I think macaroni and cheese is the dish that first introduces you to how good cheese can be, and how much better good cheese can make something taste. Call it what you will — shells and cheese, mac 'n cheese, quattro formaggi, — the combination of baking pasta and cheese together is one of the best uses of cheese in the world. It's also a good way to use up any cheese you might have sitting around in the cheese drawer. I made it this weekend using fiscalini aged cheddar reserve, mixed in with a little cave-aged gruyere and some reggie. MMMMMMMMMMMMM.
Category: cheese
Vento d'Estate
I've been intrigued by this cheese for a while now. It's a barrel-aged cow's milk cheese from Italy that has hay pressed into the rind. At the store, where the pre-cut pieces sit on top of the giant wheel, you can see the long strands of hay in the rind. Needless to say, vento d'estate has more than a whiff of the barnyard. It's tasty, with a little tang and a little sweet summery goodness. It makes you feel like you are some pampered Italian cow, grazing in some magnificent field right below a cathedral.
Humbird
I'll be visiting here in a few hours: Humbird Cheese Mart. I'll let you know. I'm not sure I did this link right.
Caciotta dei Boschi
Italian for "trufflicious" (Venetian dialect) or "magically delicious" (Tuscan dialect) or "as good as crack" (Corsican), caciotta dei boschi is a homely looking cheese. Its yellow-beige flesh is spreckled with brown truffle bits, giving it the appearance of say, a quail egg. Imagine, for a moment, the misty forest, and the trees that grow there in the black earth, and the roots beneath the trees, crumbling and damp, making a home for the hunted Truffles, brown fungal babies of the perpetual night. Anyway. Caciotta dei boschi has a dank, briney bite that lingers. The sheep's milk base combines with the magic truffle bits to co-host an earthy, smoky, yummy party in your mouth. One can almost feel the warm moist pig snout pausing to caress its truffle quarry before rousting it from its sub-arborial cubby. C. d. B. can be eaten for dinner, followed by Girl Scout cookies, while watching Rounders starring Matt Damon and Edward Norton on cable. No crackers necessary.
Espadrilles and guns
I'm assuming we will interrupt our regularly scheduled programming for round-the-clock coverage of the situation in Zurich, namely, that talented actor Don Johnson has been detained at the Swiss-German border with a car full of $8 BILLION "in bonds, stocks and credit notes in his possession, stuffed in a suitcase". I'm both shocked and saddened by these events. One might say that Johnson's story has more holes than Swiss cheese. And yes, that's BILLION, with a B.
Civilized Living
I've always been a proponent of civilized living (and I think we are all agreed that cheese is the bedrock upon which civilization is constructed) and today, after an unextremely uncivilized wait at the post office to turn over things that already had postage on them but weighed more than a pound and were only going to two separate addresses but were in six separate packages (why can't the intern ever grasp the difference between international and domestic mail? why?), I realized I needed a good dose of civilized living. So I went to lunch at Metropole and had a nice sandwich. More importantly, I had a glass of wine with my lunch. Why are we not drinking wine or beer or cocktails at lunch? Because Specialty's doesn't serve them? What has happened to the heyday of the three-martini lunch? Here's the thing—it really took the edge off, that glass of wine. Civilization is ending (it feels like the entire known world is hurtling towards apocalypse) and so maybe we ought to be taking advantage of as much as the civilized world can offer us—drinks with lunch, an entire cake of Humboldt Fog to ourselves, the consolations of High Life.
Wisconsin
Wisconsin researcher makes a better cheddar — Associated Press — Published March 12, 2003 — MADISON, Wis. — A University of Wisconsin-Madison professor says he's found a way to take the bitterness out of cheddar — a discovery that could save cheesemakers some serious bread. Food science professor Jim Steele said an enzyme reduces the bitter taste that afflicts low-grade cheddar cheese. "It has the potential to give consistency to the quality of cheese that we produce, and save us a whole lot of money,'' said John Umhoefer, executive director of the Wisconsin Cheese Makers Association. Cheesemakers start by mixing a medley of bacteria called a starter culture with warm milk. They sometimes add a second batch of bacteria, called an adjunct culture. To make cheddar, they mix in an organism called Lactobacillus helveticus, which smooths out the cheese's taste and reduces bitterness. Steele and his team have worked to identify what in the organism produces this desirable effect. They hoped they could then find a way to produce the effect in the starter culture, which would drop the cost and improve the cheese. The researchers sequenced the 2,400 genes in Lactobacillus in 2001, and Steele's team identified the desired gene within six months. Cheesemakers can now add that gene to starter cultures. Paul McShane, sales manager for the small Brookfield cheese company Roth Kase, thinks Steele's enzyme would take the mystique out of cheese production. "Cheesemaking is an art, and you lose something — a quality — when you try to take shortcuts,'' he said. But Bill Schlinsog, chief judge at this week's 2003 U.S. Championship Cheese Contest in Milwaukee, hailed the discovery as a weapon against bitter cheese. "It's undesirable,'' he said. "And if it can be avoided, then that's great.''
Cave-Aged Gruyere
This cheese is like that boy your mother wants you to marry—safe, reliable, a little bit predictable. you know it's always going to treat you right. you hold the idea of it in reserve like an extra ace tucked away. when you've been burned by flashier, sexier, more exciting cheeses—what a good idea brescianella seemed like at the time!—cave-aged gruyere is there to pick you up the morning after. it doesn't ask questions, doesn't press its agenda, it's just there, solid and dependable. it knows the tortoise always wins the race in the end.
Capricious
An aptly-named aged-goat cheese so playful and salty that it brings to mind the Great God Pan cavorting around a field with his pipes, surrounded by half-naked nymphs. I've only seen this once at the Rainbow (the cheese, not Pan—I doubt Pan would grace the vegetarian aisles of the Rainbow, unless it were to wreak some merry mischief with his pipes) and more often at the Ferry Plaza Farmers Market. Like Pan, capricious can go either way—it can be full of whimsy and charm, or it can cross the line from mischief to malice without warning.
Carnia Altibut Mezzano
Last night at Delfina I sat by myself at the counter and made a new friend: mezzano, a playful mix of cow and goat milks. It's from Friuli, one of those Italian mountain areas, and it tastes the way you would expect—like cows and goats grazing on tender grass at a high altitude, surrounded by rocky outcroppings. It's tangy and creamy, yet has a strong, rugged character, just like a mountain range. You taste it and you think of Giorgione's shepherd, standing watch over the storm. It's not unlike a mancheog; Delfina served it with quince paste. It's the kind of cheese that makes you glad you're sitting at the counter, just you and mezzano, rather than sitting at the table next to you, where the man keeps stroking his goatee as he bores his companions.