Love shows up in so many forms: sweaty, bold, robust, hard, European… Give in to your curiosity and succumb yourselves to these curdled phenomenons
Photo Credits: Collage Made By The Blog
August 1, 2023
Vallée Brebidoux
Swiss, cow, stinky and to some even offensive. But when rendered “sweaty,” this fragrant fromagination drives me into complete submission. Great for folding into a plushy omelet, but to enjoy it in its purest form, just spear it over the stove like a marshmallow. And wait for that moment it begins to drip sweat.
[Vallee Brebidoux is — devastatingly — seasonal. When unavailable SCHNEBELHORN is another slightly less funky version]
This Italian “cupcake” of salty goopy unctuous marvelousness is a heroine of the cow-goat-sheep union and has rightfully won its place in my heart. It bears all the dreamy textures you can ask for in a soft cheese: a chalky brainy rind, silky gooeyness, and a dense fudgy core. Spoon, stroke, and bond in perfect unison.
Spanish, Blue and salty jugular bliss. It’s ashy and possibly the driest of all blues, drier than even a Stilton. Beware, don’t let its salty indecency get to you, once you start you’ll insatiably crave more.
This Spanish semi-cured sheep’s milk cheese is sweeter, nuttier and by far more titillating than any Manchego I know of. Use it for grating over spicy tomato-vodka pasta, or cutting into bikini triangles for an aperitivo. Soft but hard, it’s everything I want in a cheese.
It’s similar yet drier than even the most cured Manchego. It escapes heavy sheepiness, characteristic of many of its sheep’s-milk peers. Ideal for grating on ANYTHING. Parm’s envy. My bliss.
French and semi-firm, I also spear and let a chunk of this blended cow-sheep phenomenon melt away, in complete abandon to the hot stove and my hot heart. It’s not anything as overbearing as the Vallee Brebidoux but its subtly sharp finish lingers ever so much to have you hungering for your and especially its next bite.
There’s only one way to eat this French dairy treasure: hold a massive chunk of it over low flame and wait for it to ooze defenselessly onto your plate. Allow for cool-off, then slice into it with a meat knife as if it were steak. Warm, comfy and inviting. Aya.
Croatian, hard, sheep, and an erotic-is-exotic alternative to its Italian or Spanish grate-worthy counterparts. I shave this in impossibly thin curls over smashed crispy fried artichoke “flowers.”
Basque, sheep, and semi-aged, pair this with the textural and emotional contrast of L’epicurien Red Pepper Confit with Raspberry & Cayenne and nothing else.
A French cow’s-milk classic, its description is all in the name: “beau” and “fort,” meaning handsome and strong. Also, THE omelet-filler, the French way.
Classic, English, Blue, enticingly veiny and addictively salty. Hard, crumbly, soft and creamy all illogically in one: The complete package. Heaven, if stuffed in pitted Castelvetrano green olives and popped in the oven for desiccated concentrated goodness.
For anyone on a mission to find the impossible (at least within the US), I also recommend Urnäscher Brauchtumskäse, 12 month-Aged Pecorino Pepato, Fromage Mauerhofer, and Piora
AND…
IF you are in the Basque region and so happen to find yourself in Biarritz (one of the best places on Earth), do stop by 1001 Fromages, the ultimate Cheese Nirvana.
