Cabra Romero, Because the World Needs More Lard

First and foremost let us rejoice! Today is the first Saturday of the cheese-a-day marathon, meaning I'm arbitrarily starting a tradition of posting goat cheeses every Saturday! I understand starting new traditions is textbook power-going-to-head behavior, but I love goat cheese, I've got more goat cheeses on file than anything else, and these reviews aren't going to post themselves. Submit your ideas of what goat cheese Saturdays should be called in the comment section and I'll choose whichever one strikes my fancy. Maybe there's a prize involved. Like a video-singing-telegram. From me. 

Murcia must have some of the tastiest meadows around because this plucky region of Spain just keeps the cheese hits coming. Cabra Romero is an aged but very moist goat cheese created by a one Lorenzo, who ages this treat for 2-4 months, uses microbial rennet and, oh yeah, covers the rind in lard and then presses each wheel in Rosemary before shipping. 

Origin: Murcia, Spain
Milk: Goat, pasteurized
Rennet: Microbial (vegetarian)
Affinage: 2-4 months
Notes: One of the more sickly satisfying jobs at the Cheese Importers was brushing (prying really) the lard and rosemary mixture off of the rind before giving it out as samples or on cheese platters. You know no one's compromising on flavor when lard is employed.
Thoughts:  This fruity and herbal goat cheese has as intriguing and complex a flavor as only a cheese rubbed in lard could. I mean that in the best possible way. The grassy, fruity essence of the rosemary comes across strong at first but the goat's milk flavor quickly builds into a perfectly sweet and creamy delight. The rich savoriness of the lard is clearly present and carries throughout the taste but does not overcome the complex flavors that develop over it. This cheese is one of the few aged, semi-hard cheeses that I prefer to eat on slices of baguette, as it seriously is so buttery in flavor that you'll want to try to spread it. A bold flavor backed up by an equally bold texture and a near-reckless devotion to gastronomic indulgence earns this cheese a spot in my top 5.

Caution
If no one submits name suggestions then everyone gets singing video telegrams.

Explorateur, it's Out Of This World!

The year was 1958 and the space race, launched the year before by the Russian Sputnik Satellite program, was already heating up. The American government was furiously working on the Explorer satellite program, the American people were building bomb shelters, the Russians were learning Spanish and working on their swimsuit tans, and somewhere in France a cheesemaker had the inspiration to capture the moment as only he knew how; he created an epic cheese. 

Explorateur, named either for the American space program or the space race itself depending on which side of the Atlantic you wake up on, was one of the first cheeses to be made under the "triple crème" designation. It earns this decadent title when full cream is added to the milk before the curdling process, the end result being a cheese with 70% or higher butterfat content per solid mass. The "per solid mass" bit is important as a lot of what makes up bries, even these triple crème or dessert bries, is whey, the watery product left behind when milk curdles. This means that what you're eating isn't actually 70% butterfat, but to be honest it tastes so good you probably wouldn't care even if it was.

Origin: Isle de France, France
Milk: Cow, pasteurized
Rennet: Animal
Affinage: 4-6 weeks
Notes: 70% butterfat wasn't enough, so they turned it to eleven and made Explorateur 75% butterfat. Forget about counting calories. Make your peace with God and dive in. 
Thoughts: The particular variety that I bought was on the aged side of its short life, but considering all of the soft French cheeses have to make that Atlantic crossing and then clear customs, I'll take what I can get. The good news is that, being a surface ripened cheese, Explorateur just continues to ripen right up until you cut into it, meaning mine was bursting with flavor when I brought it home. 75% butterfat translates roughly into the texture of ultra-dense cream cheese, but instead of a heavy and simple spread Explorateur delivers an experience that redefines decadent. The paste is milkier and sweeter than fresh goat cheese and just melts on the palate, simultaneously rich but airy. What sets this apart from the other dessert bries is how the flavor develops, and here I am thankful that I bought an older cheese. The nutty, mushroomy goodness that is so desirable in standard bries comes from out of nowhere and dominates the flavor briefly before the sweetness of the cream takes over again and persists into the aftertaste. The rind, a delicate blanket of scrumptious white mold, delivers an additional tangy kick in its old age but would be considerably tamer in the first weeks of the cheese's life. The key with pairing these (seriously) heavy hitters is cutting through the cream with champagne and some fresh fruit. Alternatively just call in sick from life and take a bath in the stuff. 


Caution
Bathing in cheese would be disgusting.

Disgustingly expensive. Just imagine how much wine you'd have to buy, and then you'd need a small produce section worth of fresh fruit, a half dozen baugettes, a gallon of fruit preserve, I mean we're looking at 4 figures easy. Try to get a deal on the baguettes.

Jarlsberg, Norway's Famous Swiss Cheese

In a perfect world, cheesemaking would be allowed to remain as a pure art; unencumbered by economic restraints and beyond the influence of opportunism. Independent cheese production would lead to the rise of new, occasionally delicious, varieties of cheese and at the end of they day everyone would go home happy, at least everyone who really likes cheese. If you're not among that number, you may have come to this blog in error.
In reality, history holds loads of examples of cheese-copying. These range from the early European settlers of America innocently bringing with them their Cheddars and so forth to the French copying Dutch Edam and adding annatto to make Mimolette when the tariffs under Colbertism made its import prohibitively expensive. Fortunately for cheese lovers Mimolette is actually delightful, but this post is about a less inspiring example of cheese-plagiarism. 
Go to your local deli, ask for a slice of "Swiss" cheese, and the stout yeoman behind the counter will shave from a log a piece of pale, tart, possibly even nutty cheese with a generous spread of holes throughout. While no one actually thinks that the cold cuts on their last 5 dollar footlong were painstakingly imported from Switzerland, many are understandably surprised to hear that what they think to be "Swiss" cheese and cheese that actually comes from Switzerland are two very different things. Still, although the spongy and one-dimensional Swiss-style cheeses are mere shadows of their proud high-alpine ancestors, these copies are massively popular.
No one knows that better than Professor Ole M. Ystgaard, the man who created Jarlsberg. A result of "research" on the cheeses popular in Norway circa 1950, the good professor created Jarlsberg by mating his findings with the streamlined production techniques afforded by modern technology. The company's website boldly claims that, on the fateful day that the first wheel came off the production line, "a new cheese category was established". Rubbish.

Origin: Norway
Milk: Cow, pasteurized
Rennet: Animal
Affinage: One year
Notes: Spends its days dulling people's tastebuds, its nights plotting how to bully small-production cheeses off of supermarket shelves, and secretly dreams about one day traveling to Switzerland to find its roots.
Thoughts: The astute reader will have already surmised that I am not impressed by this cheese, but really there are two ways to look at it. It is a cheese designed in a laboratory, based on pre-existing Swiss and Swiss-style cheeses, and intentionally created to appeal to the widest possible audience. In this regard it is hugely successful, as it sells worldwide like umbrellas in a rainstorm and has no doubt made Professor Ystgaard a very rich man. The trade-off here is that, just like Disney's never-ending string of cash-cow tweeny pop stars, Ystgaard has created a soulless monstrosity.
Flavor-related Thoughts: The texture is springy and waxy, the paste tart and only mildly nuttier than your average deli Swiss. Actually mild would be a compliment to this cheese, really the flavor is just forgettable. The pasteurization process leaves a harsh "scalded" flavor and, overall, Jarlsberg is no different if not worse than the slew of mild semi-firm snacking cheeses available on the market.When there are cheeses like yesterday's Tetilla available on the high end and decent generic young Goudas and Cheddars on the economy end, there just isn't a real reason to go for Jarlsberg. It presents itself as being at home on sandwich and cheese platter alike, but its one-dimensional flavor and unpleasant texture mean it doesn't get an invite to the cheese party. Also, do yourself a favor and treat the "Jarlsberg Lite" fat-reduced version like the Matrix sequels: pretend it doesn't exist. 



Caution
As of today no one from France has read this blog. If you direct a Frenchman (Frenchwoman, Frenchperson) to this blog I would thank you, except they probably wouldn't like my Edam/Mimolette connection. 
I don't want to be killed in a duel.

Tetilla, a Professional and Mature Review

Spain may be best know for its savory sheep's milk cheeses, but somewhere in its 500,000sq km there is a cow. Maybe even two. Probably two.
These two cows live in Galicia, the autonomous region in Northwest Spain that sits perched atop Portugal and produces more cow's milk than anywhere else in Spain, likely due to the luscious green meadows and its having the only cows in the country. Home to it's own language, 2.8 million inhabitants and, of course, our two cows, Galicia holds one other distinction above all else; it is the sole producer of Spain's area-controlled Tetilla. The name translates into "nipple" due to the cheese's flattened pear-like shape, a result of the traditional mold into which the curds are packed.

Origin: Galicia, Spain
Milk: Cow, pasteurized
Rennet: Animal
Affinage: Up to one month
Notes: Scalded in hot salt water to produce a quick, clean rind. Comes in various sizes, ranging from 1.5-3lbs.
Thoughts: Clearly I did not buy a whole cone, simply because 1.5lbs of cheese is a lot even for me. If (when) I were to purchase in such bulk it would likely not be this cheese because, while there's certainly nothing wrong with it, there isn't anything too exciting about it either. The texture varies from firm but springy on the exterior to nearly spreadable at the center, but the flavor is relatively constant throughout. Light, airy even, this cheese has a pleasantly milky and mildly fruity paste that melts on the tongue and gives way to a lingering sweet aftertaste. The textures and the simple combination of flavors work well together and make for a good example of cheese that is mild without being forgettable. It is a good snacking cheese and could be compared to mild Cheddars in terms of intensity. Next time you want to kick it Galician style simply speak a Western Ibero-Romance branch language, celebrate the concept of regional autonomy within a federal system, and melt some Tetilla over a slice of rasin-nut bread. Just watch out for that lateral consonant shift.

Caution
If those last two sentences make sense to you, you may be a linguistics or poli-sci nerd. 

Cashel Blue, The Dropkick Murphys of Blue Cheese

The main differences being that the Dropkick Murphys are musicians and Cashel Irish Blue is, well, from Ireland. Beyond that Cashel Blue actually has quite a few things in common with everyone's favorite Irish-American punk band; it is a gritty, unrefined, and generally bold cheese that, despite all this, always seems to be in season.

Origin: Tipperary, Ireland
Milk: Cow, pasteurized
Rennet: Vegetarian friendly
Affinage: 6-12 weeks
Notes: Uses the same Penicillium roqueforti strain of mold that's found in France's Roquefort and a previous star of our show, Rouge River Blue. Husband and wife team Jane and Louis Grubb have been making this cheese since 1984 in response to the lack of artisinal Irish blue cheeses, and though Cashel Blue is now shipped across the globe in ever increasing quantities, production remains in the hands of the family and their team. Say it with me now; "d'awwww".
Thoughts: The sample that I came home with was on the more aged side of its lifespan, meaning that instead of a creamy, crumbly Irish Terrier of a cheese I unwrapped a veritable Wolfhound. This older variety maintains it's rich texture but is characterized by an intense and salty grit, the two factors seemingly fighting for dominance and, in the end, making for a balanced but intensely potent cheese. As will happen, Cashel Blue grows soft in it's old age; it's moist and milky paste delivering the formidable bite of the Penicillium veining perfectly and all accompanied by an aroma to match. Perfect spread on anything or cut with some sweet dried fruit, Cashel is great for the blue cheese enthusiast looking for a mightier mold.

Just a quick word on mold while we're on the topic, as goodness knows I may never post another blue/molded cheese and I'd hate to miss this chance. If you think cheese with mold in it, around it, or through it is a frightening/disgusting proposition, allow me to respectfully disagree.
See, here's the thing. Cheese is, for all intents and purposes, curdled milk that has been molded or pressed into shape, salted, and aged for some period of time in big, cool, damp rooms. During this process additional enzymes and acidic starters are added to the milk, which even after the most grueling and flavor-decimating pasteurization process still contains a host of natural bacteria. In blue cheeses, these original bacteria are introduced to scientifically selected new fungal friends in controlled environments and then monitored periodically throughout the aging process to ensure that only the desired molds grow. Foreign molds will try to grow on the exterior of most any aged cheese, so they are regularly scrubbed and washed in pH-controlled saline solutions, helping the rind to develop while fending off trespassers. In bloomy-rind and surface ripened cheeses, such as the decadent French Chabichou du Poitou and Explorateur, the mold is right there on the surface, forming the naturally occurring and naturally delicious rind. Even Brie, a cheese so unoffensive children gladly eat it, is held together by a thin layer of mold, contributing hugely to the flavor and overall composition of the cheese.
Here's the point. The molds that you consume every time you take a bite of any cheese are meant to be there, including that spooky bluegreen marbled stuff in blue cheese. Rather than worrying about the mold that was injected into your cheese with a sterile needle (see Stilton), consider first the rBGH coursing through the veins of your milkcow or the pesticide-laden corn that it's eating. The Grubb's, like any responsible artisinal cheesemakers, keep a close watch over what's in their milk supply because they know that, eventually, it'll all get passed to the consumer.
Caution
If you tell me you've never tried/never wanted to try blue cheese(sheep cheese, goat cheese, etc), what I hear is "You should make getting me to try 'x' cheese your top priority".

Manchego, Preferred Cheese of Windmill Tilters

I first read Cervantes' Don Quixote de la Mancha as a wee lad and it made a lasting impression on me, eventually shaping my writing and perspective quite a bit. This is actually ironic, as I'm pretty sure Cervantes would scoff at my writing and find my personal philosophy to be as ridiculous as the chivalric romance literature he so masterfully satired. In any case the title character is known to joust, or tilt, at windmills under the grand delusion that they are evil giants to be smote from this world. This is that part of the film where one of the characters says the title and half of the audience shakes their head in judgment while the other half gets really excited and repeats it, just in case that first half missed it. Option C is that you, dear reader, have not looked at name under which I post these, in which case this entire paragraph is devoid of meaning.

When the brave knight-errant Don Quixote was not sallying forth towards this or that adventure, and indeed probably even when he was, I am fairly certain he could be found sating his noble hunger with Manchego, a cheese that also hails from La Mancha. This area-controlled Cheese carries a distinctive zig-zag patterned rind, a tribute to the grass baskets traditionally used as molds, and carries itself well at any age.

Origin: La Mancha, Spain
Milk: Sheep, pasteurized
Rennet: Animal
Affinage: 4-5 months
Notes: Milk sourced exclusively from the Manchega breed of sheep. You know what they say about Manchega sheep.
(they're b-e-a-ewe-tiful).
Thoughts: This Manchego is middle-aged, indeed some are aged as much as two years before being sold, and as a result the experience is on the whole creamy and grassy in that pleasant sheep's cheese manner. This specimen was already fairly firm when I bought it but, as is generally the case with Manchegos, the paste resisted crumbling and instead was uniformly delicious. The savory flavor has marked tangy and sweet notes, in balance with a mild saltiness and made complete with the occasional crunch characteristic of firm cheeses. One thing that is vital to note with Spanish cheeses, especially sheep cheeses, is that, if the Italian cheeses are salty, Spanish cheeses are oily. Before everyone gets the idea into their head that this is a bad thing, let me reassure you it is not. Sheep's milk is naturally the fattiest of the three main milk types, but these are not the KFC Double-Down variety fats that make heart disease the #1 killer of Americans, they're the no-additive, non-processed, non-hydrogenated, non-saturated, and generally non-adulterated fats that have been keeping the good people of La Mancha lean, mean, and full of nutrients for centuries. I'm not advocating that you go all Paula Dean and mainline the stuff, but there is nothing wrong with eating these cheeses in a reasonable manner. The oily characteristic, which will pop up again in other Spanish cheeses, adds a rich, dark dimension to the flavor that only goes further to explain why Manchego is a familiar installment on cheese platters everywhere. It is not as bold a flavor as the more aged Manchegos on the market or the other sharper Spanish sheep's milk gems, but it is by all accounts a standalone cheese and a deserving staple of any cheese diet.

This being the first cheese-a-day post I figure I'll try to explain more of my strategy for the next few months. When I was working at the Cheese Importers, spending glorious hours helping customers inside the walk-in cheese cooler, I always found myself explaining some random detail about cheese in response to a customer's query. The fact is there's a whole lot going on in cheese, made evident by the incredible variety in textures, flavors, colors, smells, and so forth. One cheese a day is good fun and all, but I'm going to try to add some eduction (targeted tangents, guided gushing, rational ranting) about once a week as well.

Today's thoughts on cheese address the three main milk types and why you should care.
I was raised in a cheddar and deli cheese household, with the more exotic cream cheese and cottage cheese adding a sense of wonder to my culinary life. In all seriousness, though I was always well fed and do not begrudge by parents their parenting, I took for granted that cheese came from cows for a criminally long time and didn't really have my horizons expanded beyond bovine until high school and, eventually, the Cheese Plate incident. I say criminally because only knowing one milk type is like unto only eating chicken, or only driving domestic cars. One bite of filet mignon, one look at an Alfa, and your world will never be the same.

Even more than the region from which a cheese hails, the variety of milk(s) used will influence the flavor in the most fundamental of ways. Cow's milk, likely the most easily recognized of the three, can be a little sweet, a little creamy, and will generally taste like, well, "the way milk/cheese tastes". Here I am admittedly relating to the Americans reading this, as different pasteurization laws in Europe lead to a different, more tangy tasting milk. Harsh pasteurization typical of dairies in the US kills off that tang, along with any soul the milk once had. Goat's milk products are typically tangy and very sweet when young, building into a nutty, grassy, and boldly tangy flavor when aged. Sheep's milk products will also have marked grassy/earthy tones but are considerably more rich and savory than sweet, aided by the characteristic oiliness mentioned above. Many cheesemakers combine two or all three of these milks to create unique and stunning cheeses, and then things really get crazy. These are, of course, gross simplifications of the plethora of flavors to be found in each category, much less the under appreciated buffalo and yak cheeses, but what's important to know is that there is a whole world to be tried apart from cow's milk cheese.

On top of this there are also some interesting scientific qualities to the three milk types worth noting, such as the high fat content of sheep's milk. For those stricken with lactose intolerance, for example, goat's milk cheeses are often prescribed as alternatives to cow's milk. The fats and proteins in goat's milk are structured differently and can be easier to break down. This works on a person-by-person basis only and is not a miracle cure, but it can mean continuing to enjoy cheese without the pain caused by cow's milk.
                                                             The More You Know


Caution
That was not worst nor the last cheese joke you will be made to suffer through.  

Goat Cheese and other Exciting Things

So here's the thing.
As it stands I've got enough cheeses already documented to post 4 or 5 a week for the next 9 months, but what fun would that be when we could have a cheese a day for 6 months! Yes yes I know this sounds too good to be true and, depending on my schoolwork over the next few months, it may just be. Still it's worth a shot, so starting Monday you'll be getting your dose of cheesy goodness daily and, as ever, with a smile. More fun news to follow, but you're not here for chit-chatting, jabberjawing, or chin wagging, you're here for cheese.

I've avoided themes thus far because, around the tenth or so "France" themed post for example,  there would eventually be some grumbling among the crowd (however small that crowd may be). I made it a whole four posts before caving, here's to willpower. The truth is I adore goat cheese. It's the closest to a favorite type of cheese that I have and, fortunately for myself and my fellow capercaseophiles, there is an absolute wealth of choices out there. Some better than others, here continues my guided tour of the wide world of goat cheese.

We begin with a selection that the casual goat cheese enthusiast will likely recognize and which is at home on any cheese plate: The Drunken Goat. Hailing from the town of Jumilla in the Murcia region of Spain, this is effectively the gateway drug into the world of wine-bathed cheese.

Origin: Murcia, Spain
Milk: Goat, pasteurized
Rennet: Animal enzyme
Affinage: 75 days
Notes: Soaked in Doble Pasta red wine for 48-72 hours. The cheese, that is. The goat just had a glass. This cheese is also name-protected under Spanish law.
Thoughts: The bone-white, semi-firm paste that is so characteristic of aged goat cheeses is enticing enough, but just upon unwrapping this treat it becomes clear that the vino-bath paid off. The aroma, while not overwhelming, is pronounced and, combined with the purple/brownish coloring that covers the rind and seeps ever so faintly into the paste, will make you start to wonder what else could be improved with 3 days curing in wine. Truth be told the cheese itself is a fairly average, if respectable, example of slightly aged goat cheese. The flavor remains mild from start to finish and the usually pronounced "tang"of the goat's milk is hardly noticeable at all. The texture is well balanced and creamy enough to somewhat make up for the understated flavor but I would trade a drier texture for a sharper flavor. The natural sweetness of the goat's milk does, however, compliment the sweet and fruity tones imparted by the wine bath, leaving you with a cheese that serves as a wonderful introduction to the subgroup of "drunken" cheeses. There are others, such as Irish porter and whiskey cheddars and Italian Ubriacos, but these tend to sour the less adventurous sampler with their intensity. Don't dismay, they're coming.

Drunken Goat gets seven arbitrary units of measurement out of ten, but this next cheese needs no introduction. Rather it deserves no introduction.
Landana Mild Goat

Origin: Netherlands
Milk: Goat, pasteurized
Rennet: Think the drummer from the Muppets
Affinage: 6-8 Weeks
Notes: Unmistakably cheese.
Yessir.
Thoughts: The sad truth is that there just isn't a whole lot to say about this cheese. I recall it was one of the first cheeses I recorded and photographed, distinguished by my short-lived habit of photographing the label along with the cheese, and I remember being generally disappointed to then find myself with sizable block of forgettable cheese. This was back when I was a cheese fiend sans employment, and when the checks aren't coming you can't afford to throw money away on sub-par Käse. The flavor is beyond mild, the only marginally noticeable characteristic being a hint of sweetness. The texture and creaminess would be suitable if there was any flavor to discern, but this the celery of goat cheeses, you'd die of boredom before it filled you up. My advice? Either find some bread and jelly or skip the middleman and just eat the peanut butter off the spoon. Maybe that's a bit harsh, and if you happen to find the black wax label 10 month aged Landana Goat Old do let me know what you think, but there just aren't any redeeming qualities to this cheese. There are lessons to be learned from this:
1) Not all that is imported is made of gold, the Europeans get it wrong too, and
2) Young goat Gouda is no better than young cow Gouda, they both belong on sandwiches not serving platters.

Don't worry, today's third cheese is a standalone rockstar and more than makes up for Landana's lack of character and flavor, but first some more news. The astute Sherlock Holmesian (Dr. Houseian?) reader will notice a new addition on the sidebar; some difficult to read and overly flowery text (I really must fire the intern responsible for all these run-on sentences of late). Directly below that paragraph there is a link to what may be simultaneously the most laughable and most telling sign of my addiction: my quick-reference cheese chart. Once upon a time I was a student of engineering, a well informed decision I made based on 18 years of enjoying playing with Lego, not hating math classes and a dream of one day earning money.  That story ended in tears (I realized I'd rather work with travel and politics than numbers and dirt) but i maintained my tendencies of over-analyzing and over-organizing.

The result is the cheese chart, containing the basic traits of all the cheeses I could find, as best as I could find them. I will admit not every box is checked, but in general the important information is there. A note on pasteurization and rennet type: if you are unsure about either and are greatly concerned, find a cheese you can be certain about. That being said cheese that is not labeled in any way as being microbial or vegetarian friendly can be safely assumed to use animal rennet; it is a big enough selling point that most manufacturers will want to make their animal-friendly ways known. As for pasteurization, international cheeses that do not specify "raw milk" "rohmilch" au lait cru" or "leche sin/no pasteurizar"will typically be be pasteurized, especially considering the legal difficulties with importing raw dairy products. As for domestic cheese, the vast majority will be pasteurized, thanks again to the tastebud-impared folks at the USFDA. Those that aren't will be marked but again, although I personally think the only real danger of eating unpasteurized cheese is having your mind blown in a flavor explosion, if you are seriously concerned then stick to the pasteurized stuff. Pasteurization deserves its own post and will get it soon. 
In any case I hope this resources is in some way helpful to those looking for a fresh French goat cheese or an unpasteurized cheddar or what have you, and of course I am always eager to answer cheese queries and help with pairings, platters ideas, and other manifestations of my addiction. The email address in my profile. PS: if you like the blog so much that you want to know when it's updated feel free to "follow" The Functioning Cheese Addict and make your addiction public as well. That link is also hiding on the left. 


Now for the main attraction, the Titan of Tuber Tastiness, the Giant of Goaty Goodness, here all the way from Cypress Grove Chevre in California; Truffle Tremor. Cypress Grove represents what is  truly the pinnacle of domestic goat cheese production, accept no substitutes. Their lineup is consistently incredible and varies from delicate fresh chevre to perfectly surface ripened gems to the best goat Gouda I have yet tried. Truffle Tremor is one of their more adventurous products but if decadent is what you're after then look no further.  

Origin: California, USA
Milk: Goat, pasteurized
Rennet: Full-fledged, no chicken no fish vegetarian.
Affinage: Up to one month
Notes: This particular specimen is on the older side of the surface-ripened cheese hill, as seen in the size of the creamline (or proteolysis), that bit bit between the soft white rind and the paste. Furthermore this cheese is made with black truffles, or tuber aestivum vittadini. Science Rules!
Thoughts: First of all, if that picture is not enough to encourage you to go out and purchase a wedge right away, well there may just be nothing more I can do for you. Even this rather aged variety maintains a soft and fluffy rind, yes this is one of those rinds you should definitely eat, while also showing how the proteolysis is slowly consuming the bone-white paste. Cheese is alive, true story. That process is the cheese naturally aging, as surface-ripened cheeses are apt to do, up until the point that you eat them, offering a lot of control over how sharp, creamy, and acidic you want your cheese experience to be. Truffle Tremor is a delight at any stage, but in this more mature state it truly defines the word decadent. The paste of the cheese is sharp and very rich, taking full advantage of the creamy goat's milk but maintaining a clean feel. Savory without being the least bit earthy, it combines with the milky creamline and the extra kick from the rind to create a flavor that is complex but not muddled. Throughout all of this is the steady umami kick of the truffles is present and adds yet another dimension of flavor, one distinct but so refined that it almost gets lost in the mix, preferring to remain relatively in the background from start to finish. This cheese is the first to go at parties, it is the favorite, it is All-Star Quarterback Johnny Footballplayer, it is Ms. Overachieving Social Butterfly/Homecoming Queen/Yearbook Editor-in-Chief. Buy a wedge, leave it wrapped up but unrefrigerated for about a half an hour on your kitchen counter, cancel your evening plans, and get your baguette on. 


Caution
The USFDA recommends that pregnant and nursing women and anyone with a weakened immune system avoids unpasteurized milk and dairy products. Your health is ultimately more important than trying every cheese out there, and there are lots of good pasteurized cheeses to be had. 
On the other hand, the US Government also recommends avoiding travel to Bosnia, Kosovo, Albania, Serbia, China, and the Caucasus. Really only one way to find out what all the fuss is about.
Just Sayin' 

True Story

In my younger and less cheese-filled years I was a student at Broad Rock Middle School, at the time a brand new facility full of potential and hope. Memories from this period of my life are generally pleasant; the occasional school trip, passing notes, the usual, but only one relates in any conceivable way to cheese.
There was one substitute teacher known only as "Mr. Dan", a laid-back young man who rocked a ponytail and was the subject of countless rumors and stories among the kids. Naturally my lit class was thrilled when we heard he'd be teaching us for the day and, paying lip service to the day's reading, we waited for some classic Mr. Dan hijinks. When it came my time to read I got up and, being the rather shy and quiet 7th grader that I was, stumbled through two or three paragraphs before mercifully "popcorning" to someone else. I'm still not sure why we always said "popcorn Jimmy (or Sally or other names my classmates definitely had)" when we wanted to pass the reading off, there was never actually any popcorn involved and reading aloud was still boring.
In any case, Mr. Dan stepped in before Jimmy could start and asked me to read the last sentence again. He was under the impression that 7th grade me, mischievously trying to mess with the sub, was putting on a voice, a funny accent. Having never stood accused of faking accents before I only managed a feeble "no", which prompted him to start guessing where I, and my accent, were from. His first and most logical guess was Amish Country, my second original accusation in as many minutes. It was a good day. Perhaps the Amish have a famous accent that I've never heard about, perhaps it's very similar to mine, perhaps he was just a space cadet, but for the rest of the year I was called Amish Boy. True story.

With that flawless intro I present to you Salemville Amish Gorgonzola. Though they may be better known for their closed communities, buggy riding, and totally righteous beards, they also cut a mean curd. That's some cheese-production lingo for you, impress your friends. A co-op within an Amish community in Wisconsin produces three varieties of blue cheese under the Salemville label, and along with the novelty comes some more tangible benefits. Through small herd sizes, hand milking, and strict quality control on what the cows eat, the Amish maintain a consistently high quality product.

Origin: Wisconsin, USA
Milk: Cow, pasteurized
Rennet: Not suitable for a vegetarian diet
Affinage: 90 days
Notes: Hand cut, pressed, turned, washed, weighed, wrapped, delivered, and eaten.
Thoughts: Before reviewing this worthy cheese there is one issue to address. Although it is marketed as Gorgonzola, it is not. Just like every bottle of the bubbly is not technically Champagne, not every creamy blue cheese is Gorgonzola. True Gorgonzola is produced in specified regions of Italy under close regulation, earning the fame associated with the name and protected, in theory, under EU law. It's pretty safe to say that the Gorgonzola on your last "quattro fromaggi" pizza wasn't imported from Italy, either. The good news is that, like that pizza, domestic Gorgonzola can still be delicious. This particular nomenclative interloper has a mild but pronouncedly pungent aroma, followed by a similarly mild bite and a richly creamy texture. Perfectly salty without being overbearing or mineraly, Amish Gorgonzola is a great and reasonably priced staple blue cheese, begging to be crumbled on top of buffalo-chicken pizza or your next steak. 

People often ask me what country makes the best cheese, a question I've never been able to fully answer. The reflex response might be France, but if I could only eat French cheeses I would eventually begin to crave Spanish Cabra Romero, American Midnight Moon, and so forth. The beauty that is the wide variation in cheese makes no one country the sole King(or Queen), and even France is home to some cheeses to avoid. Rather, countries generally have their own characteristic cheeses and moreover their own characteristic cheese traits. When you look at a cheese with a more holistic approach, as a product of what the animal has eaten, where the herd pastures, geography, tradition etc, it follows to reason that trends appear within countries. HINT: This is a big factor in why the sheep eating flower petals and such on the hills of Corsica make a tastier cheese than the ones shackled inside a Kraft factory eating corn.

Salt. That little detour was supposed to wrap up nicely with Italian cheeses being, on the whole, rustic, savory, and salty, bringing us to our next cheese: Pecorino Ginepro. And here we are.
The Pecorino family of cheeses was largely a mystery to me until I began work at the Cheese Importers, where I learned that there is more out there than just the grating/pasta cheese Pecorino Romano. As the name implies, pecora being Italian for sheep, Pecorinos are all made from ewe's milk and carry that characteristically savory flavor. Pecorino Ginepro, however, is instantly distinguishable from its cousins by the deep purple rind, an indicator of its unique flavor characteristics. What in the wild might mean "stay away I'm poisonous" here means "nah man it's cool I've just been bathed in Balsamic vinegar and juniper berries, I'm totally delicious and toxin-free".

Origin: Italy
Milk: Sheep, unpasteurized
Rennet: Definitely from an animal 
Affinage: 4 to 6 months
Notes: Because balsamic vinegar wasn't already tasty enough on salad.
Thoughts: Like many other firm and semi-firm sheep's milk cheeses, the first and most notable flavor characteristics of this cheese are grassy and savory, drawn out and highlighted by faint salty tones. In fact this cheese is considerably earthier than the more well known sheep's cheeses of the world, such as Spain's Manchego. What alone would be a solid if uninspired cheese is shocked to another level by the treatment process it undergoes. You can even see in the picture how the vinegar bath has permeated the paste, and the flavor goes considerably deeper than the coloring would suggest. Here the palate really is shocked to find that acidic sweetness that makes balsamic vinegar so desirable, in stark contrast to the otherwise reserved flavors of the paste. These opposing tastes play off of each other nicely and the texture breaks down perfectly to create a unique experience.

Sticking with sheep's milk we come to another cheese that draws its defining character from its locale, the romantically named Brin d'Amour. Meaning strand or bit of love, this cheese presents an interesting case for classification. It is a sheep's milk cheese, brie-like in texture only, technically French but lacking similar cheeses in any country, and imbued with the unique flavor of the island from which it hails: Corsica. It is sold at a variety of ages and occasionally even contains goat's milk.

Origin: Corsica, France
Milk: Sheep, raw
Rennet: As with the majority of mainland European cheeses, animal derived.
Affinage: 4-6 weeks.
Notes: This sample was covered in rosemary, thyme, and coriander, though they lost some of their original bounce and color on the way to America.
Thoughts: As usual, I set this cheese out to warm up before tasting it and returned sometime later to find the paste had spread out to the entire area of the small plate it was sitting on. This is a good sign in a brie. The sweetness of the paste (I would not recommend eating the rind, or rather I would recommend it but only for educational purposes. The dried and thus slightly bitter herbs do not compliment the flavor) was actually surprising, and the texture is so smooth and runny that the smallest details of flavor are magnified tenfold. Still Brin d'Amour is never heavy on the palate, maintaining it's light presence through the fruity and herbal tones of the rind. After the initial sweetness, herbal is truly the dominant flavor, complimented by but stronger than the usual grassy and savory tones of the sheep's milk. This cheese begs to be paired with a fruity red wine and crisp pear slices, though it could also hold its own simply spread onto bread or crackers.


Caution
If you are reading this and are Amish, you might not actually be Amish. You might just have a righteous beard. 

The First Lucky Winners

This week's poisons come from faraway, exotic locales: Torres Vedras, Portugal, and Central Point, Oregon.

Ok, so California and Washington usually steal all the West Coast thunder, but Central Point is home to an enterprise worthy of praise and recognition; Rouge Creamery. Founded in 1935, Rouge has been something of a visionary in the market of top end, artisanal cheeses, a vision that has payed off in spades. Today they boast a commanding lineup of blue cheeses, a shining example of which is this Rogue River Blue.

Origin: Oregon, USA
Milk: Cow, unpasteurized
Rennet: vegetarian friendly
Affinage: Up to 1yr
Notes: Hand wrapped in locally harvested grape leaves macerated in locally distilled Clear Creek Pear Brandy.
Thoughts: When a cheese comes into the shop looking more made up than a high school dance attendee skepticism is, for good reason, the instinctual reaction. This is especially true for American-made imitators of European originals, the sad truth being that wrapping a cheese in paper cut and dyed to resemble a leaf does not actually add character and history to the product. Fortunately for us, the folks at Rogue Creamery are no hacks, and this cheese delivers.
Reading that a wheel of cheese is covered in brandy-soaked grape leaves is one thing, but smelling is believing. The rich aroma of this cheese, sweet and yet pungent, has been known to bring seasoned cheesemongers to tears, and even then it's only a hint of what's to come. Unlike the blue giants of England or France, the main characteristic of this blue is not the intensity of the bite, but rather the complexity and balance of the flavors. There is, of course, the expected kick from the generous veining, but if anything the secret to this cheese's success is how that kick plays off of the equally strong sweet and nutty notes distributed throughout the paste. Even where there is no veining the three characteristics are all present and, while there is a fair degree of minerality such as one would find in Roquefort, the dense, creamy texture carries throughout.

I didn't consciously set out to start this blog with my favorite blue cheese, the addiction just runs deeper than I'd thought. I'm not the only one who wants to bring a wheel of this home for himself either, it was the first American cheese to dethrone the Europeans as World's Best Blue Cheese at the  2003 World Cheese Awards in London. Yes there are World Cheese Awards, yes they're a big deal. Think World Cup. Replace footballs with cheese. Replace nets with mouths. Leave vuvuzelas out of it all together. You're pretty much there.

Speaking of Europe, this week's second cheese is European. Whoever said segues were difficult.

Palhais also comes uniquely packaged, with each handful of adorably small cheeses vacuum sealed together with excess whey to keep the little guys fresh. This may not sound particularly appetizing, nor are they especially cooperative when it comes time to individually wrap them, but the mess is worth it. I first tried one when I was on a serious goat cheese bender, and while I recoiled at the time to find such an atypical flavor among my fresh chevres and goat goudas, Palhais is a must for any goat cheese lover.
Origin: Torres Vedras, Portugal
Milk: Goat, pasteurized
Rennet: NOT vegetarian friendly.
Affinage: 20-30 days
Notes: About the size of a half dollar coin, but far more edible.
Thoughts: Like I mentioned, I first tried Palhais in the midst of a goat cheese binge so epic Johnny Depp would have to play me in the movie adaptation, and that definitely colored my impression. This is not a delicate, soft, chevre, and though it has the right bone white coloring and a hint of that delightful goat tanginess, the similarities stop there. This surprisingly firm cheese packs a lot of flavor into each bite, but not because it is that creamy or that rich, it just simply does. The dominant flavor is decidedly salty but, while the initial reaction to this is understandably negative, Palhais actually has a lot to offer. The salt brings out a seldom seen earthiness along with the more commonplace tang of the goat's milk, and it works so well you don't even miss the sweetness of most fresh goat cheeses. Never gritty or unpleasant, the texture is just creamy enough to keep the cheese together when cut and lets the flavor do the talking, more notable in this case for not being noticed.
This may not be the best goat cheese out there, but it puts a very successful spin on the traditional fresh goat cheese and is more than worth the pittance that one disk should cost you.

Caution
These cheeses should only be consumed under adult supervision or in the company of friends. Consuming them alone may be a sign of late-stage cheese addiction. 

My Story

My name is Michael and I am a functioning cheese addict.
I am also a student of International Relations and German, a musician, a traveler, a big fan of 19th century Russian fiction, and an aspiring semi-professional adult. Those blogs will have to wait.

In hopes of finding the source of my cheese addiction, no doubt with the intention of "curing" me, friends often ask if I was raised on an all cheese diet from birth.  In fact, mine was a fairly normal suburban childhood. I did enjoy my share of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese, but if that were the spring from which cheese addiction flows there would be quite a few more addicts among us. I made Easy-Cheese and saltine cracker towers and the occasional Christmas cheeseball, but as far as I know every kid who watched the Goofy Movie wanted to make a "leaning tower of cheeza". That should put my age into perspective. Needless to say 10 year old Michael was not campaigning for artisan cheeses at the dinner table, nor was he writing his senator about the devastating effects of harsh pasteurization laws, but sometime later a light turned on.

In early 2008 I was looking for a destination for a date with that special someone and happened to spot the grand opening of The Cheese Plate in Warren, RI, a mere 45 minutes away. Intrigued, we dined there one weekend and were blown away. The menu was as simple and elegant as the name implied: you could order cheese plates, cured meat plates, and wine, beer, or soft drinks to wash it all down. The variety of the cheeses, the range of flavors and textures, the combinations possible with the assorted dried fruits and nuts, and the excellent service brought us back a couple of weeks later with friends, and and then again with more friends, until piling into cars and making the hour and a half round trip became a sacred ritual. Before long we all went our separate ways for college and I ended up at the University of Colorado at Boulder, considerably more than 45 minutes away from Warren, RI. I'm still not sure if those friends have forgiven me for running away, but in any case the tradition lived on whenever we were all on break; a ragtag group of college students crashing a classy wine and cheese establishment, ordering cheese and soda, and staying pretty much until were thrown out, ever eager to savor each cheese and on occasion chat with the owner.

Boulder has many things, but one thing it lacks is a Cheese Plate substitute. So, starting about a year and a half ago, I decided to continue my cheese education independently. Beginning with a slice of unassuming and thoroughly underrated Leyden (Leiden), I have photographed and documented every noteworthy cheese since. As I write this the current count is just over 170. As much relevant information about the cheese as I could find is recorded along with a tasting opinion and, while not every cheese turned out to be a keeper, the range does cover every animal type and cheese classification that I've yet heard of. Ever tried Mongolian yak cheese curds? They're delicious.

The plot thickens, as while living and studying in Boulder I've had the opportunity to work both at Haystack Mountain Goat Dairy and the Longmont Cheese Importers, literally helping to make the cheese at one job that I was selling at the other. Both were very educational and convinced me that cheese was in my future, while simultaneously convincing my friends that I was truly a head case.
Furthering my education, in more ways than one, I am currently on a year abroad in Germany as part of my degree program. Yes, Germany is a lovely country full of good reasons to live and study here. No, Germany is not exactly a hotbed of fine cheeses. Turns out proximity and travel are compelling substitutes, though, and all those unpasteurized cheeses we can't get in the States are still here, if perhaps a little harder to find than they'd be Italy or France. As they say; Carpe Casei!
 
This list that I've compiled is not by any means perfect, but it has served me well in looking for cheese addiction-enabling employment. In light of that, and for fear of being left in the technological dust even further than is already the case, I am setting about making the extent of my addiction known to every last internet out there.
Every single one.