French Cheese: Roquefort

Roquefort, a sheep milk cheese, has been in the spotlight since Charlemagne chose it to be his favourite and late medieval French kings gave this culinary marvel special status which was way before the Enlightenment philosopher Diderot decided to plonk the title of The King of Cheeses—don't tell Roquefort, but quite a number of cheeses are considered kingly including Parmesan and Comté—upon its unsuspecting head. The eponymous village and surrounding area certainly needed a royal boost as it was described as being the land where neither vineyards nor corn will grow. By the 20th century Roquefort was enjoying international appreciation.

The famous Combalou caves lined with fleurines (fissures) which ensure the air is kept consistently fresh and cool are referred to as the cabanes, hence the women employees are called the cabanières. To this day some work is mostly done by women because wrapping the cheese for affinage requires a gentle hand. However, in large part, the manufacture is highly technical and mechanised, but without violating any of the strict parameters necessary to keep its special designation.

Nuts and dried fruit in general go well with cheese. A totally fabulous way to present that tasty duo with Roquefort is to serve fruit/nut cake with it.

With that in mind, I went ahead and ordered such an item from The Simply Delicious Cake Company situated in Shropshire, UK. Unlike them I can be immodest and say that their name could conceivably be replaced in a New York minute with a way more appropriate one of The Mind-Blowing Delicious Cake Company. Among their many offerings is a fruit cake just for cheese. This masterpiece contains figs, dates, raisins, apples, and apricots with walnuts and ground almonds thrown in for good measure and is held together by a nearly skeletal structure—no skimping on fruit and nuts at this bakery—of moist, butter-rich cake. Though sweetened with brown sugar and molasses which deepens its fruity, nutty flavours even further, it isn't sweet enough to grace a cup of tea. But it is a perfect companion for cheese, especially cheddar and blue cheese.

France is in the middle of its second canicule, that is, heatwave, for the season. One advantage? It does not take long to bring Roquefort to room temperature! Like all good companions, the cake brings out the best in the Roquefort, and the Roquefort does the same for the cake. Saltiness and sweetness are perfect foils, but also the comforting solidity of the cake takes on the crumbly tanginess of Roquefort like a champ.

Roquefort makes an easy and wonderful dip for crackers and crudités. Mash it with some crème fraîche and enough cream to get the desired consistency. The dip also can be mixed into pasta. With all the green beans streaming in from the potager, a quick meal lately has been a salad of green beans, capers, Roquefort, and chunks of French bread, all tossed together with olive oil, vinegar, salt, and freshly ground black pepper.

Le Livre du Fromage (Éditions des Deux Coqs d'Or, 1968) advises that all wines go well with Roquefort with the exception of sweet ones so if you are considering champagne go brut. But for a sublime pairing, choose from the great red wines like Pape Clément, Châteauneuf du Pape, Chambertin, Clos Vougeot, and Haut-Brion.

À la prochaine!

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Comté

Coulommiers 

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Related Link

The Simply Delicious Cake Company's website

French Cheeses: Bleu d'Auvergne

When The Calm One and I lived in Grenoble which at that time was part of the southeast French region of Rhone-Alpes, we often found ourselves visiting neighbouring Auvergne* which is known for cheese, lentils, forests, dormant volcanoes, mineral water, Charolais beef, aligot, and potée auvergnate. I remember walking down an aisle of a regional products shop while gawking at huge jars of this earthy pork and vegetable stew.  Apprehensive if I lugged one off the shelf that it would crash down on me and any unfortunate folks nearby, hence permeating us with essence of pork for all eternity, I refrained and bought a packet of Cantal cheese biscuits instead. They were rich, small, thick rounds which melted in my mouth. I ate the entire contents as if they were candy. Boasting these five beloved fromages—Cantal, Saint Nectaire, Forme d'ambert, Salers, and Bleu d'Auvergne—it beats any other administrative area in France for the number of gorgeous A.O.C. cheeses it produces.  Bleu d'Auvergne is a bit sauvage like the eponymous countryside. One can never eat enough blue cheese, unless of course if you detest it.  I would like to say to such folks go back to the planet from which you came. Yet even better, remain on earth and give me your portion. Crumbling blue cheese over scrambled eggs, pasta, soup, and salad (much quicker than making a dressing of it), really over most things, you can't go wrong. Its pungent, salty creaminess enhances, well, life.

Though certain herbs** can be successfully paired with blue cheese,  I used the ones available from our potager as a visual accompaniment. However, I was delighted that their vibrant fragrance whetted my appetite even more for the cheese.

On the left, Fennel, the herb (not the bulb!), sage, rosemary

Bleu d'Auvergne is essentially a cow-milk version of Roquefort so though similar, it is buttery and creamier.

Parsley and thyme joined the green crowd

Its soft croûte (rind) is lovely in taste and texture so make sure that everybody gets some.

Best served at room temperature

Le Livre du Fromage published by Deux Cogs D'or suggests a Châteauneuf-du-Pape because it is nerveux like Bleu d'Auvergne. The French often use that word to describe wine. Since I doubt it needs to be sedated, it is my interpretation that such wine gives a delicious jolt to YOUR nervous system. Our cellier obliged with a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape. High-quality whiskey is another choice as are sweet wines like port, sauternes, monbazillac, and ice which balance out the saltiness.

There were no figs, walnuts, honey, apples, or pears chez nous, all which often are served with blue cheese. We did have some cherries and strawberries on hand, and they went well enough taste-wise. However the creaminess of the cheese was even more pronounced because of the juiciness of the berries. So texture-wise, it was a hit. Lesser known possibilities are blackberries (oh, I can't wait when our bush starts producing!), mushrooms, pineapple, and dark chocolate.

Our strawberry patch is getting close to harvesting. Well, a few have already been picked, by birds, hence the netting.

I sneak a hand under a loosened edge of the netting to get at the berries

David Austin Falstaff climbing rose is putting out many a fragrant bloom.

The grey-green foliage below is that of perennial yellow snapdragons which will bloom soon

A garden wall covered with ivy is ready for another trim.

Calla lilies and bougainvillea charm with their white and pink blooms.

The true flowers on a bougainvillea are not the conspicuous, deep-pink sepals but a hard-to-see, tiny, white blossom

À la prochaine!

*   Auvergne is now merged with Rhone-Alps

** Slightly frozen (yes, you heard right!) crumbled blue cheese combined with minced sour/bitter herbs

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Asparagus and Green Onion soup garnished with crumbled Bleu d'Auvergne
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Aligot

RELATED LINKS

The fungus in your blue cheese is having weird sex!
Regional Dishes of Auvergne
Some fruit and alcohol pairing for blue cheese
The science behind food pairing

Our 2016 Noël Feast . . . and the continuing triple feline saga of Dirac, Eli & Ernest

The Calm One and I hope your holidays were joyful. After a nice long break, it's great to be blogging once again. French supermarkets having a foire du vin every autumn encourages squirrelling away bottles in our sous-sol's cool, dark cellier. There is ample shelving for pumpkins, onions, and potatoes from the potager along with space for growing mushrooms, crocks for fermenting various delices, and storing late-ripening tomato vines. A sanctum of plenty. And there are wine racks! A Pomerol from our stash was deemed the best choice for the holiday table. Don't worry, your vision is fine because that is a garlic press in the below photo. We'll blame the cognac that told me to take a sip, OK, several sips as I poured some into the shrimp bisque, not to mention that blindly rummaging the innards of a kitchen drawer with one hand while stirring several pots on the stove in rapid succession with the other renders corkscrews and garlic presses remarkably similar to the touch.

Our winter-flowering heather obliged with a small bouquet

Pomerol is the AOC referring to a small area within the right bank of the prestigious région viticole of Bordeaux. It has unassuming chateaux, no official classification, and not much recognition outside France until the American wine critic, Robert Parker, extolled its virtues starting in the 1980s. But it does have the exceptional blue clay of Petrus whose domain produces some of the most expensive wines in the world. The main cépage is the merlot grape variety. Pomerol is quite varied, from light to full-bodied. Though our moderately priced bottle did not come from Petrus, it still was wonderful, fleshy and fruity.

Last autumn, we got several, small wine glasses for a pittance at a flea market 

Since Pomerol pairs well with roasted, grilled, and braised meat, roast beef was chosen as the main course. With turf comes surf. Enjoying shrimp bisque at various restaurants, I always wanted to make one from scratch. Next week's post will have detailed instructions on this potent but silky mixture of shrimp, tomato, rice, cognac, mirepoix of carrot, celery and shallot, shrimp stock, cream, lemon, thyme, cayenne, and bay leaf. Until then, let's focus on the garnish, minced shrimp and chives, centred in a shallow soup plate.

The soup was ladled around that tempting little mound. Being of Goldilocks consistency, the bisque washed over my palate in a briny wave with an undercurrent of spice, nutty taste, slight sweetness, a bit of tang, and buttery savouriness, all laced with cream and cognac. It was the better the next day, and the day after, it reached regale status.

Last spring we forced some of the potager's rhubarb by overturning a large terracotta crock over a plant so there would be tender, pink puree in the freezer for our Noël dessert of rhubarb fool. Having made it before, I wanted to try something different which was adding crème anglaise which was folded completely into the whipped cream before partially folding in rhubarb. Having made also crème anglaise before, I, of course, wanted a new slant, so that lovely, thick custard sauce was made not with milk, but with cream. So what we have here is essentially unfrozen ice cream threaded with puree and topped with rhubarb coulis. Details on making the custard will be posted within this month. 

Beautiful billowy bounty

The day after, leftovers! A boon for both the chef, moi, and the dishwasher par excellence, The Calm One. Roast beef was sliced thinly and served with its reduced red wine/pan drippings sauce, along with mayonnaise, cornichons, pickled onions.

Once opened, wine is best consumed within several days

Buttered Brussels sprouts and roasted potatoes were reheated in the oven. Some astuces for great roasted taters is to give the pot of drained, quartered (if smaller, halved), cooked-till-nearly-fork-tender potatoes several good shakes to create texture, and then put them in a roasting pan in which butter was melted till bubbling either in the oven or on the stovetop depending on the pan's functionality, carefully coating all the pieces with the sizzling fat. Leave some room between each piece. Roast at any temperature that is convenient, until well browned. In a hot oven, it takes around thirty minutes.

Meanwhile, in The Furry Kingdom, where Dirac the Cat may be . . .

Eli the Kitten, formerly Eliza the Lost Kitten (who has found a home, ours!), is not far behind. We now think that he was very young when I found him dashing across a busy street, probably closer to two months than the three that we had guessed. Hence, his youth made it difficult to identify his sex. But as he got huskier, I realised, oh, it's has to be Eli, not Eliza. Eli likes to suckle the crook of my arm, especially if it is clothed in my favourite flannel shirt. Only recently has he started to meow, before it was more of a rumbling burple which was heart-rending in its innocence. He regards Dirac as his lost mama, running under his big stepbrother's belly for some determined milking. One is disappointed, the other, beyond irritated.

Ernest the Sous-Sol Cat (formerly Ernest the Stray Cat) continues his half-wild, half-tame ways. Some cold nights, he stays in the mud/potting rooms where his bedding, food, and litter are kept, during others, he is out-and-about, eventually returning, often in a disheveled state, but always pleased with himself.

Ernest loves to lie on the chopped-down mustard plants which had served as an overwintering, living mulch

À la prochaine!

RELATED POSTS

Shrimp Bisque
Rhubarb fool made with custard and cream