Yay Toast! (Gjetost)

I often find myself thinking about the cheeses of Norway.

Okay, I have never thought about Norwegian cheese - I didn't even know they made cheese up there. Norway is in the Arctic, right? Cheese doesn't grow in the arctic, only in the antarctic. No, that's penguins.

I <3 penguins.

I digress.

On another one of our cheese-scouting adventures, Ash and I travelled back to Vinhus in Solvang, CA (despite our previous wohwoh experience there a few months earlier involving some serious ammonia stench). It seems they cleaned up a bit - the overwhelming smell of death-fish was gone, replaced by a more manageable l'odeur du fromage. Yum.

So, perusing the long refrigerated cheese case stocked with an overwhelming variety of unpronounceable cheese products, we stumbled upon this neat little cube of mystery:

what the?!

It said "cheese" on it, so we bought it. The little cube was about as big as a Rubick's cube, but more, uh, edible. It cost us $7, and it came with a warning from the very friendly cheese-lady: "It's an acquired taste."

Of course, we rushed home at top speed, and tore into the stuff. And we found this inside the neat little cube:

What the?!?!

In case you are as color blind as I am, the cheese is the color of caramel. This is not a normal color for cheese. Upon further investigation, it turns out that Gjetost (pronounced yay-toast) is produced by actually cooking the cheese as it forms. The goat-cow milk pre-cheese is boiled for several hours, allowing the natural sugars in the cheese to caramelize.

It's no coincidence, then, that the cheese tastes VERY STRONGLY of caramel. It has the consistency of semi-soft cheese but is very sweet. We nibbled it warily for a few hours, suspicious of this weird stuff we were eating. The best way to describe the flavor would be "chocolate american cheese" or "dehydrated caramel yogurt." It's got this weird tangy thing going on, it was almost disturbing. I didn't like it but Ashleigh didn't seem to mind. She insisted it would be good for breakfast, spread on something. Her dosage has since been reduced.

I think the problem is that we were eating fudge-sized chunks of it - the suggested serving is a thin slice on bread. This would be an interesting novelty cheese to have on a cheese plate, maybe presented in very small, very thin slivers. I can't think of anything to pair it with, maybe some apples or other fruits. 

The cheese-lady at Vinhus mentioned that Gjetost is staggeringly popular in Norway. People literally eat it everyday, packing it as a snack for hiking and skiing trips, shmearing it onto toast (tost?) for breakfast, and so forth. I'm still suspicious - this is the same group of people that eat Lutefisk for Pete's sake. 

So, if you see any, give it a shot, why the heck not. I hear it's gaining popularity here in the states. Look for the weird little cubes in the cheese case. Gross. I'm still trying to wash the taste of caramel-glazed feet out of my mouth. Glad I tried it though - who knows, maybe I'll give it another shot one of these days. 

- Alan.

The Huntsman- the baby bear of cheese

Alan and I hovered over the cheese counter in El Rancho Marketplace for much too long yesterday, trying to choose a cheese might be interesting and also delicious. We wanted to buy one of each delicious little wedge in the counter, since we've been cheeseless for 2 weeks, but we finally walked out with only a handful of cheeses.  Yes, a handful. We downsized to a handful. I think we need some help with the decisionmaking process.

So which beautiful gems du fromage did we walk out with? A couple french ones that you'll just have to wait for (oooo suspense!) and a blended cheese called The Huntsman. Yep. I didn't make that up, it's really a cheese that has a hearty, masculine nickname... it cracked me up. And from that you'd think it would look dark and earthy, with chunks of something manly like pot roast in it or something. Well, no. Honestly, this cheese looks kind of awkward, and you know me, I think the awkward things are always the cutest, and those are the ones I bring home. Here's what it looks like:

The Huntsman is a blend of Double Gloucester and Blue Stilton, from Long Clawson Dairy in Leicestershire, England. Long Clawson was started in 1911 (that's a century of cheesemaking!) and is renowned for its Stilton. What a lucky find! They specialize in Stiltons, making many types and flavors of it as well as creating unique blends with other cheeses and fruits. Genius! Steve Jenkins actually mentions them in The Cheese Primer as one of the 4 (that's right, 4) excellent Stilton makers in the world. So if you see Clawson Stilton, pick some up. Here's their website: Long Clawson Dairy

Let's get back to The Huntsman. It has alternating stripes of the bright orange Double Gloucester and the white and blue from the Stilton, so it is a bright, colorful cheese. Clawson dairy takes the whole traditional wheel of Double Gloucester and slices it, alternates the slices with hand formed slices of it's famous Blue Stilton, and creates a new wheel of The Huntsman. They have also trademarked this cheese, so you know you're getting the real thing when you see it. Since this is the first time we've had either Double Gloucester or Blue Stilton, we decided to try them separately and then together to get the full effect.

First, the DG. Like I said, it's bright orange (probably dyed for the "cheddar" effect - see note below) and firm, just a bit softer than cheddar. Double Gloucester is traditionally a whole milk farmhouse cheese, made from milk from 2 different milkings (the evening of day 1 and the morning of day 2).  At first I thought it was a variety of cheddar, but it's not. It's its own cheese, but it is often compared to cheddar - probably because cheddar is nearly universally recognizable, and they have a lot of similarities. Honestly, I agree with Steve Jenkins that it is a little bland, like very mild cheddar. Not much attitude, not much to remember.  Alan and I noticed that it did have a tremendously bitter aftertaste, which totally overpowered its mild, mellow flavor.

Now for the Stilton. Stilton is England's only name-protected cheese, so you know it's authentic. It appears as a traditional blue cheese, with fuzzy specks of the roqueforti mold throughout. Its smell hit me like a truck - like rank dirty feet - and Alan went nuts for it. He described it as "strong and sweet- a mix of cherries and dirty socks." Yuck! I could barely get the stuff in my mouth, I was gagging so badly. The bite was so strong and sour, and it lingered in my mouth for much too long. I kept trying to identify this flavor that Alan was bonkers for, but all I tasted was ashes or charcoal. Very unpleasant. Imagine charcoal with vinegar and lemon juice. After a couple tries, I was done. It was way too strong for me.  Of course, it's supposed to taste delectable, like spicy, rich and creamy honey, tobacco and molasses. Believe me, that's not what I get from it.

So, individually, we were unimpressed. The Gloucester was too mild, one boring note, and the Stilton was overpowering. Even though Alan loved it, he couldn't keep eating it straight. However, those guys at Clawson know their stuff, because together, they were incredible. Perfectly balanced, creamy, salty and just the right amount of sharpness. Like baby bear, JUST right.  I could actually taste layers of flavor, including earthy, salty, a little sweetness and fruitiness like apple and citrus. Wow. The two cheeses balanced each other out so perfectly, I couldn't believe I was eating the same thing as before.  It could have been a meal in itself, with some bread and vegetables, because yes, it turned out to be very rich and hearty and filling as the name suggests, even though it comes across like a mamby pamby cheese at first.  I even saw a recipe to melt it over some steak, and man, that would be a worthy Huntsman meal.  I'm looking forward to find some more products from Clawson, because I think they have a knack for blending.

We got really lucky stumbling upon this one, but making cheese decisions is turning out to be pretty difficult.  Feel free to send us some suggestions of your favorite cheeses that we should seek out, and try some of these along with us. We'd love to hear what you think of them too!

-Ashleigh

*Coloring Agents: the cheddar effect:  Most companies add organic dyes to their cheese starters to create a uniformly healthy look to the end product. Cheese used to turn out this way naturally because of the Vitamin D the cows got from their grass and other grazing goodies in the summer, but cheese from winter milkings was noticeably whiter.  Nowadays, since most diary cows are fed feed from silos year round, most cheeses naturally come out white, even though they don't taste much different from their naturally orange summer counterparts. Since cheesemakers want the cheese to be uniform and recognizable for the consumer (you recognize that cheddar is traditionally supposed to be orange, so you look for that when you shop), they add harmless dyes in the beginning of the cheese process. It's very common, sometimes it just ends up looking a little too fluorescent to be real.  Just so you know.  (Source: The Cheese Primer p. 6)

Cambozola!!

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls - I think we have a new favorite cheese (for now at least). Let me introduce you to my new friend, goes by the name Cambozola.

Cambozola is a strange little cheese - a bit confused, he can't seem to decide if he's a camembert or a gorgonzola (hence the name, a combination of the two). He is also a ridiculously delicious, creamy, blue-cheesy, soft-ripened little fella with tons of flavor and buttery goodness to spread over everything.

As it turns out, Cambozola is fairly young as cheeses go: it was created around the turn of the 20th century and only began being mass produced and marketed to the world in the 1970's. As of right now, there is only one major company responsible for sharing this cheesy treasure with the rest of the world: Käserei Champignon, apparently a giant German cheese conglomerate. The entire website below is in German, so I could be incredibly wrong about all of this; my knowledge of the German language is limited to what I learned from Blazing Saddles. Shnitzengruben!! 

Ok, here's the website for you German speakers: Cambozola: The Website (in German).

And now for the best part, the eating!

I tried the Cambozola cold, right out of the fridge, which goes against everything we've learned about cheese thus far. I couldn't help it, it looked so inviting: off white, creamy, with little flecks of blue Penicillium roqueforti mold (the best kind of mold!). The cold, buttery cheese melted in my mouth instantly and tasted of super fresh young mushrooms, with strong undertones of the typical blue cheese bite. 


As it warmed, the flavor intensified and I was smitten. I have to find more of this stuff. Thankfully, they sell it at Albertson's, and Trader Joe's. I wonder if there are any artisan varieties out there...  


Ashleigh took a bite and her eyes went wide. "Oh!" she said, with a very surprised look on her face. I think she was expecting a more pronounced blue-cheese flavor, but the buttery brie style of the cheese threw her off. It's good, ain't it little Ashers? 


Mr. Steve Jenkins of the Cheese Primer doesn't seem to be a fan though, saying this cheese "has little character and goes against everything I believe in." Oh Steve, surely you can stray from your rigid standards of fromage-ness just this once, just this once! Try it again, try it by the spoonful, cold, right out of the fridge. Go against everything you believe in and eat more Cambozola!

C'est Cheese and Chabichou!

This was an extremely cheesy weekend.  It's kind of taking over our lives... not that I mind. We've developed a semi-obsession, where we can't leave a store without checking out the cheese counter (even though we already have SO much in the fridge), and we're planning road trips to visit highly recommended cheese shops rather than historic landmarks. But, why be ordinary? Life is no fun without a little bit of eccentricity. And we like being weird :)

We went to C'est Cheese in Santa Barbara and had some lunch - grown-up grilled cheese and tomato soup, yum! -  and proceeded to buy too much cheese. We tried a couple samples from their cheese counters, and were very impressed by their selection of european imports and american artisan cheeses as well as a varied selection of cured meats.  And points to them for having an appetizing presentation in the dairy case - do you notice that when something looks cute and yummy you want to eat it even more? The C'est Cheesers definitely have it down. And everything was fresh and not too pungent or rancid smelling... thank goodness. After sampling, we went home with some Wensleydale (in honor of the Monty Python skit) imported from England, and some French cheese called Chabichou du Poitou (pronounced shaw-bee-shew doo pwa-too). It sounds so cute! When we got home we couldn't wait any longer, and we dug right in. We'll attack the Wenleydale later this week, so don't miss it!

But for now, let's talk about Chabichou. The brand that we bought is called Le Chevrot, and from that, you might be able to tell that this is a goat cheese (chèvre is french for goat). It is made in a western region of France called Poitou, and so it is called Chabichou du Poitou. And remember I told you about that naming board in France that protects cheese? Well, this particular cheese is protected by that organization, so you know it's authentic. It even has its own website! I find that amusing. You can find it here, but be warned, it is in French.  This particular brand (Le Chevrot) actually comes highly recommended in The Cheese Primer. About it, Steven Jenkins says "I have never tasted better goat cheese." That sounds promising!

Anyway, about our little Chabichou. It IS cute and little, just like it sounds. It comes in a small cylinder, about half the size of a can of soup. The rind is white and wrinkly-looking, like a brain. I'm 100% serious. And that's pretty much why we bought it - it looked nothing like anything else we've seen! So, you cut into it, and the inside is white and creamy, like cream cheese (but not as moist). So far, it seems pretty appetizing. Unfortunately, it is not as easy to eat as it is to look at. I struggle with goat cheese anyway- it makes my throat tense up and I gag - so its no surprise I couldn't eat very much of this.  Alan had no problem with it though, he dove right in. 

Because it's goat cheese, it has a sour, "goaty" punch. Not sour like a lemon, just a flavorless pucker-factor.  I guess the official term is "piquant,"  but just saying that makes me feel snooty. Veto: piquant. I'll stick with "goaty."  

It has zero sweetness, and has a strong earthy/mushroomy flavor. That's unexpected, because it looks just like cream cheese, yet tastes nothing like it.  It also smells like dirty socks... thankfully, it doesn't taste like them.  We found the texture to be silky, even though it looks a little bit chalky. It seems like this cheese is the poster child for "appearances can be deceiving." 

We did pretty well identifying the flavors (finally!); it was supposed to taste intensely like a barnyard and toasted nuts with a goat-like tang, according to Culture Cheese Magazine.  Mmmm... barnyard. That's what we got from it.

That wrinkly brain rind is edible, and it is suggested that eating it will intensify the flavors of the Chabichou, if you dare. Alan dared. And he regretted it, much to my amusement. His exact exclamation was "It's a nightmare!" and that it tasted like mustard punched him in the face. That's what you get for eating mold. He was still whimpering ten minutes later. 

Here's a photo of our cute Chabichou... don't judge it by it's cute exterior though. It's an intense cheese.  I couldn't handle it very well, because that goat gets me every time. And Alan would give his opinion, but he's still traumatized. I guess that's what makes a great goat cheese, though. We wish you better luck with it! Enjoy!

-Ashleigh

What the Challerhocker?!

We came across this interesting sounding cheese, and thought, "why not?" If it sounds funny, maybe it will taste delicious. This is another one that we got from C'est Cheese in Santa Barbara, CA.  It's a fantastic, quaint little cheese shop (which also has a delicious lunch menu) off the beaten in SB.  We love it there!

So, we got some Challerhocker, and looked it up without much initial success. But we kept at it, because I'm a research addict. Turns out, this is a lesser known relative of Appenzeller, and it hails from Switzerland - and what is with the swiss names for cheeses? They're so silly!

Time for a not-so-ancient-history-lesson: A man named Walter Rass, who is renowned for being an Appenzeller maker, tweaked his recipe for Appenzeller and created a brand new breed of cheese: Challerhocker. We haven't had Appenzeller yet but it sounds like Challerhocker isn't much like its granddad cheese.  It is cooked a little bit differently, and aged for 10 months in a cellar (and it's name translates to "sitting in the celler") and washed with wine and rubbed with a super top secret mix of herbs and spices before we ever get the chance to try it. And it sounds like this process makes it vastly different from the old fogey Appenzeller.
** If anyone knows, please correct me if I'm wrong, but it sounds to me like Challerhocker is a recently invented cheese (since Walter Rass is still alive and handcrafting his original Challerhocker) and that it is only made by this one guy for one company in one town in Switzerland. To me, that sounds like a pretty spectacular cheese.  And, it has made such a name for itself that it's carried regularly at a small specialty cheese shop in SB... so it must be pretty good!

Enough with the disclaimers. Let's get munching!

Challerhocker is a firm, whitish cheese with a brown waxy rind. It has small holes in it like popular Swiss cheese, but its nothing like it. It's creamy, not at all plastic-y. And it's got those tiny little lactic acid crystals in it like we found in the Gouda. It melts on your tongue, if you have enough self-control to keep it there for a minute! As you can probably guess, we're not very good at that part. And now for the flavor. Very interesting, not like anything else we've tried. It's earthy, and nutty and has a very weird spice component. It reminded me of a spicy walnut rolled in dirt.  In a good way.  Alan and I argued (nicely) about how spicy it is... he says barely, with a slight acidity, and I say it's in-your-face spicy. Apparently, its only in my face. It literally burns my tongue, like black pepper. And don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoy it. Probably because I love pepper.  I'm personally amazed that this cheese has such a crazy depth of flavor, which is actually what it is gaining so much notoriety for. It also has very little dairy flavor, which is refreshing - not like the rancid bleu cheese Alan made me eat last week. Yuck. The Challerhocker doesn't taste like sour milk at all. Hooray!

According to Cowgirl Creamery, which is a cheesemaker a few hours north of us, Challerhocker is supposed to taste a little bit like caramel, sweet cream, brown butter, and melted leeks. Leeks!? I've never had a leek... but it's related to onion, so that makes sense. Onions have a certain spiciness - In-your-face eye-burning spiciness. Tone it down a few notches, and you've got Challerhocker. We picked up on a little bit of the sweetness, too, so it looks like we're getting a little bit better at this.

So, I think this might be one of my favorites so far. Go Switzerland! I really like thats is so unique and un-cheesey. Alan likes that it is a light creamy cheese, without the pungent flavor that swiss cheeses can have. "It's good!" he says.  Highly recommended :) If you come across it, shell out the cash and get a small wedge... it goes for about $32/lb. But, for authentic, imported, one of a kind, original recipe cheesy goodness, it's worth it.  And tell us about your cheese adventures!

-Ashleigh

Monty Python's Cheese Shop

Haha, this is a great skit from the famed Monty Python troupe. I was inspired by this to purchase some actual Wendsleydale. Enjoy!

- Alan.

Valdeon - The Scariest Cheese Alive! Literally!!

Howdy everyone, and happy Cheese Friday! In this post we'll finally be sampling some of the funky stuff Ashleigh's been dreading (and I've been dreaming of). Our cheese of the moment: Queso De Valdeon! Here's what it looks like:

They say a picture is worth a thousand words - I can almost smell this one.

A buddy of ours picked some up from C'est Cheese in Santa Barbara, one of the finest cheese shops around!

First, a brief history lesson.

This cheese hails from the mysterious and often overlooked cheese-riddled country of Spain, specifically the northwestern region of Leon. People there seem to have a fondness for mighty cheeses, as evidenced by the intensely flavored Valdeon and its relatives Cabrales and Picon (I've never heard of these cheeses either - we'll keep our eyes open for them). 

The cheese is typically made of cow's milk, but I keep reading that it may also be a blend of various milks. A blend of various milks - that's a strange concept. Think about it. Milks. From different animals.  Mixed together. Weird.

Once the typical cheese-making process is underway, the cheese wheel is injected with mold spores. Yup, fungus. Specifically, a member of the Penicillium genus. Yup, Penicillium. As in penicillin. As in antibiotics. 

After a date with some fungus spores, the cheese is wrapped in sycamore leaves for some reason. My sources say this is for flavor. Does anyone know what sycamore tastes like? Trees? Banana bread? I have no idea. 

Inoculated and draped in sycamore, the young Valdeon is left to age in caves. Again with the caves? I gotta find some caves - there'll probably be some cheese waiting for me inside. 

Ok, enough about fungus and caves and milk mixtures - let's eat some cheese!!

The verdict:

I freaking love this cheese. It's everything I hoped it would be, from the pungent smell that fills the house once you cut it to the punch-you-in-the-face flavor. And, oh, the flavor. It's like spicy, mushroomy, peppery dirt. It melts in your mouth into a puddle of ridiculousness. There are few cheeses that could possibly taste like this. I'm sure everyone has had blue cheese before, well maybe not real artisanal blue cheese - anyway, that is the closest thing I can compare Valdeon to. Only turned up to 11.  

Ashleigh wanted nothing to do with my poor Valdeon. She had a hard time entering the room when I was cutting it, and fled squeaking with horror as I offered her a taste. After a few days she finally mustered up the courage to try a piece - and regretted every second of it. I think she cried a little.

Bottom line: this is it folks - the strongest flavored cheese you are most likely to encounter on your cheese journey. Be forewarned, it is not for the squeamish or the faint of taste buds. Don't be afraid of the grayish-blue fuzz visibly growing inside the cheese. That's the magic growing inside. And you won't need any shots from the doctor for a few months!

**Disclaimer: Alan is not a doctor. By eating Valdeon or ANY blue-veined cheese you are in no way, shape, or form exempt from your regularly scheduled vaccinations.