Grayson Returns!

by Austin Coe Butler

Like the vegetable world, cheese, too, follows the seasons. Spring brings the first, fresh cheeses like mushroomy bries with their ramp-like aromas and bone-white chèvres with their bright tang of mint, rhubarb, and radishes. Summer brings with it sweet, milk-laden mozzarella, juicy like a tomato, and the first aged cheeses. Alpines and Cheddars ripen with apples on autumn days, and as the weather cools, the flavors warm. Long winter nights settle in, and the bold, savory melters like Raclette are brought to the fire, truckles of Stilton are cracked open, and decadent, woodsy wheels of spruce-girdled Rush Creek Reserve, Winnimere, and Vacherin Mont d’Or are scooped from their rinds. Some cheeses are ephemeral, having only one season, while others have several. Among the greatest cheeses that follows its own seasons is Grayson.

Grayson is a humble, smear ripened cheese made by Meadow Creek Dairy in Galax, Virginia nestled in the southwestern Appalachian. Its rubrous hue and square shape immediately evoke Taleggio and other smear ripened cheeses. These smear ripened cheeses, soft cheeses that are “washed” in or smeared with a morge or brine, are celebrated for their funky, briny, meaty flavors, and their pungent aromas. There’s a good reason why: bacteria only found in marine environments are inexplicably found on these cheeses, along with various species of Brevibacterium, a genus of bacteria that thrive in damp, salty environments like smear ripened cheeses or… your feet! Grayson has all these flavors in its unique way. It is beefy, barn-yardy, and runny, with some of its best wheels reminding me of heavily larded refried pinto beans. But this is a description of winter Grayson. Summer Grayson is delectably different.

The folks at Meadow Creek Dairy are real American artisans. The Feete family began making cheese in 1998, and ever since then they’ve shown a dedication to their cows and their craft. Their cows are always on pasture, never confined, and they only graze on grass. They follow active grazing practices, rotating the cows from one pasture to the next to avoid overgrazing. Meadow Creek Dairy also keeps a closed herd of Jersey cows bred over the past thirty years specifically for their postage stamp of land in the Virginia highlands. Their cheesemakers work with minutes old milk that comes into the creamery straight from the milking parlor, and they let the raw, Jersey milk shine. All of Meadow Creek’s cheeses have a hallmark, vibrant, beta-carotene rich color from that beautiful milk. Meadow Creek celebrates the seasonal nature of their milk and cheese.

So while winter Grayson is stronger in flavor and softer in texture, summer Grayson is milder, tangier, firmer, and springier. The aroma is subtle, like yeasted bread, or the foamy head of an unfiltered beer. The flavors are bright, salty, and milky, while the paste retains a lovely buoyant bounce in the center and a supple creamline. Because of its milder nature, summer is a great time to try Grayson if you haven’t before or are unfamiliar with smear ripen cheeses. It can be paired alongside crisp whites and medium bodied reds, but it really deserves to be paired alongside a perspiring glass of frothy or Hefeweizen in the summer sun.

There’s always a hiatus with Grayson in the spring. The winter’s batches have been consumed, and while the cows rest and the grass grows, we wait. With the return of Grayson, we know summer has arrived! To celebrate its arrival with summer we’ll be sampling this cheese all weekend long, so stop by the shop to pick up a wedge!

(Real) American Cheese

By Austin Coe Butler

Did you know that May is American Cheese Month? No, we’re not celebrating that big block of orange stuff made by Kraft (which isn’t actually cheese), but real cheese made from curds and whey by artisans, families, and small producers! With the arrival of American Cheese Month along with the return of American Cheese Society's Judging and Competition to Minneapolis, I thought it would be worthwhile to write about how American cheese is unique and what the state of it is.

Prior to the arrival of European colonists, there was no cheese in the Americas. The mammals whose milk is best suited to make cheese—cows, sheep, goats, water buffalos, and yaks—were absent until the Columbian Exchange. Additionally, the indigenous populations, like the majority of the world’s population to this day, were lactose intolerant and had not developed the genetic mutation that allows some people to continue producing lactase, the enzyme responsible for breaking down the problematic milk sugar lactose after weaning. With the exception of llama milk, which was occasionally consumed by Andean cultures, no dairying traditions were present in the “New World.”

American cheese inherited its traditions from its historical patterns of immigration. The first cheeses in the Americas were made in Mexico by Spanish settlers. These fresh cheeses like queso fresco and queso Oaxaca were simple to make and could be consumed immediately. English pilgrims arriving in the Northeast brought with them the dairying traditions of butter and pressed, aged cheeses like Cheddar and Cheshire. Subsequent waves of immigration brought us Italian inspired cheeses like parmesan, German cheeses like Limburger,  and Mexican cheeses like Monterey, among others. 

America has been the source of many great innovations in cheese, but particularly in the production and aging of Cheddar. Owing to the hot, humid summers of the Northeast, British colonists found that their truckles of Cheddar and Cheshire would crack. They found that by wrapping or “bandaging” the cheeses in cloth—cheap, disposable, and readily available from the supply of cotton harvested by the enslaved on Southern plantations—helped limit the cracking, thus inventing the clothbound format that we often think of with English Cheddars, although they are very American. In the 19th and 20th century, petroleum products like paraffin wax and plastic vacuum bags created even better impermeable seals, allowing Cheddar to be aged for impossible timespans of twenty, thirty, or even forty years, opening up incredible new vistas of flavor. America was also home to the first cheese factory, a Cheddar factory in upstate New York founded in 1851 by Jesse Williams. Cheddar became a ubiquitous part of American life when it was included in welfare, eventually being enshrined in the American lexicon as slang for money. It was only in 2016 when Mozzarella, by way of our ravenous pizza consumption, usurped Cheddar as the most consumed cheese in America. 

American artisan cheese naturally has many of the qualities we like to associate our national identity. Unhinged by tradition and unbound by strict regulatory titles like PDOs or AOCs, American artisan cheese has an opened mindedness and freedom of expression when it comes to cheesemaking. You’ll see the rugged individualism so central to American mythology in the names of cheese; lacking the regional traditions of Europe like Roquefort, Parmigiano Reggiano, or Gruyère, you’ll find names like Pleasant Ridge Reserve, Midnight Moon, Humboldt Fog, or Pawlet. You’ll also find individual figures hailed as founders for the nascent farmhouse cheese industry like Judy Schad, Mary Keehan, and Laura Chenel of the “American goat ladies”, David and Cindy Major of Vermont Shepherd, or Marian Pollack and Marjorie Susman of the storied Orb Weaver Farm. 

While many American cheeses are inspired by European recipes and styles of cheese—much to the chagrin of European producers—American cheesemakers are able to use them as a point of departure. Take Pleasant Ridge Reserve for example, an Alpine cheese inspired by the tradition of European alpage, but made in Wisconsin, with cows bred for a postage stamp of pasture in Dodgeville to make milk that becomes cheese and, ultimately, an expression of American terroir. There are also some incredible experiments going on right now like the Cornerstone Project to create the first truly “American Cheese,” which we carry from Cato Corner.

America is the fastest growing market for artisan cheese in the world, and there’s good reason why the giants of European fromagerie greedily eye American producers, as the recent acquisitions of artisan doyennes Cyprus Grove and Cowgirl Creamery by the Swiss Emmi AG shows. In 2016 with the crowning of Rogue River Blue as the “World’s Best Cheese,” American cheese arrived on the global stage to the scandal of Europe. Like the dream pursued by so many here, American cheese is filled with limitless potential, in addition to incredible stories and flavors. To celebrate American cheese, we’re promoting cheese from all over the country, from Minnesota, Wisconsin, Iowa, to California, Vermont, Connecticut, and, heck, even Tennessee, with a 15% discount. Come to the shop to sample some American cheeses and discover what makes our cheeses so delicious and unique!

Want to more know and try some of the best cheeses America has to offer? Join us in our gorgeous new events space on June 20th for our class on American Artisan Cheese!

Hand-Pulled Mozzarella: Your Weekly Cheese Lesson

by Austin Coe Butler

Mozzarella season is my favorite season, and for those of you who have enjoyed our fresh mozzarella, I bet it’s your favorite season, too. Its return to the shop is a sign that Spring has arrived—no matter how dazed.

Mozzarella is a pasta filata style of cheese, meaning “stretched curd” or “spun paste.” This name is demonstrative of how cheeses in this style are made: starting with curd, boiling water is added until the curd begins to melt or stretch into an elastic “paste,” at which point it is pulled into strands and formed into a variety of shapes. At the scientific level, the boiling water loosens the (casein) protein structure, aligning them into strands with pockets of fat and whey in between. Burrata, provolone, scamorza, caciocavallo, string cheese, and many other cheeses from around the world are made following this technique.

Mozzarella takes its name from mozzare meaning “to cut, chop” and that’s exactly how this cheese is made. Those long “threads” are bundled into a ball and then “cut” by hand. Mozzarella as we know it originated in southern Italy, with written records dating from the 16th, but undoubtedly it and other pasta filata cheeses have been around for much longer. The Italians would call our mozzarella fior di latte as it is made from cow’s milk. The title of mozzarella in Italy is reserved for water buffalo’s milk.

Because of its elastic nature, mozzarella can be formed into a variety of shapes, from simple ciliegene (small, cherry sized balls), tied in knots (nodini), or woven into braids (treccia). Master casaros can sculpt the cheese into little pigs, pacifiers, even the divinely inspired Treccia di Santa Croce di Magliano, a shawl woven from mozzarella. Among the most impressive are maybe Georgian tenili cheeses. Then there are the stuffed cheese like the suggestively shaped, milk filled zizzone, or la filiata, a “pregnant” mozzarella filled with smaller balls of mozzarella.

Without divulging my secrets, here is how I make fresh mozzarella at France 44. On Friday and Saturday mornings I break up the cold blocks of firm curd by hand in a large bowl. Then, I pour over boiling brine and cover the bowl with a lid, waiting a few minutes for the curd to temper. Once the curd is warm, I pour off most of the brine and add new brine to the bowl. At this point, the magic of mozzarella begins. Working quickly with a large paddle, I start to twirl the curd, plying it onto the paddle and lifting it into the air, high above my head. Thin, thread-like strands begin to form immediately and draw out as a beautiful waterfall-like sheet of curd unfurls. I do this only about twice to work most of the lumps out. It’s important to not overwork the curd as this can lead to squeaky, tough mozzarella. Just as perilous is melting the curd with too much boiling water.

Then I plunge my (clean!) bare hands into the boiling brine and quickly pull the threads into a tight ball before cutting it free from the rest of the mozzarella by pinching my thumb and forefinger closed. I wrap the hot mozzarella in plastic wrap and let it sit while I continue to pull the rest of the batch. As it cools, the mozzarella retains its spherical shape. (The traditional way to reserve fresh mozzarella is to leave it in brine—but this isn’t practical for us.) The actual process of making mozzarella takes less than a minute. Of course, I have to sample the mozzarella to make sure the seasoning is right, and as it’s often the first thing I eat in the morning along with my coffee, I’ve found that mozzarella and black coffee is quite a nice pairing, almost like having a bit of cream.

I’ll typically make a few burrata as well, adding truffles, nuts, herbs, or seasonal fruit to the stracciatella filling that goes inside burrata. Sometimes I’ll make a sfoglia for the staff to eat, a popular snack at caseificios wherein mozzarella is stretched into a sheet covered in prosciutto, arugula, balsamic vinegar, or whatever filling you like, then rolled tightly and cut into slices to be eaten by hand.

Fresh mozzarella is best enjoyed on the day it was made and at room temperature, preferably the same day it was made. If I don’t devour it immediately, I leave it out on my cool kitchen counter away from the sun for 24-48 hours. Refrigeration prolongs the life of fresh mozzarella for about a week, but at the cost of the cheese’s texture and flavor—that supple, buoyant spring tightens up and the milky brine is soaked back into the cheese. Of course, fresh mozzarella is great in all the traditional applications: in a sandwich, on a pizza, in a caprese salad with ripe tomatoes, basil, and balsamic vinegar. But consider trying it in something new this year, like supplì al telefono, or garnished with chili crisp or a smoky, spicy salsa macha. It’s delicate, milky flavor makes it highly versatile. 

If you haven’t made fresh mozzarella before, I encourage you to take a mozzarella making class with me this summer! Without a doubt these classes are the most fun I have at France 44. We dunk our hands into scalding hot water, stretching and spinning the cheese, screaming with laughter, all while Italian retro hits from the 70s blare in the background. At the end, we eat the fruits of our labor. Everyone, no matter how filled with trepidation or self-doubt, always leaves having made fresh mozzarella they share with their friends and family. I have to say, to this day my best student has been an eleven year old girl! You know who you are! 

We frequently sell out of fresh mozzarella and burrata, so I’d encourage you to stop by the shop as early as you can to pick up one of these soft, still warm, balls of mozzarella.

Minnesota Cheeses

By Austin Coe Butler

When it comes to cheese, Minnesota is often outshined by the bright, milky star of its neighbor, Wisconsin. There’s a reason Wisconsin is called “America’s Dairyland” after all, with its storied history of dairying and cheesemaking powered by the “Wisconsin Idea,” massively influential milk and cheese lobbies, and a rigorous Master Cheesemaker program. It’s one of the few states you can make a decent living making cheese. But Minnesota has its own remarkable history of cheesemaking, and today many incredible local cheesemakers are producing some of the best and most innovative cheeses in the country.

For instance, did you know that America’s first blue cheese was made here in Minnesota nearly two-hundred years ago? The greater St. Paul area was once known as the Blue Cheese Capital of America. When the St. Peter’s Sandstone was glaciated thousands of years ago, intricate limestone caves were formed. Being porous, limestone is ideal for aging cheeses, and there’s a reason why the legendary ewe’s milk blue cheese Roquefort originated in the ancient limestone caverns of Roquefort-sur-Soulzon. These caves are stilled used today by the Caves of Faribault.

Joe Sherman cut his cheesemaking teeth in those very same caves when he was 19 back in the 1980s. In 2005, he founded Northern Lights in Plato, Minn., about 50 miles west of the Twin Cities. Joe only makes 100 wheel batches of his Northern Lights Blue from fresh, unpasteurized milk from a local herd of cows that grazes on pasture year round. Its bright, peppery, and salty flavor and crumbly yet creamy texture are the hallmarks of a classic American blue cheese that is right at home in blue cheese dressing, on a steak, or by itself.

Redhead Creamery in Brooten makes the petite American brie Little Lucy and spicy Red Temper Cheddar, which you may have see at the State Fair with a ribbon pinned to it. The Little Lucys are perfect for a twosome or a picnic with their creamy, lemony brightness that’s a bit more mellow than your French bries. Redhead Creamery just won an award from the Dairy Business Innovation Alliance (DBIA) for their venture to get artisan cheesemakers into the artisan alcohol market by making fermented whey beverages more accessible to smaller producers.

Alemar Cheese, founded by Kieth Adams here in Minneapolis in 2008, immediately gained acclaim for their first cheese, the Camembert-style Bent River (which you’ll find in our case as the smaller Boom Island.) Their washed-rind Good Thunder is funky, fudgy, and barn-yardy in all the right ways. Alemar Cheese now operates out of the Food Building in NE Minneapolis. Apricity, their newest cheese, is a bright, lactic-set cheese that immediately became a staff favorite with its tangy flavor and mousse-like texture. Charlotte Serino, the head cheesemaker, has been making some big waves on the national stage with her cheeses!

And of course there’s Shepherd’s Way in Nerstrand, run by Stephen and Jodi Ohlsen Read. We currently have their aged sheep’s milk tomme Friesago, which will transport you to the Tuscan countryside, the decadent, brie-like Hidden Falls, and Big Woods Blue.

We’ll be celebrating Minnesota cheese and cheesemakers all weekend long, so stop by the shop to try some home-state heroes!

Fermier Jouvence

By Austin Coe Butler

To the despair of some of our customers, you can’t get a “real” French Camembert in the United States, and by “real” they mean a camembert made with raw, unpasteurized milk. Raw milk is hard to come by in the US, and currently the FDA has a federal prohibition on the sale of raw milk cheeses under 60 days of age. That’s why, with the very special exception of one cheese, when you look at our case all the soft cheese is pasteurized. But I’m convinced that the soft cheeses we carry from Ferme de Jouvence are the closest you can get to a “real,” raw French Camembert or Brie in the United States, and they’re a revelation to most people.

What sets these cheeses apart from others it the way they are made. The French have a unique classification system for cheese. Cheeses from Ferme de Jouvence are fermier, or farmhouse, meaning that the cheese is made on the same farm where the milk comes from. It’s generally regarded as one of the highest quality standards, signifying that everything from rearing and milking the animals to making the cheese and maturing it all takes place on the farm. But to call these cheeses fermier is almost an understatement, because Ferme de Jouvence is dedicated to a holistic approach to the whole process of agriculture.

Situated in the small commune of La Boissière-École alongside the Rambouillet forest, just 25 miles southwest of Paris, Ferme de Jouvence has been family run and operated for generations and is home to about 150 cows and 400 goats. The name of the farm, Ferme de Jouvence, translates roughly to “Farm of Rejuvenation” and they are committed to organic, regenerative farming practices. The landscape of the farm is dominated by chestnuts, oaks, and firs, providing shade to the animals in the summer. Fields of cereal grains, white mustard, daikon, alfalfa, and buckwheat are grown in succession to promote soil health and provide fodder for the animals. Their rich, whole milk is used within 12 hours of milking to make cheese. The farm also utilizes a “methanizer,” which resembles a large bladder that collects methane from the animals’s manure and converts it into biogas to power the farm and organic fertilizer to rejuvenate the fields, which in turn feeds the animals, is turned into milk, then cheese, and so on again and again. 

Ferme de Jouvence does not need to export their cheese. They could easily sell all their cheese locally, and importing such a small amount of cheese to the United States must be a legal and logistical nightmare for them. But by their mercy or beneficence they have decided to export cheese to us, and the difference in flavor and quality is worth it. 

If you’ve only ever had Brillat Savarin, Delice de Bourgogne, or Fromage d’Affinois, more modern, refined double and triple crèmes, I encourage you to try Ferme de Jouvence’s Brie Fermier or Camembert Fermier. (For those of you wondering what the difference between brie and camembert is, it mostly comes down to size: camemberts tend to be small rounds between 5-8 inches while bries can be large, shield-like disks.) They both have a rich, buttery paste like good French salted butter and, owing to the mold Penicilium camemberti on the rind, they have a distinct, complex aroma of freshly cut broccoli, snapped asparagus, or crimini mushrooms still with some dirt from the forest floor on them. Recently, when I included Brie Fermier in a class, the students' reaction to trying this cheese was marked by audible gasps and jubilant exclamations!

Ferme de Jouvence also makes three other cheeses. For those looking for a more mild entry point into the world of French farmstead cheeses, consider Ferme de Jouvence’s St. Jacques, a step up from Fromage d’Affinois in terms of flavor with a little bit of a cultured butter flavor. Ferme de Jouvence also makes a goat Camembert, Jouvenceau, which is one of the creamiest goat cheeses I’ve ever had and a great substitute for your typical Camembert. They also make an ash-rinded goat blue cheese called Persillé de Chevre, with a fudgey texture and a nice balance of blue spice and goat pepperiness.

Swiss Cheese: Beyond the Deli Slice

by Austin Coe Butler

When we think of Swiss cheese in the United States, we might think of a pale, thin slice of cheese with holes in it that tastes like plastic and is not that dissimilar from its parody on the receiving end of a mousetrap. We might also think of a bubbling pot of fondue or blistered raclette. We might even be able to name one cheese, Gruyère. This is the sum total of Swiss cheese for most Americans. The Swiss, though, have an august tradition of making a rich diversity of cheeses that rivals that of the French and were it not for the actions of a nefarious cheese cartel our associations with Swiss cheese would be much more bountiful.

The stark geography of the grand and imposing Swiss Alps led to the creation of hundreds of distinct, regional cheeses. Many of these traditional cheeses fall under the category of “Alpine” or cooked, pressed cheeses. The harsh winters and relative isolation of settlements required farmers to band together and pool their milk to create huge wheels of Gruyère, Emmental, and Sbrinz that could be eaten throughout the winter. During the Alpine cheesemaking process, the curd is cooked at a high temperature and cut finely to the size of a pea to drive more liquid whey out of the curd. Then the curd is pressed into moulds to drive even more whey out. Cheeses with high moisture in them spoil quickly and large cheeses especially can rot from the inside, bulge with gas, and then “heave” or explode! Some Swiss cheesemakers mastered this art though, as in Emmental or “Swiss,” which has a distinct bulge in its wheel and large holes or eyes from the gas produced by a specific bacteria, Proprionibacteria.

Another unique feature of Swiss cheese is the access to incredible mountain pastures in the summer. High on the mountainsides, when the snow has melted, vibrant meadows become accessible. Owing to a scarcity of farmland, shepherds took their flocks from the valleys onto the mountainsides to forage these wild, mountain pastures comprised of herbs, wildflowers, and grasses and found they produced some of the finest milk, butter, and cheese. This act of transhumance, the high altitude meadows, and the composition of pasture, all came to be known as Alpage.

The isolation of each each Alp or Alpage ensures that they have their own unique style of cheese with its own terroir. Speaking about terroir and cheese may sound farcical to some, but cheese is an incredibly dynamic food. We once carried two wheels of Gruyère Alpage from opposite sides of the same valley and the difference in flavor between them left some incredulous: one was deeply savory, like sugar cured bacon and caramelized onions, while the other was delicate in flavor, with a fruitiness and subtle tang like a fine alpine strawberry.

How then did this incredible tradition and regional diversity of cheese become so debased? The Schweizerei Käseunion (Swiss Cheese Union). Many refer to it as the Swiss Cheese Cartel because it operated like a cartel. It exerted total control over every facet of cheese production in Switzerland from marketing at home and abroad to quality control enforcement and price regulation. They benefitted from keeping prices high and competition low, producing and promoting primarily Emmental, Gruyère, Sbrinz, and Appenzeller, while actively discouraging the production of other lesser known cheeses, let alone newly invented ones. They purposefully mislabeled lower quality cheeses bound for the export market to demand a higher price. The Swiss Cheese Cartel is responsible for our associations with Emmental as “Swiss” cheese, as they had large stockpile of old Emmental they needed to move and in turn led an aggressive marketing campaign of fondue in Switzerland as well as abroad. Melting cheese in a pot is a very old tradition for many people, but what we distinctly think of as “fondue” is also the confabulation of the Swiss Cheese Union. (The proliferation of the term fondue also led to the creation of chocolate fondue which was made to sell, surprise, a Swiss chocolate, Toblerone.)

In 1999, though, the Swiss Cheese Cartel buckled under a corruption scandal and Swiss cheesemakers were free to return to their traditional cheeses and innovate new ones. Independent cheese makers like Walter Räss, Jumi, the Tschudi family, and importers like Caroline Hofstettler through her program Adopt an Alp, are all doing their part to restore and preserve the vibrant tradition of cheesemaking in Switzerland.

What better weekend to celebrate Swiss cheese than one where we’re buried in so much snow it feels like we’re on an Alp? Strap on your snowshoes and trudge into the shop this week to try some fabulous Swiss cheese, all 15% off through Sunday! 

L'amuse Signature Two-Year Gouda: An Unexpected Marriage

by Sophia Stern

Why we love the cheese 

 It’s rare for a gouda aged for as long as L’Amuse Signature to have such a wonderful texture without compromising flavor. The paste is full of satisfying, crunchy crystals, but isn’t too firm or too dry. The addictive flavors of caramel and butterscotch are balanced with the cheese’s acidity, preventing this gouda from eating too sweet.  

Why we love the wine 

Champalou Vouvray is an elegant and highly drinkable wine. Made by a couple who come from a long lineage of winemakers, this 100% Chenin Blanc Loire Valley wine is acidic and bright, with notes of pear and green apple. There’s just enough earthy complexity to round the wine out, offering a smooth and delicious drinking experience.  

Why we love the pairing 

A white wine and an aged gouda are not the most common pairing, but we promise this really works. The slightly surprising acidity of the gouda mellows the acidity of the Vouvray. The dry wine also rounds out the sweeter notes in the cheese, without erasing them. And most importantly, the body of the wine allows those craveable crystals to continue to crunch.  

What else you should do with it   

Our favorite way to enjoy this gouda is with a drizzle of caramel, preferably the Fat Toad Farm Goat’s Milk Caramel. If you want to go the extra mile, pair a bite of caramel and gouda with a spoonful of your favorite vanilla ice cream. 

Gouda

by Austin Coe Butler

After several years behind the France 44 cheese counter and talking with customers, I think I can make the following observation: our Dutch customers purchase the most cheese and in stately three or even four pound wedges. The Dutch love of dairy is long founded, and a typical Dutch breakfast is often a glass of milk, a slice of buttered toast, and chunk of cheese. Julius Caesar observed, with disdain, that the Dutch had no agriculture and merely ate the meat and milk of their animals (the hallmark signs of barbarism). But Dutch ingenuity led to the creation dykes and polders, plots of land claimed from the seafloor by the pumps in their windmills to create arable lands to graze animals and grow crops. Now, despite being the size of Maryland, the Netherlands’s is the second largest exporter of food after the United States. The ingenuity of the Dutch also lead to the creation of one of the world’s favorite cheeses: Gouda.

One of the earliest challenges for Dutch cheesemakers were “hoven,” or exploding, cheeses. Due to their northern latitude and maritime climate, the Netherlands has wet summers that prevent the curing of hay. Instead, the damp fodder collected in the field begins to ferment and turn to silage, which is fine for cows to eat, but the microbacteria responsible for this unwanted fermentation can pass into the milk and create off flavors in the cheese and even gas, causing cheeses to bulge and burst. English cheesemakers encountered a similar problem and responded by cheddaring cheeses, while the Dutch settled on a defining characteristic of goudas: secondary washing of the curd.

This process involves pouring off the whey from the curds and adding fresh, hot water to the vat. This fresh, hot water not only scalds the curd, driving out more whey and moisture but removes lactose, which lactic bacteria convert into lactic acid, and creates a milder, sweeter curd. Curd washing not only gives goudas their complex sweet flavors ranging from coconut milk and marzipan to butterscotch and aged soy sauce, but the drier texture that allowed wheels of Gouda to travel across the world when the Dutch were the leading European Empire in the 16th and 17th centuries.

Like many cheeses bearing the name of a place, Goudas were likely not invented in the town of Gouda (HOW-da), but they were certainly consumed by a lot of people passing through there. Back in the 12th century, Gouda was one of the few municipalities given the exclusive right to weigh and sell cheese and became a bustling trade hub. You can still visit its picturesque cheese market that is open on Thursdays to watch cheese traders in wooden klompen sell their wares. While no one in the shop wears wooden klompen (do Danskos count?), we are open every day and have an impressive selection of Goudas to choose from:

Our Selection of Goudas:

L’Amuse Brabander

A goat milk gouda that is easily our most popular goat cheese. The secondary washing of this gouda takes away that goat gaminess that some people dislike and leaves you with a mild tang and a coconut milk like creaminess and marzipan sweetness making it an excellent gateway into the world of goat cheeses. If you’re a fan of Midnight Moon, you must try Brabander!

Coolea

An Irish gouda of Dutch extraction. Made in the mountain village of Coolea in Co. Cork, Ireland, by the Willem family, this Gouda has a remarkable flavor and texture of toasted macadamia or Brazil nuts.

L’Amuse Signature Two-Year

A customer favorite loaded with crunchy tyrosine crystals and big brown butter and salted caramel flavors. In an act of true cheese brinkmanship, the opeleggers at Fromagerie L’Amuse in Amsterdam age this cheese in rooms with high heat and humidity to increase the metabolism of the microbes in the cheeses that create those crystals and huge, complex flavors.

Wilde Weide

A Platonic Gouda. Well balanced between the creamy, savory aspects of young Goudas and crystally, sweet flavors of aged Goudas, Wilde Weide ticks all the boxes for what you want in a Gouda. Wilde Weide is not just a Gouda, but holds the distinction of Boeerenkase or “Farm cheese,” meaning the cheese is made from organic raw milk in the historical artisanal manner on the farm the milk comes from. Jan and Roos van Schie live on their small three-hundred year old “island,” or polder, with their herd of 42 Montbeliard cows, their cheese, and no one else. Roos is a trained opera singer who serenades the cheese as they are “put it to bed” in the cellar to mature, and when the cheese “wakes up” Jan loads them onto a dingy and rows them to shore and takes them to market. A great story for a great cheese.

OG Kristal

Similar to the L’Amuse Signature Two-Year Gouda, but because of its shorter maturation period (18 month), it is creamier than the Two-Year, without skimping on the crunch. The candy apple red rinds are a staple of our shop, and usually when someone comes in asking about “the crystals” we steer them towards this cheese.

Old Farmdal

They send this cheese to the International Space Station! Necessity is the mother of invention, and it was during a shortage of OG Kristal (OGK) that the wizards at  Kaasboerderij’T Groendal (Kahss–BOOR-deh-LAY TRUN-dahl) in Belgium devised this recipe for a cheese like OGK but with a maturation time of only 9 months. The result is a cheese that is creamier than OGK, with a bit more of a milky tang.

Marieke Gouda

Marieke Penterman’s Gouda are loved throughout her adopted country of the United States. This Marieke Gouda we carry is our youngest Gouda and is ideal on sandwiches, melted, or simply snacked on. Its texture is springy and buoyant with bright, milky flavor.

Carles Roquefort

Maison Carles Roquefort 

Austin Coe Butler

Just in time for your holiday cheeseboards, we’re promoting two of the most celebrated and storied sheep’s milk cheeses France has to offer: Ossau-Iraty and Roquefort. Ossau-Iraty is a phenomenally creamy Basque sheep’s milk cheese with a lovely roasted chestnut sweet and savory balance. It’s undoubtedly a shop favorite, and I’ve written about it several times. With that in mind, I’d like to write to you about a cheese you may have had in the past and might fear, Roquefort.

Roquefort is a spicy, salty, sheep’s milk blue from Roquefort-sur-Soulzon in France’s southernmost region Occitanie. It was reputedly the favored cheese of Charlemagne, and is one of the several warring “Kings of Cheese,” alongside Parmigiano Reggiano, Stilton, and Brie de Meaux. The village of Roquefort-sur-Soulzon sits atop the Causse du Larzac, an immense limestone karst plateau. Owing to the dry, rocky limestone soil, the land is difficult to till and poor to farm. It is far better suited to the grazing of Lacaune sheep, whose meat, milk, and wool have provided all people needed for centuries. The karsts in the Causse du Larzac are labyrinthine tunnel systems that form in limestone as water dissolves the rock, creating sprawling hypogean landscapes like the Cambalou Caves where Roquefort is aged.

Four stories below the village, deep in the rock, the Combalou Caves have been converted into century old cellars. These cellars are cavernous and resemble a subterranean great hall of a Dwarven kingdom. Generation after generation, they have been maintained and built out with limestone bricks and massive wooden pillars for support. Wooden shelves laden with Roquefort stretch into the darkness of the caves.

The Combalou Caves are special due to the fleurines, or fissures, in the rock that allow the north winds to move through the caves. Dark, damp, and cool, it’s the ideal environment for cheese to follow its trajectory of controlled spoilage and encourage the metabolism of microbes that break down the cheese to thrive. Cheesemakers like Rogue River Creamery have gone so far as to imitate the climate of these caves, and Robin Congdon, the maker of Beenleigh Blue went so far as to bring material from the Combalou Caves to his own aging facility. But while these imitations yield incredible cheeses, none of these cheeses are quite the same as Roquefort. In fact, most blue cheeses, including Stilton, Gorgonzola, and Maytag are made with blue mold that originated from Roquefort and bears its name, Penicilium roqueforti. 

The apocryphal origin of Roquefort, and many other blue cheeses, it must be noted, goes something like this: a shepherd takes shelter in a cave to enjoy his meal of bread and cheese when he sees a beautiful woman. He forgets himself (and his lunch) and rushes off to pursue her. (In some stories the shepherd sees a band of bandits and flees.) Some time later he returns to the cave and finds his forlorn lunch now covered with blue mold. He decides to nibble on the cheese and is rewarded for his bravery. I don’t need to tell you this story is fake, not least of all because it rests upon the common misconception that blue mold originates or comes from inside a cave. P. roqueforti is found exclusively on plant and animal matter like wheat (bread) or the udder of a sheep (cheese). In fact, the majority of beneficial microflora found in cheese comes from the animal’s udder. Additionally, a 2019 study noted the absence of P. roqueforti from the Combalou caves. But the caves are ideal for the mold to reproduce and sporulate on cheese, breaking down the fatty acids in the cheese to create butyric acids that give Roquefort its signature spiciness. 

Roquefort is one of the oldest named cheeses mentioned in recorded history. Pliny referenced cheese from this region in 79 CE, but it’s not until 1070, when it is documented as a donation to a local monastery. Roquefort was the first cheese to receive legal protection in 1411 when King Charles VI, the Beloved or the Mad, depending on which of his moods or psychotic episodes you caught him in, granted the residents of Roquefort-sur-Soulzon the sole right of producing and ripening Roquefort cheese after a dispute with neighboring villages. This legal protection for a product made within a geographic designation was the inspiration for the Appelation d’Origine Contrôlée (AOC) system adopted by France in 1925 and later became the Protected Designation of Origin (PDO) scheme of the European Union. Roquefort now has several strict production guidelines, most importantly of which is that the cheese must be aged in the Combalou Caves.

The production of Roquefort is now a multi-million dollar industry. There are only seven producers, most notably Société, who produce 70% of Roquefort, Papilion, and Gabriel Coullet. Real estate in in the village is too expensive and there is simply no room to do anything except age cheese. Attempts to recreate the centuries old cellars have failed, so production space is coveted. There are only about 200 people who now live in Roquefort-sur-Soulzon.

If you have had Roquefort in the past it was likely made by one of the massive corporations. Industrial Roquefort can taste bitter, almost tinny or metallic, and it often turns people off from the cheese. I implore you to try our Roquefort, which is made by Maison Carles. Founded in 1922 and spanning three generations, Maison Carles is the smallest exporter of Roquefort. They still follow the traditions of making Roquefort, going so far as to buy loaves of wheat and rye bread from a local bakery to be left in the caves and become inoculated with P. roqueforti. This moldy bread is pulverized and used it as the inoculate for their cheese. All their cheese is made by hand, giving it a delicate creamy and crumbly texture that imitates the appearance of the Combalou Caves. Unlike other producers of Roquefort, Maison Carles strictly uses milk from their own farm. These practices are rewarded with a Roquefort that is subtler and creamier than any other Roquefort.

These traditional practices also saved them a massive headache. In the 1990s, food safety inspectors from the European Union arrived at the Combalou Caves and were appalled by what they found: cheese, wet and slippery, resting on porous wooden shelves coated with mold. Brussels issued a mandate for a switch to plastic shelving which all producers complied with except for Jacques Carles, the owner at the time, who claimed that wood was essential for the maturation of the cheese. He was vindicated when those who made the switch found the plastic shelving had a deleterious impact on the flavor of their Roquefort, and they all switched back to wood. Maison Carles is now run by Jacques’s daughter, Delphine, who is the only female maitre affineur in France.

You may be familiar with the pairing of Stilton and Port for the Holidays, but personally I prefer Roquefort and Banyuls, a dessert wine made just a few miles from Roquefort-sur-Soulzon on France’s southeastern coast. What grows together goes together. Use Roquefort to stuff your olives for the most decadent blue cheese olives you’ve ever had. Roquefort pairs exceptionally with the abundant variety of pears and apples in the markets and is right at home alongside some butter lettuce, walnuts, and pears in a salad. Roquefort is the perfect cheese to add to your holiday cheese board. Whereas many of our lovely holiday cheeses are rich and caramel sweet from their extra-aged profile, Roquefort brings a much needed spiciness and saltiness. Who knows, it may just be the thing that keeps you awake after your fourth mug of eggnog.

Any cheese you buy now will be in great shape for your Christmas cheese boards, so don’t delay and stop into the shop to beat the Holiday rush and save 15% off these two fabulous French sheep’s milk cheeses!

The Cheeses of Neal's Yard Dairy

Austin Coe Butler

Like British cheese in the 1970s, the little alleyway of London’s Covent Garden neighborhood known as Neal’s Yard was in a sorry state. Dilapidated and grown over with ivy, many of the buildings on Neal’s Yard had their windows smashed in or boarded up. The courtyard itself was littered with trash, infested with rats, and a lavatory for tramps. It was the perfect street to start an alternative wholefoods cooperative. At 2 Neal’s Yard, Nicholas Saunders decided to do just that. It was called simply Neal’s Yard Wholefoods Warehouse, and it sold a humble assortment of nuts, pulses, honey, and herbal remedies.

Saunders was an activist, writer, and entrepreneur, highly active in London’s alternative scene. Many of the alternative ideas Saunders believed in were eccentrically embodied in aspects of the business. Goods were priced transparently with individual charges for labor, packaging, and cost handwritten on them. A “human counterweight system” requiring the user(s) to hold onto a rope and leap from the second story window to haul goods from the street was used. There was a water powered clock on the shop’s frontage and a coin-operated animated wooden sculpture inside, both designed by Tim Hunkin.

Neal’s Yard Wholefoods Warehouse was an immediate financial success, and over the next three years an apothecary, bakery, flour mill, coffee shop, and dairy were added on. Many of these became successful businesses in their own right: the apothecary became Neal’s Yard Remedies, the coffee shop became Monmouth Coffee, and, of course, the dairy became not just Neal’s Yard Dairy, the premier cheese shop and wholesaler of British cheeses, but also Neal’s Yard Creamery.

Neal’s Yard Dairy (henceforth simply Neal’s Yard) was opened in the summer of 1979 under Randolph Hodgson. The hopes of the dairy were to make ice cream, Greek yogurt (the first to be sold in the UK), and soft cheeses. One of their first customers was none other than John Cleese, but on that morning they had only yogurt, and, in a surreal moment of life imitating art, they were unable to sell any cheese to Mr. Cleese. After the initial success of the ice cream in the summer, the dreary English winter soon snubbed sales, and Hodgson decided it might be wise to get some hard cheeses into the shop: Cheddar, Stilton, and Cheshire.

It was difficult to find traditional, farmstead cheeses being made in Britain at this time. Many of the rich territorial cheeses had gone extinct during the past century of war, industrialization, and regulation under the Milk Marketing Board. There were a handful of farmers still making artisanal cheese, but these cheeses were primarily sold locally. One had to know the right people and try the right cheese to find what real British cheese tasted like as opposed to factory produced Cheddar or commodity Wensleydale. Hodgson struck up a friendship with someone who could do just that, an eccentric, retired Major turned shopkeeper, Patrick Rance.

Rance lived one of those great twentieth century lives: Born at the end of the First World War, his father was a vicar to dairy workers in east London, and by the start of the Second World War Rance had been promoted to Major in the British Army at the age of 24. He took place in the battle of Anzio, served in intelligence in Vienna in the immediate post-war years, and could speak French, Polish, German, Italian, and Swedish, in addition to his hobbies as an amateur classical musicologist, lepidopterist, bacteriologist, and Shakespearian. He wore a signature monocle, an anachronism even for his time. Since childhood, he had a love of traditional British cheeses and wrote with the fervor and exaltation of a crusader about the value real British cheese had not just in terms of flavor, but culture as well. His books on British and French cheese remain some of the best written not just on cheese, but food at large. After the War, Rance bought a small store called Wells Shop in 1953 and grew its offerings of cheese. By the time Neal’s Yard was selling just Cheddar, Stilton, and Cheshire, Rance’s small Berkshire shop was selling over 200 varieties of cheese at this time, many of which were traditional, farmstead British cheeses that Rance personally drove hours to collect. Rance and Hodgson shared a mutual appreciation for each others passion and curiosity and were both eager to support real British cheese and the people making it.

It was in this endeavor, the pursuit and encouragement of family and fledgling farmstead cheesemakers, that Neal’s Yard excelled. Montgomery’s Cheddar and Appleby’s Cheshire, two of the finest British cheeses being produced today, were greatly popularized by Neal’s Yard. Neal’s Yard encouraged Joe Schneider in the creation of Stichelton and many other new cheesemakers who were trying to resurrect traditional cheeses or invent new ones. Their original, cramped Neal’s Yard shop has turned into shops at Covent Garden, Borough Market, Islington, and Bermondsey, in addition to impressive maturation facilities and a dedicated creamery. Their expert affinage is accompanied by vigilant tastings with notes of each and every batch of cheese they sell. As the premier exporter and champion of British and Irish cheeses, the benefits of their enthusiasm are shared with us as well. All of our British and Irish cheeses come from Neal’s Yard.

Stop by the shop this weekend to celebrate Neal’s Yard and the many fantastic British cheeses they provide us with!

We have a rotating selection of cheese from Neal’s Yard Dairy. Our current offerings include:

Cheddar

Isle of Mull Cheddar a clothbound Scottish Cheddar that is by turns spicy, boozy, and malty from the fermented grains from local distilleries the cows feast on or briny with an umami savoriness from the salty, rich pastures they graze on in the summer. This cheese is as wild as the rugged Isle it comes from.

Westcombe Cheddar is a veritable clothbound Somerset Cheddar. Bright, bold, grassy, with a supple buttery texture and a nice backbone of acidity.

Territorials

Gorwyd Caerphilly is a Welsh cheese made by the Trethowan brothers, who also produce Pitchfork Cheddar. Pronounced “GOR-with CARE-philly,” the velveteen, mushroomy rind on this cheese gives way to a rich cream line and a crumbly, lemony center. A minerally, yogurty brightness blends with flavors of earth, grass, and moss. It was popular among coalminers and farmers as the natural rind was ideal to hold with hands dirty from hard work.

Cornish Kern is a contemporary classic that stands out in the British pantheon of cheeses—it is a cooked, pressed Alpine-style cheese, with flavors that are by turns sweet and winey or savory like caramelized garlic. Owing to its make, it is matured sixteen months, much longer than traditional English cheeses. “Kern” means round in Cornish.

Coolea is an Irish gouda of Dutch extraction. It tends to be nutty not just in flavor but in texture, with the richness of macadamia nuts, hazelnuts, and almond meal that compliments the delicate brown butter sweetness.

Montgomery’s Ogleshield a Raclette-inspired cheese made of Jersey cow milk with a supple, fudgey paste and savory notes of fried, salted peanuts and chicken stock. When melted, the salinity comes to the fore and this cheese shines.

The Blues

Colston Basset Stilton is remarkably balanced blue owing to its delicate, handmade care and longer maturation period before being pierced to allow blue mold (Penicilium roqueforti) to bloom. Colston Basset Stilton has a luxuriant, silky taste of sweet cream. Skip the port and savor this with a brown ale.

Stichelton, an arguably more traditional form of Stilton, has a fungal, feral funk to it owing to the raw milk.