The lovely Anna & Tony hosted an inspired wine and cheese soiree this evening. Much good cheese was had by all. No photos sadly as I completely forgot to take my camera out with me this morning, but hey, I just get to write more OTT description.
There were all sorts of weird and wonderful cheeses on the table. Having hit Selfridges food hall earlier in the week (how I love food halls) we took along the following international selection:
Starting off with France, bien sur, and a small round langres, oozingly soft and tres piquant to smell, but much more subtle when tasted. This is my favourite type of cheese (such as livarot, reblochon or, joy of joys, a ripe vacherin in season) although difficult to give house room to given the all-pervading odour and finicky requirements as to temperature and humidity. Best eaten quickly all in all. I love the thick, mottled, sunken rinds of these cheeses, which come from being washed with a range of substances during the affinage process: brine for the langres; cider, wine or brandy for others. Given the ammonia, you'd think they were washed with wee, and hell, I'd probably eat that if French cheesemakers recommended it... Walk into La Fromagerie in Islington and you will be whacked in the face with the overpowering aroma of this type of cheese ripening happily and begging to be taken home. Yum.
From Britain, or more precisely the Inner Hebrides, an Isle of Mull (Eileanan Mhuile in Scots Gaelic) hard cheese. Well aged - to the extent that it can develop blue veins from time to time as the piece I bought had - and very strong, but not in the searing, mouth-stripping way of extra mature supermarket cheddars. As an analogy, if those are shrieking violins, this is a rich, low note on the cello. Ah, such poetry from a humble cheese...
At the boyfriend's request, some Italian gorgonzola dolce - not my favourite as I prefer a more solid blue cheese, but he likes this well enough for both of us. It does amuse me that it's sold by the spoonful, scooped into a tub from a huge, broken-open cheese shell. This is younger, wetter and milder than full-grown gorgonzola.
Finally from Spain an aged but still zesty viejo manchego, made from the milk of the manchega sheep (the others are all cow's milk). Aren't sheep great? Wool and cheese!
The table groaned with bread, crackers, celery and fruit as accompaniments. And for a flourish, some beautiful, amber, glowing quince jelly. Gorgeous stuff and just perfect with the Isle of Mull as well as the manchego it's made for as carne de membrillo (quince meat). This only ever seems to be sold in huge chunks, far too much even for us cheese-fiends, so hopefully some will keep until my father brings back my promised smoked duck and rillettes from his trip to France, so that I can scoff the rest of the quince with those plus warm brioche.
If a rich benefactor ever wants to buy me a cheese-by-post subscription from Fromages.com, they should feel free...
Please note in contrast to the above, I really do not like melted cheese or cheese in things. I can just about tolerate mozzarella on pizza, but as a child I used to pull it all off and just eat the tomato-covered dough, and even now on trips to Italy I relish a good pizza marinara, just tomato and garlic with no cheese and no funny looks from fellow diners. The worst in my opinion has to be cheese melted over meat, ick. What a pointless addition of cholesterol to a steak. I was terribly disappointed that even the ultra-traditional Rules did this on a recent visit - my roe deer venison was meant to come with a stilton and pear salad (fine) but that translated to the plate as stilton in the salad and melted over the steak. Why? And fondue baffles me...
There were all sorts of weird and wonderful cheeses on the table. Having hit Selfridges food hall earlier in the week (how I love food halls) we took along the following international selection:
Starting off with France, bien sur, and a small round langres, oozingly soft and tres piquant to smell, but much more subtle when tasted. This is my favourite type of cheese (such as livarot, reblochon or, joy of joys, a ripe vacherin in season) although difficult to give house room to given the all-pervading odour and finicky requirements as to temperature and humidity. Best eaten quickly all in all. I love the thick, mottled, sunken rinds of these cheeses, which come from being washed with a range of substances during the affinage process: brine for the langres; cider, wine or brandy for others. Given the ammonia, you'd think they were washed with wee, and hell, I'd probably eat that if French cheesemakers recommended it... Walk into La Fromagerie in Islington and you will be whacked in the face with the overpowering aroma of this type of cheese ripening happily and begging to be taken home. Yum.
From Britain, or more precisely the Inner Hebrides, an Isle of Mull (Eileanan Mhuile in Scots Gaelic) hard cheese. Well aged - to the extent that it can develop blue veins from time to time as the piece I bought had - and very strong, but not in the searing, mouth-stripping way of extra mature supermarket cheddars. As an analogy, if those are shrieking violins, this is a rich, low note on the cello. Ah, such poetry from a humble cheese...
At the boyfriend's request, some Italian gorgonzola dolce - not my favourite as I prefer a more solid blue cheese, but he likes this well enough for both of us. It does amuse me that it's sold by the spoonful, scooped into a tub from a huge, broken-open cheese shell. This is younger, wetter and milder than full-grown gorgonzola.
Finally from Spain an aged but still zesty viejo manchego, made from the milk of the manchega sheep (the others are all cow's milk). Aren't sheep great? Wool and cheese!
The table groaned with bread, crackers, celery and fruit as accompaniments. And for a flourish, some beautiful, amber, glowing quince jelly. Gorgeous stuff and just perfect with the Isle of Mull as well as the manchego it's made for as carne de membrillo (quince meat). This only ever seems to be sold in huge chunks, far too much even for us cheese-fiends, so hopefully some will keep until my father brings back my promised smoked duck and rillettes from his trip to France, so that I can scoff the rest of the quince with those plus warm brioche.
If a rich benefactor ever wants to buy me a cheese-by-post subscription from Fromages.com, they should feel free...
Please note in contrast to the above, I really do not like melted cheese or cheese in things. I can just about tolerate mozzarella on pizza, but as a child I used to pull it all off and just eat the tomato-covered dough, and even now on trips to Italy I relish a good pizza marinara, just tomato and garlic with no cheese and no funny looks from fellow diners. The worst in my opinion has to be cheese melted over meat, ick. What a pointless addition of cholesterol to a steak. I was terribly disappointed that even the ultra-traditional Rules did this on a recent visit - my roe deer venison was meant to come with a stilton and pear salad (fine) but that translated to the plate as stilton in the salad and melted over the steak. Why? And fondue baffles me...
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