Le Petit Fuxéen, or How do you Say That?

Seriously, I think it is fair to say I chose the wrong language to learn if I wanted to sound real clever and convincing while talking about cheeses. I mean, the newcomer to the blog could be forgiven for thinking I only write about cheeses with German names, but I do in fact love French cheeses as well! It just so happens that knowing German, a phonetic language where every letter is pronounced, does one little good when trying to pronounce French cheese names where... seriously what am I supposed to pronounce again? I can do pretty well with 'le petit'. Maybe I need to do another exchange year, just work in a cheese store in Strasbourg or, I don't know, Toulouse? I hear it's alright there.

Origin: France
Milk: Cow, raw
Affinage: 45 days

Notes: What I want to know is, where are the gran versions of all of these petit cheeses? OK, seriously. It is a washed rind cheese from the Pyrenees region of France, although it does not smell nearly as, ehm, voluminous as some washed rind cheeses. Quite the contrary. Pretty rind though!

Thoughts: Hints of cream and garlic make up a very mild cheese, much milder than it looks and even milder than it smells. As with so many washed rind cheeses the bark is worse than the bite. The rind is perhaps the only caveat there, as it is quite thick and gritty for such a thin cheese. Get a rind-heavy bite of le petit Fuxéen and you will be quickly reminded of the style of cheese you are indulging in. The smoothy mouthfeel of the paste is the dominant expression in the cheese, carrying the flavor notes along in a pleasant but not overwhelming wave of cream.


Anyone know a French tutor that accepts payment in cheese? Or, say, mildly cheese related musings? 

Époisses de Bourgogne, or 'Holy Moses, kid!'

Sometimes, living in Germany, I start to get complacent. I mean, if you based your view of the cheese world on typically Swiss, Austrian, and German cheeses (typically what is on deep sale at my local stand), then you would be forgiven for thinking that all cheese is firm, made from cow's milk, and ranging in flavor from mildly buttery to sweet and nutty to, on occasion, sharp. I don't mean to insult the culinary credentials of my current country of residence, I am learning every week to appreciate the cheeses of the alps more and more. But, if the whole world of cheese flavors is a cathedral organ, then limiting yourself to eating only the cheeses from three countries is playing on only half an octave.

Sometimes, sometimes you have to remind yourself of the depth and breadth of what mankind can do with a little milk, a bit of patience, and a lot of skill. France is never a bad place to start. To that end we are tackling a legend of the French cheese scene, a cheese so renowned that it is actually embarrassing to not already have a post for it here on the blog: Époisses de Bourgogne.

Origin: Côte-d'Or, France
Milk: Cow, raw
Affinage: 4 weeks

Notes: Washed rind, brandy washed rind to be exact. What style, what class. This was a young one, still with a defined and firm white paste.

Thoughts: Hot dog. This is good. How good? As my grandma used to say "Holy Moses, kid!" We're talking mushrooms. We're talking roasted garlic. We're talking black pepper. This particular example was also sweet, and creamy, with a firm and defined paste that holds its own against all of the pep and power of creamline and rind. This is a balanced and delicious cheese, every bite a piece of culinary delight. Every element of this cheese, paste, creamline, and rind, come together in distinctly delicious ways to create a symphony of flavor. It is in balance, it is elegant.  This cheese deserves epic poems and entire 5 course meals based on it.



New challenge for next dinner party: Five-course Epoisses inspired menu. 

Stafelalper, oder der aus Zermatt

Yes, this is again a cheese I've purchased from the sale section (sale board, really) of my local cheese stand. I can't keep myself away. It's lovingly scripted invitations to try one of five or six (usually German, Swiss, or Austrian) cheeses is a siren song under whose spell I am powerless. Not all of these cheeses are winners. Some are labeled 'mild', which translates from the German roughly into: lacking a strong or powerful flavor, making only a little impression, see: bland. Others, however, carry the honorific of 'würzig'. I want würzig. And I will have würzig. And today I am going to write to you about würzig.


Origin: Zermatt, Switzerland

Milk: Cow, raw

Affinage: 14 months

Notes: Würzig doesn't have a perfect translation into English, but comes pretty close at 'flavorful'.  Flavorful+. Flavorful + Spicy, but not like chili peppers spicy rather spicy like there are spices afoot here. Maybe just flavorful. If my armchair linguistics serve me correctly, it is related to the German word for spices; Gewürze. Which is a little misleading, considering this cheese has only milk, rennet, and salt* as ingredients.

Thoughts: This cheese has a lot going on! And I love it all. The initial impression is like biting into a well aged cheddar, all crunchy-chewy and creamy-sweet paste. Right away it takes a sharp left turn, though, and establishes itself proudly as a Bergkäse. The raw milk doesn’t bludgen the tongue and gums the way some are known to, but adds simply another pleasing layer of flavor and complexity. It is grassy and peppery on the front, but as the butterfat breaks down on the palate who is that over there all of a sudden?! Pears and berries! In a Bergkäse. What will they think of next! Everything on this cheese is working in symphony to create a real class act of a Bergkäse. The delicate crunch, the buttery paste, the raw milk and the peppery, fruity aftertaste. Next time you’re in Zermatt, make sure you track it down!

*Yes. Yes. I know 'salt' is a spice. In the way that water is a beverage. 

Queso al Romero, or 'Don Juan'.

One of the many perks of being known in your immediate (and even extended) social circle as 'the cheese guy' is that you are, in the words of a friend of mine; very easy to buy for. I recently entered another fresh rotation around our local star and, to mark the occasion, said friend brought me cheese! He is a good friend. One cheese was intentionally bad, but two were intentionally great. He had even remembered my description of a favorite cheese of mine (the top-five Cabra Romero) and tried to track it down for me. Because, apparently I do in fact talk about my favorite cheeses. Just casually.

In any case I was intrigued by the rough bits of whole rosemary pedal in the paste, and the fact that unlike my above named favorite goat's milk cheese from Spain this was a sheep's milk cheese. How would it compare? I owed it to the world (and my friend) to find out.

Origin: Spain

Milk: Sheep

Affinage: 6 months

Notes: If you've been tuning into these halls of cheese musings for a while now (says the author into the empty void, mistaking his own echoes from the cobwebbed walls as the murmured affirmation of his audience), then you'll know I'm a sceptic when it comes to any foreign (see: non essential) ingredients being added into my cheeses. The theory is, if it's a good enough cheese, why not let it stand on its own? You may add today's cheese to the brave list of exceptions to this rule, as it is both 1) a delicious delicious cheese and b) made even better by the addition of rosemary.

Thoughts: Beautiful. This cheese is bold and intense, starting strong and finishing stronger. The pure fattiness of the sheep’s milk hits you from the start and carries every succeeding flavor note along with it, most notably of course being the rosemary but also including hints of dried flowers. Sweet cream, pepper on the back end, every now and then a whisper of umami as if you were enjoying a good steak or piece of Taleggio.

Honest thought I had while tasting this cheese: 'aw man, it's been forever since I've tried some new sheep's milk cheeses. What was I thinking!' 

The world is burning, and this is my concern. 

Hallertauer Ziegenhof Goat Ricotta

How often do you get to talk about sustainable low-input dairy farming one day and the very next day discover a local goat dairy is 1) in existence and b) practicing just that!
Seldom.
Seldom is the answer.
All the more was my joy, then, when I re-stumbled upon a stand at my local farmer's market. The Hallertauer Ziegenhof stand is a cornucopia of high quality local cheeses and meats. A Cheesucopia. What quickly caught my eye, though, was the advertisement for fresh ricotta. You may recall from a recent post that I am an absolute sucker for fresh ricotta. What the recent joiner of the Functioning Cheese Community may not know, however, is that I also love Goat's milk cheeses. L.O.V.E. Love them. I'd never tried goat ricotta, only a phenomenal sheep's milk ricotta from Fruition Farms and the legendary Parma Ricotta to note, so starting a culinary tour of Hallertauer Ziegenhof's menu here was a no brainer.

Origin: Bavaria, Germany
Milk: Goat,
Affinage: fresh!

Notes: The beauty of sustainable dairy farming is the lack of need for many of the chemical inputs and antibiotics that are required to keep an industrial scale operation going. The idea is to balance the natural needs and outputs of different animals and plants in such a proportion that, for example, the mixture of animals fertilizes and aerates the ground where said animal's grazing feed can then grow. Or, say, pigs consuming the otherwise wasted whey, a byproduct of cheesemaking that pigs love and is healthy for them.

Thoughts: The first thing you notice upon biting in is that this is more a savory than a sweet Ricotta. The grain is fine and pleasant, like a magic trick where the grain is so fine it is actually creamy. This is more of a hay and grassy Ricotta, nowhere to be found is the typical sweet tang of goat’s milk. Still it lacks nothing, it keeps you coming back wanting more! It is complex but subtle, a full and complete bite by itself but also clearly a strong base for so many pairings. On your third and fourth bite you start to be bewitched by the luxury of the cheese and imagine you are tasting chocolate and other herbs, although you know it only goat’s milk! This has been made with love, and what a treat to find it here at the farmer’s market! 

I've been working on my ricotta toast game (#ricottatoastrevolution) but they usually don't last long enough to be photographed. I do love writing about and photographing cheese, but I love eating it even more.