Museum of French Cheese
“Behind every cheese,’’ he muses, ‘’there is a pasture of a different green under a different sky: meadows caked with salt that the tides of Normandy deposit every evening; meadows scented with aromas in the windy sunlight of Provence; there are different flocks, with their stablings and their transhumances; there are secret processes handed down over the centuries. This shop is a museum: Mr. Palomar, visiting it, feels as he does in the Louvre, behind every displayed object the presence of the civilization that has given it form and takes form from it.”
Mr. Palomar was required reading for me when I was in college, and though I am not the greatest fan of the work, there are portions of it that I recall with great clarity. One such section is when Mr. Palomer visits a cheese shop while in Paris. Surveying the plethora of cheeses, the multitudinous variations, rich colors, textures, fragrances, and flavors, he’s overcome with a profound revelation.
“This shop is a museum.”
While a simple observation, and to some laughable, I have always appreciated the tenderness of it. For it is in that moment when Mr. Palomar realizes the infinite beauty that exists in the most banal, mundane, and provincial of places. Where elites and acolytes revere the narrow and acceptable constructions of artistic mastery, this simple man is able to distill that same level of mastery into the production of cheese. What Italo Calvino presents here is that the scholar need not be found in the hallowed halls of academia, but in a simple shop. This is encouraging, for it presents us all with the ability to not only find beauty in the world around us, but also to be scholars, masters of fundamental truths found within the world.
More to the point, let’s talk about cheese. Being a frequent lover of the fromage, cheese is a topic that touches this turophile’s (lover of cheese) heart. We turophiles follow Mr. Palomar’s cheese shop deduction with alacrity. And, as Mr. Palomar finds himself in a cheese shop in Paris, I thought it would be a fun excursion into the world of cheese to discuss the types, flavors, and legends that surround cheese produced in France.
As Valentine’s Day is just around the corner, let’s start with Neufchatel.
This soft, cream cheese like cow cheese could seem somewhat familiar. It looks like brie, but it’s not. Though Neufchatel comes in many shapes and sizes, it is most famously produced in the shape of a heart. Legend has it that during the Hundred Year War between France and England, the French farm maids would fall in love with the British soldiers. To show this forbidden love, they shaped their cheese in hearts to give to their secret loves. It’s rather romantic, and the French love to honor romance. Because of Neufchatel’s mild flavor, it compliments a variety of different parings well from fruity jams and perseveres to pepper jelly to thinly sliced cured meats. However, sometimes the simplest approach is best- spread generously on a crusty baguette.
Being that the appearance between Neufchatel and Brie is so similar, let’s talk about Brie. Brie is one of my favorites. However, the Brie commonly purchased here in the United States is a far cry from that which is found for sale in the French markets. Called the “Queen of Cheeses,” traditional French Brie is made from unpasteurized or ‘raw’ cow’s milk. This ‘unstabilized’ cheese is allowed to mature fully to where the surface turns a slight brownish hue. This allows the flavors to fully mature and present an aromatic finish that is tangy, fruity and nutty. When the rind is still bright white, the cheese is deemed immature. However, as the production of Brie in the United States is regulated, pasteurized milk is used, rendering the end product ‘stable,’ but, alas, incapably of reaching the maturity that French fromagers deem proper.
The French take their cheese production seriously. They even have an entire department dedicated to the regulation and protection of cheese production in the country known as Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée (AOC). Where Brie is concerned, there are specific rules that govern the making of it. The two most notable and esteemed variations of Brie are Brie de Meaux and Brie de Melun. Because government regulation in France requires that these two cheese be made with raw milk, they unfortunately are unavailable in the U.S. of A. Leaving aside the pro and con arguments for the consumption of raw milk, I will say that this is a great tragedy for the American turophile.
Brie de Meaux
Brie de Meaux is known as Le Roi des Fromages, the King of Cheeses. It has earned this title fair and square, too. The Emperor Charlemagne is said to have enjoyed his first taste of this cheese in 774. While Marie Antionette had a penchant for cake, it would seem her mate had one for cheese, for it is rumored that Louis XVI’s last wish was for a taste of this cheese. And, in 1814, the European Tournament convened at the Congress of Vienna bestowed Le Roi des Fromage formally upon the Brie de Meaux. This cheese has a creamy, smooth texture, and buttery, sweet flavor.
Brie de Melun
Where Brie de Meaux may be the king of cheeses, Brie de Melun holds an even older distinction, as being the ancestor of all Brie. In 1980, this cheese was granted AOC protection, requiring that the manner in which the cheese is manufactured adhere to strict guidelines to ensure the highest quality. The cows from which the milk is taken to produce this cheese graze in the valleys of Seine et Marne. The semi-soft cheese is then innoculated with Penicillium mold and allowed to age for 4-5 weeks in a cellar. If it matures longer than that, say for a couple of months, its flavor becomes even more pronounced and it becomes Brie de Noir. Where Brie de Meaux is sweet and creamy in flavor and texture, Brie de Melun has a sharper, salty taste and a firmer texture. Brie de Meaux is a cheese the experts advise be enjoyed paired with Gaillac wines. (If you don’t know about Galliac wines, I have an inkling that I’ll be writing about some of the interesting and enigmatic history of the wines produced in this region.)
Now that we’ve thrown around some regal cheeses, Roquefort is next on the bill. Bleu cheese is one of my favorite cheeses out there, and the penultimate bleu cheese is Roquefort. In fact, Roquefort has been labeled the cheese of kings and popes. It may be veined with Penicillium roqueforti (just a fancy word for a type of mold), but it has a regal presence upon the plate. Roquefort is a sheep’s milk cheese. It is soft, with a tangy taste, salty, and very smooth. While you would traditionally see it in dressings, I truly enjoy it spread on a cracker. The subject of crackers is a wholly different topic, but for the sake of brevity, an unassuming water cracker will let the flavors of Roquefort sing. However, a hearty, seedy, grainy cracker is also a delicious compliment.
The legend behind this cheese is a sweet one. It would appear that a shepherd was enjoying a luncheon repast shielded from the sun in a cave when a lovely maiden came walking by. Instantly struck with love for the lass, he abandoned his half eaten meal of bread and cheese in the cave to follow her. In the courtship, he forgot his meal, but time allowed this oversight to be a gift to mankind. For, when he returned to the cave, he found that his cheese had aged into the delectable Roquefort.
And since we are on the topic of bleu cheese, let’s talk about Valençay. This mold ripened, unpasteurized goat milk cheese from the province of Berry used to be shaped in a pyramid. But legend has it that when Napoleon returned to the castle at Valençay from his unsuccessful campaign against Egypt, he saw the pyramid upon its platter, and, in a fit of pique, drew his sword and cut off the top. Now, whether your Valençay cheese is served dusted with wood ash or vegetable ash, you can be sure that it will come in a truncated pyramidal shape rather than a proper pyramid. It would seem that Napoleon’s campaign, while unsuccessful, did have some lasting consequences, if only cheesy ones.
The aroma is goaty. The texture is runny, creamy, and/or smooth. The flavor is the most surprising to me; it’s citrusy, almost refreshing. Doesn’t that whet the appetite? There are two ways in which this cheese is made. If it is made on farms, it is coated with wood ash and called Valençay Fermier. If it is produced in a dairy, it is dusted with vegetable ash and is called Valençay Laitier. The rind of this cheese is naturally blue-grey, which is common among mold ripened cheese. The rind is darkened with a dusting of charcoal powder (wood or vegetable). In France, it is available between March and December, but the height of the season is between April and August.
In the spirit of Mr. Palomar, I offer Banon. Crusted in salt and pepper, aged in an earthenware vessel filled with eau-de-vie from the Banon region, and then wrapped in a chestnut leaf and tied with raffia, this unpasteurized goat milk cheese is artistically beautiful from start to finish. In 2003, Banon received AOC status. This cheese tradition dates back to the Gallo-Roman era. In years, that’s 50 B.C. to 486 A.D. That is a LONG heritage for a cheese to possess.
Now, not all producers of Banon age their cheese in earthenware. Some simply age it in a cool cellar and then dip the chestnut leaf in either vinegar or eau-de-vie and then wrap the cheese in it. That allows a blue-grey mold to form beneath the leaf and around the cheese which helps give Banon it’s strong aroma and woody, fruity flavor. Yet again, because it is unpasteurized (as are many of the great cheeses of the world), Banon isn’t available in the USA. However, when next you find yourself in France, search out this gorgeous cheese. Pair it with a fresh, crusty baguette, a sampling of seasonal fruits, and a dry, white wine.
P’tit Basque is a sheep’s cheese invented by shepherds in France’s Basque nestled in the Pyrenees Mountains. Traditionally, P’tit Basque was made from left over curds shepherds saved after milking their ewes. It is a semi-hard cheese with a smooth, creamy, dry finish and earthy, sweet, nutty flavor. Similar to Manchego, P’tit Basque develops a basket weave pattern on its outer skin as it ages for at least 70 days. While its flavor could be comparable to Manchego, it’s actually more mild and delicate.
This cheese is served in many ways. It’s a great snack on its own or alongside bread. It pares well with fruits or vegetables- particularly grilled veggies. It’s delicious with cured meats. You can even toss it in a salad. And because it’s made from pasteurized sheep’s milk, you can find it in the United States, too.
Boulette d’Avesnes derives its name from its shape (boulette-cone) and the region where it is produced (Avenes, a village on the French-Belgian border). Originally it was produced as a by-product of butter making. It is flavored with parsley, pepper, tarragon, and cloves. Later, it is shaped into a cone. Often it is sold fresh and needs to be eaten within 30 days. But Boulette d’Avesnes ages well in a cellar where it will develop a reddish hue. This color comes from the paprika. The flavor of this cheese is spicy and stinky. Where all of the cheese highlighted here today pair well with wine, Boulette d’Avesnes has such a robust and overpowering flavor that it is recommended to serve with gin or beer. If I were to partake of this fromage, I would search out the Belgian beer, Rodenbach Grand Cru, which is a revelation where beers are concerned. Tim Weber, a beer writer who specializes in Belgian beers, says,
“To understand Rodenbach Grand Cru, discard what you know of beer. Dismiss that it should be blonde, or have a head or not have ‘turned’.This 6% ABV brown ale, aged for two years in massive, pedestalled, oak tuns 200 to a cave, before blending to unmistakable familiarity, goes beyond tart into sour. It sits precariously at pH 3.2 like Sauvignon Blanc, yet draws more of a Cabernet Sauvignon crowd.Bottled bright to retain the delicate balance of grain and caramel, burn and edge, its uniquely ancient taste resonates across centuries of beer-making, outgunning the dangerous here-and-now of the craft brewer. Sharp.”
This description stuck with me from the moment I read it years back and, considering that Boulette d’Avesnes is produced on the Franco-Belgian border, I think this Belgian beer is just the thing to enjoy with it.
This small sampling of cheeses is merely but a single slice in the fromage universe. Perhaps, by and by, we can explore samplings from other corners of the world. (Italy comes to mind, but that, dear readers, will have to be another day. Oh, and there is the British Isle. And Wisconsin. And the Middle East… Alas, the list is long, but the future possibilities are endless.)
