Happy Hour

If that doesn't touch you in a deep and emotional way, I'm not sure I want to know you.

Today's Fromage Savage: Berthaut Affine de Chablis Epoisses

Purchased from Andronicos, San Francisco (and then gifted to me by Andrea, to whom I am forever indebted)

Type: Soft

Teat: Cow's milk

Trappings: Mary’s Gone Crackers Original Seed Crackers

Taste: It pains me to consider that I was in my 30s when I was introduced to Epoisses, because we are clearly meant to be life partners.

It is velvety. It is creamy. It tastes earthy in a kind of peat-y way, strong without being overwhelming, assuming you let it warm up.*



It is also stinky. Really, really stinky. Like, you’ll need to wrap it in plastic wrap and then seal it in a Tupperware or you will be absolutely certain that something has died in your fridge.

But I think you grow fond of even the weird, warty parts of your great loves, so there’s something about Epoisses’ stink that I’m actually kind of into.

The washed rind is especially strong, and although it's edible (and although I ate it), I confess to liking the actual cheese better than the rind, which is washed with a French brandy made of what’s pressed out of the skins and seeds left over after actual wine is made. Which, in my opinion, explains the strength of Epoisses’ smell, because let’s face it, what sounds rosy-smelling about double-pressed grape skins?

A note about the crackers, by the way: I know they look like they’re made out of twigs and dirt, and they probably are, but they actually ended up being really tasty with the cheese. A plain cracker mightn’t have stood up to the Epoisses’ oomph.

If I don’t quite literally eat myself sick on this stuff, it will be a miracle.


*Instead of waiting for it to hit room temp, I snarfed down the first wedge I cut. That was something of a mistake—this is a cheese that pretty much has to be warmed up, because cold, I think it actually borders on inedible, flavor-wise. Not that that stopped me.

Where Have I Been?

I know--I’ve seemingly gone and contributed to the ill-making magnitude of Internet detritus, adding yet another false-started blog to the collection of old wedding invitations and abandoned college syllabi clogging up our series of tubes.

But I swear I have a good excuse. And that excuse is mucus.

Mucus and cheese are a bad combination. And lest I travel further down this path to Grossville, I will stop after noting that mucus has been a big part of my world for the past few weeks, so cheese has not. Unless you count soy cheese, which I did resort to at one point.

In theory, I don’t mind soy cheese. In practice, though, you end up with something that looks something like this:



That's not what cheese should do, on a burrito or in any other capacity. And when your friend and co-worker has gifted you a small, round container of something soft and delicious-looking that fills your refrigerator with such a gorgeous stink that the dog won’t go into the kitchen, soy cheese is not going to cut it. (Ha.)

So as of tonight, I’m returning to the cherished environs of my deli drawer. Stay tuned--if the smell is any indication, I’m in for a stinky-cheese experience of epic proportions.