes

Remove tinfoil and add water if needed

Baste often with its own juices

Bake 20 more minutes or until tender under a fork

Carefully (molten sugar burns like napalm) move the apple to a ramekin or bowl 

Spoon over the juices from bottom of the baking dish

Sprinkle with cinnamon and any left over brown sugar

Spoon it into your face and enjoy!

This Cheese Doesn't Suck: Gabriel Coulet Roquefort

    I'm continuing my blue cheese obsession with Gabriel Coulet Roquefort this week.  Ever since the in-famous "Blue Cheese + Coffee" post (of which I could hear a thousand readers cringing) I have been on a serious blue bender (try today's cheese with a cup of Sumatran!).

    Gabriel Coulet is really taking blue to the next level.  Where St. Agour was triple creme and obliging this cheese is a textured kick in the palate.  It hits the tongue with a deceiving sweetness, luring you in with its subtle, giving texture.  That's when the party really starts the sweetness gives way to a smokey, lactic tang, soft fine-sand texture, and finishing with a punch of picant/vegetal bite.

This cheese also boasts a protected designation of origin (AOC).  Which dictates how, what, where, and by whom the cheese can be made.  Everything from how long after lambing the ewes can be milked to what cave the cheese can be aged in is dictated.  Keeping the integrity of all brands of Roquefort intact.  This cheese really doesn't suck. 

{Don't forget! Google reader is going offline on 5/1!  Stay up to date with TBAW via Bloglovin'!}

Mimolette. "Last Chance to See."

    Mimolette.  A wonderfully hard and crusty French cheese that is often compared to those famed well aged Goudas of Holland.  In fact the story goes that a 17th century French King, while at war with Holland, ordered that no more Gouda be imported into France.  He then commanded cheese makers to come up with a cheese that was similar but certainly not Gouda.  What he got was a cannonball shaped (how patriotic) cheese that was about as hard.  Ask any cheesemonger anywhere and they'll tell you what it's like to cut a cold Mimolette.  Which is to say damn near impossible. 

    Personally I have no hyperbole inducing love for Mimolette.  It is a good cheese.  Though I can't say I find myself dreaming about it.  More often I'm craving that Gouda the good French King so abhorred.  But for those who are in love with the stuff they can't get enough of it's caramel tones, flaky texture, and signature earthy/damp cave whiff.  Which brings me to the point of this whole piece.  Mites.  Cheese mites.

    Those tiny creatures that crawl all over the cheese as it is aging in French caves.  Mites munch on microscopic bits of mold that grow on the outside of the young Mimolette.  They burrow into the surface of the cheese its self, carving out warrens of tunnels in search of their fungi food.  In turn the mites allow airflow in and around the cheese letting the other microbes, that are vital to cheese making, do their microbial  thing.  The mites also contribute to the flavor of the cheese.  That earthy/cave damp taste?  Yeah, that was them.   
    These mites are exactly what has the United States Food and Drug Administration (FDA) in an uproar.  Despite zero evidence of the mites causing health problems in anyone (there are people with sensitivities to mites.  However this is from exposure to larger quantities of mites than is found on a Mimolette ready for consumption).  Not to mention spending countless dollars and personnel power on stemming the tide of the estimated one ton of Mimolette that came into New York harbor in March.

    The FDA has ruled that because of mites Mimolette is unfit for human consumption.  Despite having no official standard for how many mites per square inch is acceptable.  The un-official target is 6 mites per square inch.  Sure, during its finishing process the cheese is blasted with compressed air and brushed, but some mites do manage to hang on.  6 mites per square inch is kind of unreasonable.  Hence 2000 pounds of Mimolette are hanging around in limbo in an FDA storage facility in New Jersey.  Inciting outrage from American cheese lovers and frustration from French cheese makers.  I highly recommend that should you find a piece lingering at a cheese counter that you buy it immediately.
    For my part I'm not devastated at the loss of Mimolette.  What I am concerned about is, "what next?"  Next will it be sushi?  Consuming raw or undercooked fish is dangerous.  Will it be all raw milk cheeses, regardless of aging time?  Consuming unpasteurized milk is dangerous.  Will it even be something as benign as sourdough bread?  All those bacteria, fungi, and microbes could be dangerous.  More than I'm concerned about the fate of poor Mimolette, I'm concerned about how far will the FDA go to dictate what we can and cannot eat.
    Mimolette.  It's your "Last Chance to See."

Sneak Peak #4

Parmigiano Reggiano + Honey

    Local Colorado clover honey and The-Real-Deal Parmigiano Reggiano.  This is what love looks like...and tastes like.  I'm ever the sucker for the simplicity of food.  This particular pairing goes along with my "put some honey on it" opinion of cheese.  When lacking any other fancy-pants pairings for impromptu cheese plates honey always comes to the rescue.  Yes, even on Camembert. Yes, I know it's weird.
    All things aside adding honey to Parmigiano really punches up the flavor of both.  the nutty, salty, crunch of the cheese is magnified by the dense, intoxicating, astringent sweetness of the honey. 
   Try this pairing with different types of honey for totally different flavor profiles!  Honey with lavender, orange blossom honey, or honey with chilies, to name but a few. 
Try it out! You won't be sad.

This Cheese Doesn't Suck: Pleasant Ridge Reserve

 

     Apparently the cheeses I'm most fascinated with this Autumn are all from Wisconsin.  Perhaps it's my minor snobbery about cheese that keeps me mystified when Wisconsin produces such amazing artisanal dairy.  Yet, there it is.  I have to say (and I know this is a big endorsement) that Pleasant Ridge Reserve is one of my favorite cheeses.

Continued after the jump...

This Cheese Doesn't Suck: Lou Bergier

I adore Lou Bergier this time of year.  Aged for 60 days it has still been made of good Summer/early Autumn milk.  The cows still have ample time to graze on lush Italian grass and late season flowers.  This cheese smacks of clarified butter, clean animal, and damp loam.

Continued after the jump --->