I would like to draw your attention to a little-known (outside the Jura-Massif) cheese called comte (but of course it is pronounced cone-tay, just because the French can't let a consonant be a consonant). Like many mountain cheeses from that area of the world, it resembles a gruyere—a little nutty, a little creamy, a little tiny bit salty. Once I had it in a little restaurant in France near the Swiss border, and i said "ah tres bon!" or something along those lines, and the French woman who served it to us said "Les vaches! Les montagnes!"and she was right, the cows and the mountains made it good. When you ride a bike around there, there are all these cows grazing on the hillsides, wearing big bells that make this lovely hollow ringing sound. It is the sound of cheese in the making. You can get it at the cheese store in Noe Valley where they are so mean and unpleasant (except on Tuesdays when my friend Arzu works there.) I'm going to put in an order and we can all enjoy it together. Perhaps in the mountains.
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7 replies on “Comte”
So, to clarify, are you implying that great cheese comes from happy cows, and that happy cows come from France? Who do you think would win in a rumble of happy California cows versus happy French cows? I think La Vache Qui Rit would kick some serious California cow ass.
I'm saying that in France they have something called The Comte Brotherhood, or The Order of the Noble Wines of the Jura and Comte Cheese, and that every year a few "well-known personalities from public life, recognised for their attachment to Epicurean principles" are initiated into the Brotherhood. So, since it appears that the French cows have their own sort of pact des loups, i think they could kick some serious california ass. plus they come from a place where there is winter. everyone knows the california cows have been weakened by the good life.
Administrator, stop being so CONTROLLING. You're like our MOTHER. It makes me DEEPLY DEEPLY UNCOMFORTABLE. Anyway, to clarify, the plan is: we spirit ourselves into France, we train their cows in "le guerre des champs" (rural warfare) and "le guerre des cafes" (Parisian warfare), then we take over the small villages, then stage simultaneously Cow Army Invasions of Paris, Lyon, Toulouse and Cannes. The ferrets may try to form a resistance army, but we can crush them with our superior air power and catapult technology.
See, isn't this nice? Someone posts a thoughtful little vignette about cheese, we all learn a little, we make plans. Everybody a winner.
I would like to take a moment to respond to charges that I am being "controlling" … Okay, so, we had a little list where everyone could go and post whatever they wanted. It was called Dirty Sanchez, and, umm, no one ever used it. So I said: Maybe people will use it if I bound the conversation with, say, a topic. Hence, CHEESE. We all like cheese; we talk about it all the time; it's a good domain for little nugs of commentary. So when list members (Leslie) began by posting things that weren't about cheese, I just tried to steer the conversation back to cheese. No biggie. No harm, no foul. Nugs, not scuds, Leslie.
OK, so, to clarify, we stage a bloodless coup of "CHEESE" by feeding the Administrator huge portions of cheese until he falls into a non-life-threatening dairy coma. We take over. We re-write the CHEESE style guide. Wait a minute, what are nugs? What about hugs? When do we get to the hugs? Whatever. Everything I've posted has been about CHEESE, and if He Who Walks in Darkness is too narrow-minded to see that, it's his loss.
How long have you lived in Northern California, Leslie? After all this time, how can you be unfamiliar with the all-purpose stoner term "nug"? Keep on truckin.