Hello, soon-to-be-hungry people! This is DeLiz again, I know some of you haven't missed me and my mis-cheese-ious puns - others have missed me a lot, I'm sure, but anyway I've got... grate news for you. This is the post you've been waiting for. So, bries yourselves...
If you paid close attention to my mini cheese pies recipe, then this means that you know how to say ''cheese'' in Greek! ... which means that this post will be... exTYROrdinary! *ba dum tss*
On Thursday, I went with a friend to the Chewtorial, which took place at Siempre Bicycle Café - a warm cosy place, which is exactly that, a café with bicycles. But, what is the Chewtorial, you might ask. Well, it is the ultimate cheesperience! Overall, we tasted 8 different kinds of cheese from France and Ireland.
We also had a glass of Wild Thing - an organic Sauvignon Blanc, a fruity dry white wine from the region of La Mancha.
Our lovely host was wonderful telling us everything that we needed to know about each cheese we tried and guided us through the tasting process with an air of savoir vivre. She also made us be quiet and threatened she would make us sit separately, so that she could be heard while informing us about the chewtorial with cheesy details. My awesome friend, whose amazing taste I always trust, had also brought some deLizious sourdough crispbread.
If you are interested in future events, you can find The Roving Fromagiere on facebook: https://www.facebook.com/therovingfromagiere/
I took detailed notes throughout the evening. You can only imagine how excited I was.
Let's get started! I will also be giving you our rankings, mine and my friend's, which were never more than 2 points apart. We have a seriously good taste.
The first cheese we tried was goat cheese - notice its ivory colour. It was a combination of sourness, dryness and creaminess with a tense lactic feeling. It melted in my mouth with *gratifying* gooiness.
Ranking: 8.2/10
Second came an Irish cheese made of sheep's milk, with ivory-yellowish tones and teeny tiny bubbles. It was uh-mazing, incredibly strong, but not too strong, undoubtedly rich and satisfying for my palate. We held it against the light and noticed its translucent edges and how matured it was across the rind's surface. It was also very smushy and we warmed a tiny chunk like putty with our fingers, which gave out incredible sharp aromas and a bit of oil. I particularly liked this one, because it reminded of graviera, a Greek cheese that I miss immensely.
Ranking: 9.1/10
Third came the exception to the white rule, as it was yellowish, with a deep earthy aroma together with a hint of iron and cellar. I'd say it was made in a dungeon - that strong of a metallic smell it had - or maybe it smelt like water running over stones. Tasting and smelling something like this was such a unique experience for me. Its texture was interesting - despite being squishy, it would bend and snap in two instead of being gooey. It did not have a strong aftertaste.
Ranking: 6.3/10
When the fourth one came, I was meticulously taking notes, but I dropped my pen as the aftertaste hit me after a while. I cannot muster enough words to describe to you this tantalising aftertaste. I guess the longer it takes for it to reveal itself, the better the cheese. It was from Eastern France, made of cow's milk, a tough 22-month-old Comté of golden colour, forming beautiful diagonal lines when snapped. It had thick woody rind and beautiful oblong scarce bubbles. I loved how it had formed a crystallised, aminoacid build-up. I was taken aback by its spicy smell and full body even before putting it into my mouth, but nothing could have prepared me for that aftertaste. I was dumbstruck and could only articulate moans. Did I tell you about its aftertaste?
Ranking: 9.8/10
At that point, I made the fromagière chuckle by confiding in her that I listen to R'n'Brie music, while she was serving me the fifth cheese. I couldn't help it, but bear with me, seems like I was on a cheese high (no, Liz, you don't really need an excuse for punny mood, don't make excuses, we know you).
Then, we heard a prolonged ''Stooooooop it!!'', so that we could continue and there we had some 8-month-old Brie on our plates, waiting for us to taste it. It had intense pungy rawness and smelled intensely of ... cauliflower. Yes, it was cauliflower that it smelt, don't ask why, we have no idea. It had a strong vegetal smell, layer upon layer, turnips, mushrooms, broccoli, trees, a whole forest under my nose. I was running through the woods with morning dew on my feet and a piece of cheese in my hands. It made my mind water, but not my mouth - it was way too acidic and would break into pieces, despite its creaminess. It was so satiating that I didn't finish it. ''Trop'', as they say in French.
Ranking: 5.4/10
The sixth cheese was Irish, a mushroomy, mouldy, rural and very creamy Cooleyney. I got more used to it after the first few bites. Either that or somebody opened the window. The room filled with exclaims of disgust - even wine couldn't wash it off. I even resorted to the last one I didn't like - the one that smelt of cauliflower. The award we gave it was ''wow, I have never had cheese I did not like that much before''. I felt so bad that I apologised to the fromagière for my previous pun being so cheesy.
Ranking: either zero or minus something.
Next came the first cheese I have ever smelt that smelt like the sea. I gave it a sniff and there came iodium, shellfish, oysters, waves and sea breeze. I was feeling a bit nauseous, when a loud screech brought me back to reality: ''If youse keep talking, I'll split you up!''. Together with the sea, there was a hint of sweetness, like caramel. I'm not kidding - I can't explain it to you, it was amazing. Don't think I'm only using highbrow taster's vocabulary to impress you - well, maybe just a wee bit. What was impressive is that it had a bacterial rind - mould doesn't like wetness, but bacteria do. This was evident in the smell: it gave out a bit of bodily smell, maybe feet and a bit of groin. You would expect all this bodiness to pair with France, but alas, it was Irish. We would never have guessed it came from West Cork. I liked its long gooey bubbles and its chewy texture. It wasn't as mushroomy as the previous one, but it had great feet aftertaste.
Ranking: 4.1/10
I started sighing long before the next and last one was on my plate, because I knew it was blue cheese. It made me feel blue. It smelt of citrus, a strong acidic, mouldy smell, and a bit of bathtub and humidity. It had huge bubbles that had a beautiful dusty grey and powdery blue colour and that looked like the inside of rock formations. I stared at it - the blue was blossoming over the grey in a romantic way. Then, I took a bite. The familiar feeling of giving yet another chance to something you certainly don't like came back to me. I remember once many years ago when my parents had brought me some canapés from a buffet I couldn't go to and I was so, oh so excited to at least get some food, since I hadn't managed to attend. I also remember the disappointment when I tried some and thought that they had gone bad on their way home. I didn't know what blue cheese was back then, but I learnt it the hard way. Don't get me wrong - I appreciate that it was good blue cheese, though, and there is a good chance that you could like this one if you usually don't like blue cheese. Had it not stayed in my mouth for so long, I would have liked it. But nope.
Ranking according to my taste: 2.1/10
ITR (Impartial Taster Ranking): 6.6/10
And that was all, folks! My favourite part was when we got to raid the buffet with leftover cheese and I managed to wash off the blue cheese and got as much Comté as I wanted.
Say ''Cheese''!!
All in all, it was a fetastic night. Thank you.
