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 we thought was Brie...

Today, Alan and I decided to explore the world of Brie... or what we thought was Brie.  We were in Solvang, CA, and since we still had money left over in our cheese budget after we bought a great cheese board, we were on the hunt for cheese! While Vinhus (where we found the board) had a pretty impressive cheese counter, most of them were too strong for me (bleus and camembert) or were American made cheeses (and we're trying to focus on European imports since we're so new to it. I'm sure there are a lot of great American cheese artisans, but we're just not there yet.), so our journey continued.

We went to the local natural food market, El Rancho Marketplace, and discovered that they had a great, well-cared for cheese counter! What stood out to us was their selection of Brie: there were at least 8 of them, all imports except for one. Both of us have had Brie before; it's fairly popular in restaurants and at cheese counters, so we thought it would be fun to buy a couple of different brands and compare them. The ones we picked were St. Andre and Fromager d'Affinois.

And it's a good thing we approached it that way.  Bear with me through this short educational introduction. In the chapter of The Cheese Primer that discusses Brie, it explains that the term "brie" is not legally protected. There is a french board that protects the rights to the names of cheeses, similar to patents and licensing in the US. Only 2 types of Brie have been protected under this board, Brie de Meaux and Brie de Melun, neither of which you can really find in the US, with the exception of a few good brands. That may not seem very important, but what it means is any old cheese can call itself Brie, regardless of how and where it's made and what it tastes like, but only cheeses that are made in a specific area of France and by a specific process can call themselves Brie de Meaux or Brie de Melun.

That means, we Americans may be eating a lot of phony Bries without ever knowing it, especially since Brie is a pretty hip cheese right now - you KNOW you've been in a restaurant and heard those hipsters in the booth next to you talking about how they're so sophisticated because Brie is their favorite cheese!

So, why were there so many Bries laying around this cheese counter in El Rancho? Let me tell you. They weren't Brie. And neither were the two that we bought today. The store-printed deli label may say Brie, and the actual cheese label from the manufacturer may say Brie, but what it REALLY is (unless it says Brie de Meaux or Brie de Melun) is a Double-Creme or Triple-Creme Soft-ripened cheese. This was really confusing for Alan and me, but I did a lot of research and it sounds to me like the overarching category is Soft-ripened cheese (which includes Double- and Triple-cremes, and Paglia cheeses... more on those when we come to them), and that the two Bries are types of Double-creme Soft-ripened cheese.  That doesn't mean they're the ONLY double-cremes.  Got all that?

Now we can move onto the cheeses we had today. Yum!  Here we go: St. Andre and Fromager d'Affinois.

Both of these cheese are considered double-cremes, because they have between 60-75% butterfat. To achieve this, extra cream is added to the cheese before it becomes curd, resulting in a creamy and silky finish once it is formed and aged. A triple-creme must have over 75% butterfat (oh vey!), making it even silkier. According to Steven Jenkins, true triple-cremes are very rare. St. Andre had 70% butterfat, and Fromager d'Affinois had 60%.

Both of these cheeses are off-white, and look like regular old Philadelphia cream cheese, if it had a rind. They are soft and spreadable, and don't give off any kind of pungent odor. They are both cows milk cheeses.  Overall, we had a pleasant first impression. The similarities end there, though.

St. Andre had a consistency very similar to cream cheese, and tasted like it too. It was slightly more mild than cream cheese, though, and was a little heavier and more buttery. Alan and I both loved it.  We didn't taste anything crazy in this one like we have been, no nuts or fruits or armpits.  Just clean, fresh cream cheese.

Fromager d'Affinois was also delightful, but very much its own animal. It was surprisingly silky, like almost-melted butter.  This was impressive, because it has the characteristics of a triple-creme, even though it only has the minimal amount of butterfat to be considered a double!

Naturally, I did some research. I found another fantastic source, the PFI Cheese Library. According to their website, its qualities mimic that of a triple-creme because the milk is "ultra-filtered" before it is made into curd, making it very smooth.  It also had an intense butter flavor, like the artificial butter spray. Or, if you've ever stuck your fingers in a stick of butter and ate it (yes, I have) then you know that flavor. It was a little too strong to eat by itself, but on a cracker it was fantastic. We loved this one too.

The verdict:
Alan: They were both delicious, and are the best ones we've had so far. It's strange that they are so closely related, but are vastly different.
Ashleigh: They are nice and safe, great for beginning cheese hounds.  I love that they are creamy and not scary. But, we still have to find some real Brie.

Here's a photo of our happy cheese board, complete with the two cheeses of the night and our accompaniments, pears and salami!  

Left: Fromager d'Affinios, Right: St. Andre. Accompaniments: Pear and Salami

Have a great day, and happy cheese hunting!

-Ashleigh