Neufchâtel, Super Delicious and Super Unimportable

Some people go their entire lives and never eat really incredible cheese. There are some cheeses that require expeditions, quests, life plans. Neufchâtel is one of those cheeses. Not much of a crazy story for this one, but here's what I have. This was one of those cheeses I had been looking to try when I was in Germany, and sure enough my local stout yeoman always had some on hand. I got the prized heart slice, which meant both a super delicious and a super messy piece. Here it is, folks, a cheese to definitely try if you're ever in France. 

Origin: Normandie, France

Milk: Cow, unpasteurized

Rennet: Animal

Affinage: 6-8 weeks

Notes: Name controlled cheese, 45% fat content. Melts like buttah. 

Thoughts: Though the chalky, almost crumbly paste is dry at first it is decadently sharp and full of salty/sweet goodness. As it breaks down a dark creaminess covers the palate and the fatty richness takes over with notes of grass and mushrooms fighing their way though. Mine had lost a little of its structural integrity on the way home from the store (it was a little hot that day) but this displays all the better the different parts of this surface ripened beauty. The rind and creamline themselves form a sensational pair, every bit as smooth and unassuming at first as you could hope but building into a pretty decent bite towards the end and on into the aftertaste. Combine some of the creamy, milky interior with this spicy shell and you get a flavor sensation that is hard to beat, truly a testament to the power of a good French cheese. 

I am a little sad to be using up these delicious unpasteurized cheeses, I won't be able to replace them with new entries until my next visit. What's a functioning cheese addict to do?

Herve Mons Meule de Savoie, FROM THE CLOUD!

That's right. The future is now.
This post, albeit late, is from the future. Is from the cloud.
That's exciting to me, at least. Even more exciting, a new cheese! The stoutish yeoman at a national natural food chain which shall not be named pointed me to this when pressed for Beaufort. Herve Mons Meule de Savoie is not Beaufort, but it's still awful good.
Origin: Savoie, France
Milk: Cow, raw
Rennet: Animal
Affinage: 10 months
Notes: Imbued with extra cloudiness. It's... cloudy. That's also why the format is all wonky.
Thoughts: A rich creaminess starts off a fully chocolatey and nutty experience, quite a bit moister than most gruyere style cheeses. It is tangy in all the right places and has just a tiny crunch from the caesin to really round out the texture. It's not the strongest of flavored but is very well fulled out. The cheese breaks down nicely on the palate and has notes of fruit here and there among more prominent sweet tones.

La la thoughts la cloud la la ka

Nevat, When You're Out of Bread

For the most part, cheeses come in a handful off different looks and shapes, and these looks and shapes tell you what the flavor might be. So when I found a cheese shaped like a bread loaf, well I could only hope. Hope against hope that there might be bready notes in it. Ladies and Gentlemongers, Nevat does not disappoint. 

Origin: Can Pujol, Spain

Milk: Sheep, pasteurized

Rennet: Animal

Affinage: Weeks or something, maybe 3-5.

Notes: Usually a goat's milk cheese, this particular variety is made with sheep's milk. No big deal. The name means snow in Catalan, and its creator Josep gives it that lovely rind with a coating of Penicillium. Let's all thank Josep. 

Thoughts: Like eating bread? Like eating cheese? Like eating cheese and bread? This is yeasty like no other cheese I’ve tried. You actually get the distinct impression while eating it that you’re eating bread as well. The texture is a little chewy and very smooth, but not in a creamy way. Salty, grassy, even some notes of toffee play off one another in this knockout cheese, and the creamline is has a deep but very balanced buttery note to it. The paste melts on the palate, one of the most intruging and truly unique cheeses I’ve ever had. Spain continues to amaze!  

Brought to you by delirious cheese tastings at 2 in the morning. The best kind of cheese tastings. 

Cheeses to Try When in France

Wow.
Let me begin by confessing my jealousy of those fortunate enough to be in the Old World, not just in France but all over. The world of incredible cheeses, which must be sought out and pursued like a choice second-hand-store find here in the USA fills the streets and markets there. It is as much a part of the atmosphere as the wide boulevards of Bucharest, the yellow-hued walls of the old quarter in Palma de Mallorca, or the gardens of Berlin. You breath it in until it becomes another necessity of life, a staple without which your diet would crumble.

To make a list of cheese to try when in France is a tall order, and I am certain that anyone who has lived in France will have tried many more French cheeses than I ever have, see jealousy. To even presume to know the world within a world within a world that is French Cheese fully enough to give a comprehensive primer is beyond even my snobbery, but here are the cheeses I would seek out with haste and anticipation upon arriving in France:

Goat Cheese
French cheese would not be the same without chevre, and there are a million different brands, shapes, sizes, and flavors to choose from. I would say start with the plain, look for anything au lait cru, and then branch off into that which is covered in ash, or paprika, or juniper berries, herbs de provence, etc etc.
Definitely find a Crottin de Chavignol, for while it is a little more potent it is also super delicious.

Brie
Oh dear, the Brie. Brie de Meaux and Brie de Melun are pretty safe bets for life-altering, world changing cheeses, but if you're in Paris you will have no shortage of Bries vying for your Euros no matter where you go. My advice? Wait for the the spring and summer (these are young cheeses, buy one in January and it's from at the latest December milk... which means December food for the cows.... which means hay. You want the real pasture and twigs and mushrooms and such flavors of warmer weather) months and ask the stout yeoman for three cuts of brie at three different ages. That plus a bague...
Sorry, daydreaming again.
Also, Reblochon is a game-changer. Try some.

Sheep Cheese
Again, there are so many options, and mostly all are great. See if you can find Causses d'Argental or anything from the Pyrenees Mountains, anything from Jura, anything Basque. It won't disappoint.

Blue
You can find a lot of the great French Blue cheeses here in the States, but if possible look for some stranger sounding Blues, or anything that is the "reserve" or "superior" etc variety, as that will likely not be available at home. I found a Roquefort Superior while I was in Germany... preeeeeeeetty much fell in love with Roquefort again.

Swiss
Beaufort and Comté have my heart when it comes to French made high Alpine cheeses, and they're also very approachable for the less adventurous among us. Sometimes when I say approachable I mean "lame and boring" or "for the unenlightened", this time I mean "mind-blowingly delicious but not stinky".

Stinky
These, unlike some of the cheeses I have listed above, you cannot so easily get at home, so when you're feeling bold search them out: real Munster, real Époisses, real Livarot.

Overall you should look for that which you cannot find in the US, assuming you, dear reader, are from the US. That will usually mean looking for young (on the scale of weeks or up to two months) and unpasteurized cheeses, or anything that just looks completely foreign. If you see something that you've never seen before, ask for a taste of it. Any self-respecting stout yeoman will be happy to provide a sample. If you like it, buy it. Put a ring on it. Pick up some 4 Euro wine and a fresh baguette, and have a ball. Like I said, this list is a little hurried and far from complete, but the good news is that the best education comes from trying new cheeses first hand.

Rogue Creamery Smoky Blue, Making a Believer Out of Me

Dear Reader,

Something you may or may not know about me is that I am not a huge fan of "smoked flavor" foods. This merits some clarification, so let me assure I do in fact like smoked meats. I will eat smoked pork all day and be a happy man, smiling my way right into a heart attack. What I don't like is smoked flavor on foods that should not really be smoked. The greatest and most notable offender here is, yes dear reader I'm going there, the humble cheddar. I have yet to find a smoked cheddar that is anything but a subpar cheddar with some bleh smokiness added to it, adding up to nothing at all. Low quality smoked salmon? So gross. Smoked chevre? Why? The sickly sweet and sticky texture and flavor that accompany most run of the mill smoky-whatevers is just rubbish. Through and through. That's assuming the initial product was any good, and we all know that's wishful thinking.

So.

When I saw that Rogue Creamery, legendary for their blue cheese range, made a smoked blue... I was skeptical. Friends, comrades in curds, caseophiles, I am hereby admitting to having found a truly delicious smoked cheese. Smoky Blue is a good cheese, a good blue, and a good smoked. It is a good. Good.

Origin: USA, Seattle Washington

Milk: Cow, unpasteurized

Rennet: V-v-v-v-vegetarian!

Affinage: 4-6 months

Notes: Cold smoked for 16 hours over hazelnut shells. What you know about a next level hipster smoking process?

Thoughts: Imagine a strip of bacon. Now imagine you’re dunking that strip of bacon in gorgonzola and eating it whole. You’re now getting a bit of an idea of Smoky Blue. The smoke, while definitely present both in aroma and flavor, is not in any way overbearing or artificial. Instead it is rather subtle and develops over the course of the flavor, constantly playing off the understated bite of the gorgonzola and carried perfectly by a carefully balanced creaminess. 

The Cheese Manifest, Cheese List, and Cheese photogallery of the FCA are all up to date and ready to start churning out misguided posts again, hope you all had a lovely Christmas/Holiday/Standard day of the week.