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.  

This Cheese Doesn't Suck: Meule de Savoie

    Today is all about another French cheese, the raw cow's milk Meule de Savoie by Herve Mons.  Meaning (also literally) "Windmill of Savoie", it is made high up in mountainous Savoie in the Rhone-Alpes region.  I have to say one of the many things I love about French cheese is that delightful, conversational way they name their cheeses.  Not content to name cheese simply after where they're made, oh no.  

    This cheese has all the great hallmarks of a good alpine style.  Creamy uniform paste, pale almond color, thick woodsy natural rind, and made in wheels the size of a coffee table.  Granted by the time we receive them at the shop the Meule has been cut down for us into a more manageable wedge (I know, I know, losing serious cred for receiving a pre-cut wheel).  

    The Board and Wire has already discussed some of the magic of Meule de Savoie in an earlier post in which I concocted a fabulous grilled cheese with it and various "leavin's" in my fridge.  Which shows that if you have a lump of some delicious cheese you can probably make just about anything from stuff hanging about near your crisper.  This time Meule de Savoie is just shining away, all on its own, on my cheese board today.  It's almost meditative to break out a single piece of cheese, let it come to room temperature, and slowly, carefully taste it.  Catching all of its flavor profiles and intricacies of texture. 

    The Meule, like I said above, already has the visual earmarks of an alpine cheese.  It does not disappoint once it goes in your face.  The flavor is subtle, but punchy, with that high singing acidity reminiscent of a young Gruyere.  Compound butter, raw hazelnut, and a good dose of toasted hay round out the palate.  The texture has a classically creamy, toothsome grit to it.  Very much what I would expect from a lightly aged high mountain cheese.  Meule de Savoie really is ideal for slapping onto a Raclette grill and greedily scraping off ribbons of molten cheese onto new potatoes.  Pair this all up with a great I.P.A. or go nuts and try it with Gewurztraminer.  

     

This Cheese Doesn't Suck: Pave du Nord

    Pave du Nord is a little known cheese from the north of France.  Translating literally to "Paving Stone of the North", Pave du Nord is formally a working man's cheese.  The texture of this raw cow's milk cheese is most commonly hard, crisp, and flaky.  Quite like the famous aged Goudas of Holland or its fellow countryman, Mimolette.  In fact the most common comparison made to the characteristics of Pave du Nord is to Mimolette.  

    It's firm texture playing up flavors of dry earthy cave, minerals, and brown butter.  However my most recent encounter with Pave du Nord completely rocked everything I know about the cheese.  See, I've only every encountered it in all of it's uber aged glory (see above descriptions).  

    This time when we broke into our first loaf of the year, eyes glistening in anticipation, cheese knives poised and all that, we were shocked (shocked I tell you!) to find a supple, yielding, springy cheese.  What kind of chicanery was this? It was clearly Pave du Nord, alright.  But, well, a rather young loaf it seemed.  Never the less we dug in and all eye brows shot right past our hairlines.  

    "Baby" Pave du Nord was seriously excellent!  That supple paste went straight to cream under the tooth.  New bright, light butter flavors shone through right away and were quickly balanced out by that familiar mineral punch.  Also new were the vegetal green pepper and dry legume notes that came wafting in with the rest.  To wrap up the decidedly complex cheese was a delightful astringency that seemed to clear away any heaviness of flavor that lingered behind.  If you ever get your hands on young Pave du Nord pair it up with a good Sauvignon Blanc or a well balanced Petite Syrah.  Dang.

Grilled Cheese with Meule de Savoie, Roast Potato, + Bacon

    I'll just get this off my chest.  It's.  Cold.  As in really, really cold by Denver standards.  As I write this the outdoors gets to enjoy one single balmy degree on the Fahrenheit scale (that's -18C to the rest of the rational world).  
    My only solution to ever feeling warm on the inside ever again is to make something with hot melted cheese.  But really, isn't that everyone's solution?  What I present to you is a glorious sandwich of the refined French alpine-style cheese, Meule de Savoie, and stuff I scrounged in my fridge.  

    What happened was a layering of cheese onto sour dough with leftover thin sliced roast potatoes (from yesterdays dinner), and the last two pieces of apple wood smoked bacon.

  The crispy gooey result was the subtle mineral-y, earth, and astringent cream flavors of the cheese blending nicely with the salty smoke of bacon and potato.  
    So put some of this in your face and feel warmer.  I hear this winter thing keeps on being cold... 

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. 

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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."