To board or to plate....

When it comes to serving cheese to guests at a small dinner party, say, there are at least two main options people turn to. Let's discuss those here: the cheese board or a cheese plate. I think it will become clear which one we favor at Fromage-du-Mois.


(I thought I would mention that Steven Jenkins, one of America's foremost cheese mongers, has a very nice section on serving cheese as well in The Cheese Primer. His book is also a wonderful introduction to the world of cheese, including the cheese-making process, wonderful descriptions of the major and many minor cheeses of the world and their regions of origin, and many resources about cheese shops and artisinal cheese makers around the world.)

So, a cheese board is that slate or wooden board, perhaps a bit unwieldy, that is often put out on the coffee table or end-table for guests (image, right). There are usually 1-3 wedges of different cheeses on the board, each with its own knife, and a stack of small napkins nearby. Some people will add a couple of crackers to this mix. After your guests do some mingling and hovering around this board, you inevitably see small crumbles of cheese on the floor below. There sometimes feels like there is "no beginning and no end" to this method, until all you have left is 3 rinds and guests that may be too full for the rest of your courses.


The cheese board is a well-intended endeavor. As we've experienced, however,  it seems to fall short and can become a true tragedy of the commons. It can promote endless standing around and nibbling, it lacks a personal touch, and it often doesn't include the savory accompaniments which enhance cheese flavors (things like: thick crusty bread, toasted black walnuts, a fig or date jam, and macoun apples, among others).

A cheese plate, on the other hand (image, left), may fill these voids well and help serve as desired. In a small or even medium-sized dinner party setting, it is only a little more trouble to prepare individual plates.

A cheese plate can be a regular dinner plate in size or smaller one, if fitting. You can prepare the plate with, say, 2-4 cheeses, usually in smaller wedges or pieces than on a board.  This seems to really cut down on the hovering, mingling, careless cutting, and piece-dropping on the floor. And importantly, the experience is more personal; it seems to emphasize quality rather than quantity in presentation. It is also a more fit method to include a smattering of appropriate accompaniments, things like wedges of French bread, roasted nuts, slices of fruit,  or (if the cheese is right), thin slices of prosciutto or sopresata.  More on specific cheese accompaniments later....

Let us know what your experience has been...

A sweet, creamy goat: Capricho de Cabra

Capricho de Cabra is a very nice Spanish goat's milk cheese that we tried here this week....and highly recommend.

Capricho is a borderline-soft/borderline creamy cheese that hails from the Southeastern part of Spain---a temperate, grassy region known as Murcia.

This is the same region of Spain, and the same Murciano goats, which provides us with Capricho's slightly smoother, certainly moister cousin:  Murcia al Vino (the "Drunken Goat").  We at FDM sampled the Drunken Goat a couple of years ago and it remains among our worldwide favorite cheeses.

Capricho is not soaked in wine, though, as Murcia al Vino is.  Rather, Capricho is a bit on the sweet and dry side, making it a standout among the usually more salty, wetter goat's milk cheeses out there.

Capricho is just the right touch of 'tangy', and not too creamy, to first excite and then hunker down in your taste-buds....but, for just the right amount of time (minutes). That is not the easiest feat for a goat's milk cheese that has to be shipped across the Atlantic-- this is not your grandma's, 2-day, fresh farmer's chevre:)

In any case, it is a really very nice selection.  It might go perfectly with a flatbread and a bit of olive oil.  Whole Foods Market has been carrying this cheese all year.  Enjoy.

Raw, organic, farmstead, and from New England

We tried a delightful New England-area cow's milk cheese the other night called Prescott at Central Kitchen, a New American restaurant in Cambridge, MA.

Two ample wedges of this semi-hard, organic, raw cow's milk cheese, aged over 8 months, were served as an appetizer, along with several hard french-style bread pieces and a sweet berry relish. The cheese itself is quite tasty, with a hint of salt, a little nuttiness, and a very smooth mouth-feel. It is a mild cheese, perhaps reminiscent of a mild gruyere-cheddar cross, with a little less of that characteristic gruyere sweetness.

Prescott is one of a number of artisanal cheeses made at Robinson Farm, a family owned and operated organic dairy farm in Hardwick, MA. Hardwick is a town in central Massachusetts, about equidistant between Worcester and Northampton. The farm offers at least 3 other wash-rind, raw milk cheeses, all of which won awards recently at the Cheeses of New England competition of the 2011 Big E. (The Big E is the largest annual fair in the Northeast).

The picture (above right) is borrowed from a fantastic photographic tutorial of cheese making at the Robinson farm, courtesy of a post last year from the the New England Cheesemaking Supply company.

We'd highly recommend trying some of these. You can buy Prescott and the other cheeses from the Robinson farm directly, apparently with a minimum of 2 pound purchase (@ whole sale prices). This may be your best bet if you are outside of the New England area. Get a bunch of friends to go in with you! If you're within greater Boston or around New England, a better bet may be to find Robinson Farm cheeses at one of these locations.

Until next time...

Manchego: From the Sheep of La Mancha

Fromage-du-mois friends may remember an early post on this site, in 2006, about Manchego. For those who missed it, I thought I'd re-introduce this simple staple of the cheese world.

Many people have probably heard of and/or tried Manchego (Queso Manchego, officially). If you haven't, I would encourage you to give it a shot.

Manchego is a very nice, 'nutty'-flavored, Spanish sheep's milk cheese. It is still Spain's "most popular cheese" and it remains name-controlled: it must be made in its region of origin to be called (Queso) Manchego.

Manchego hails from the expansive, sometimes barren region of 'inner Spain' called Castile-La Mancha (the link is from El Sol Villas, which offers vacation villas throghout Europe). Apparently, the expansive plains of La Mancha are subjected to a climate of seasonal extremes, often pummeled with unrelenting winds and broad sweeps in temperatures throughout the year (read: Don Quixote and his windmill travails). The thick-fleeced sheep of La Mancha, who provide the milk for this ubiquitous fromage, are some of the only animals able to withstand this climate.

Manchego is usually quite mild, a little bit briny, and tastes like it is "of the earth", if that makes any sense. And the common description of it being "nutty" I think is especially accurate. Like many cheeses, it becomes more acrid and tangy when it is aged.

The seal (above) is Queso Manchego's official Protested Designation of Origin (PDO) Seal, certified by the European Union. It can be placed only on Manchego cheese wheels when they are produced from the milk of La Mancha's sheep, and, aged for at least 60 days.

Literature fans will note that the seal includes a silhouette of the famous "Don Quixote" on his horse, and---I believe--a second, rider-less horse by his side (or.....does anyone see Sancho Panza on the second horse?).

Enjoy!

A Tale of Three Goat Cheeses: Notes on a Fromage Flight

I recently had the pleasure of sampling some delicious and intriguing fromage with the esteemed Goudacris. We found ourselves in the heart of San Francisco's rapidly-bougifying Mission District and remembered that there was a new cheese establishment in town.

Aptly named Mission Cheese,

this place has just the right amount of trend: a tall chalkboard serves as the day's menu; a sleek, chartreuse tiled bar complements the otherwise minimalist décor. There is also some compelling chalkboard art involving sheep whose fleece is made of people's names. The spot is best described as a “cheese cafe” that also happens to be a cheese shop. They have an extensive list of fromages that can be purchased by the pound, but most patrons seem to come for the cheese flights, cheese sandwiches, and adult beverages.

Gouda and I settled on the “Pacific NW” cheese flight, a glass of Periscope rosé (on tap, of course), and a bottle of Scrimshaw. Our flight was introduced to us by a charming gal who seemed to really know her fromage. The flight contained three fromages (all goat), three exciting cheese knives, some baguette slices, green apple slices, and cornichons.

The first cheese was “Up in Smoke”, an award-winning goat cheese from Oregon's central coast that's first smoked over alder and hickory and then wrapped in smoked maple leaves. Very impressive. It looks like a delectable fromage dolma, and I felt like a kid at christmas as we unwrapped our little fromage gift. Up in Smoke's taste was described to us as “bacony”, but I found its flavor to have more of a smoked ham or smoked turkey quality. Then again, I'm a vegetarian, so perhaps I shouldn't be trusted on this. What I do know is that this cheese was delicious. Some chevres tend to be a bit dry, flaky, and crumbly (which can end up being quite messy), but this goaty fromage was creamy and spreadable. We sampled it plain, with bread, and with apple. The apple-fromage combination was simply delightful – the pungent, smoky creaminess (or was it creamy smokiness?) was complemented perfectly by the apple's tart crispness. yum.

The next leg of our fromage journey took us to Bend, Oregon for the “Pondhopper”, a semi-hard goat cheese. Its claim to fame is that it's washed in a local beer, which is meant to give it a hops-y flavor. Here's a review of the process (and the fromage). This cheese was considerably more subtle than the first, but this is not to say that it wasn't complex. Au contraire! For me, eating the Pondhopper was like eating several cheeses in one, each flavor arriving in succession like Wonka's three-course dinner gum. I initially got hints of monterey jack, followed by a tangy, almost brie-like taste, and then a more pungent, grassy flavor. Outstanding! I felt that the beer notes were most prevalent in the final stages. This is an extremely compelling cheese that I hope to enjoy again soon. It's supposed to make an excellent mac-and-cheese, but I think its subtlety may be better enjoyed in small slices, especially at $39/lb. Zing!

The final stop on our fromage flight was a semi-soft Washingtonian goat cheese called “Off Kilter”, which I've just learned is washed in a Scotch ale. This is an important detail, because both Goudacris and I seem to have (mis)heard our server tell us that the cheese was washed in scotch. Wishful thinking, perhaps... as a scotch lover, the prospect of a scotch-fromage marriage made me almost giddy with delight. Needless to say, the fromage tasted nothing like scotch, but it seems rather unfair to hold that against it. And yet, all things considered, I still feel that this cheese was underwhelming. It had a pleasant, earthy taste to it, but it paled in comparison to the first two fromages. I've sampled quite a few beer/ale-washed cheeses in my day, and this one was my least favorite. A bit too subtle, perhaps, even for a refined cheese-taster such as myself.

All in all, it was a delightful, fromage-filled afternoon. Someday soon, I'd like to go back to Mission Cheese and try their "cheesemonger" flight (a fromagey spin on the "chef's selection") and perhaps a sandwich. I'll be sure to give a full report.