Sitting in front of the fire on a chilly pâques sunday, digesting my meal of lamb and oysters, listening to some smooooth jazz = everything is tranquille. Writing these blog posts has become really enjoyable and a procrastination habit because I feel as if I’m anchoring my taste buds in the waves of time and so I’ll always be able to come back to this Sunday or that tuesday with those cheeses and those sensations. tis funny because in that sense this is really just a diary that everyone (and by everyone I mean me and the one visitor who happens to stumble upon this blog once every couple weeks) has the ability to read. And so anyway cheese. My friend Laura and I have discovered a mutual lust for cheese that includes her buying me pesto gouda from Amsterdam when she goes back and me loving eating it. I sampled her some of the cantal and gouda with cumin that was last week and she liked it and made big expressive googly eyes when she was eating and did the “unhhhhh so good” that really defines my life when it comes to eating. Transcending expression when eating is a near-daily occurrence for me so I was so glad to see my girl L enjoying cheese so ineffably.
Easter cheese plate is as follows! Here we have a nice bûche de chèvre, a widdle chèvre aux fines herbes, and a hunk o’ emmenthal. It was curious how different the two chèvres were: the little guy was the tangy creamy chèvre that you get in plastic packacges (but of a much better quality a durr) and the bûche was more delicate tasting, hints of chalkyness in a very agreeable way (weird yes). But anyway on with individual cheese descriptions because we haven’t even been acquainted!
The bûche de chèvre, seen below as a big white roll, literally means “log of goat cheese” aka not really romantic. The bûche was previously only from Poitou-Charentes but thank goodness you can get it partout in France now. It has an ivory paste type of interior, melty and refined partly due to the fact that it is pasteurised milk. One way that we ate it was heated in the oven on iddle toasts; so imagine melty chèvre as heated and even meltier. The cheese actually did a little semblance of the lightest of crusts that is not a crust in any traditional sense of the word but really an indication of the heated fluff on the inside that was cloud-like in nature. Thus a crust here simply signifies “harder than a cloud”. Magnifique. Aaaand donc we drizzled (what a fantastic word) rosemary honey on top and ate chèvre honey toasties like royalty. Side note-anecdote: I was oozing about the prowess of pb&j’s with some americans here and one of french mecs with us, Robin, said that it was an absolute muuuust that I try this chevre/honey cheese toast and thus I have done it! I think he also put raisins or something sounding oh so gourmand on top so I’ll have to mmm mmmm that.
And mmm now we have arrived at the chèvre aux fines herbes!!! Per my previous post describing all the little chèvre balls, I respect so deeply these flavor bomb concoctions. I bet some trendy place in New York or vermont could be entirely dedicated to the world of chèvre and the possibilities of herbal emulsions and fruit coulis and peppppper always pepper. The herbs we see here were (probably) chives, green onions, tarragon, thyme, and parsley. Altogether a green piquant good flavor. Nothing lifechanging.
Daniel bought 7 trays of little rocamadours and with those we’ll be eating what is called “aumonière” and that = wrapped in pastry dough and baked and probably a little bit of ham in it and maybe some onion confiture and ahhh…. The possibilities are not endless in fact but quite enough substantial. Happy Easter everyone and make sure to get your dairy servings!