The Cheesemonger's Tales

by Arthur Cunynghame

  In some ways, sherry is a victim of its own success. Popular in England since Tudor times, its immense popularity, especially in the 1950’s and 60’s, led in the 1970’s and 80’s to a degrading of styles and quality. Many of the glorious wines that this corner of south-west Spain can produce were sweetened for export and blended into a pale reflection of their true style. The availability of export subsidies resulted in some dubious transactions whose primary aim was to obtain the subsidy, whilst shipping wine of the lowest quality. Unfortunately this wine eventually found its way on to the market, driving down prices and quality. The large bodegas responded by reducing the quality of all but their premium wines. Fortunately most have seen the error of their ways and the quality of most sherries has now been restored to its rightful level.

  Foremost amongst the quality bodegas is Emilio Lustau which, apart from supplying all the usual sherry blends, also offers a range of wonderful ‘almacenista’ sherries. These come exclusively from some 50 small bodegas and represent sherry in its most pure and classical form, being full of character and individuality. Whilst some may own their own vines, the more usual system is for the almacenista to buy from farmers and introduce their wines into their own solera system for maturing. In the solera system, which is at the heart of sherry production, rows of barrels are stacked in layers. When there is a need for bottling, part of each barrel in the bottom layer, which contains the oldest wine, is drawn off for bottling. The barrels are then topped up with younger wine from the layer above, which refreshes the older wine and, at the same time, takes on some of the character of the older wine. These barrels in turn are topped up from the layer above and so on up the layers to the top of the stack, where the barrels are replenished with the latest harvest. Some of these soleras were laid down as much as 150 years ago. The regulations stipulate that this ageing must be for at least three years but many are aged for much longer.

  The Palomino grape, grown on white compact chalky ‘albariza’ soil, dominates sherry production, although small quantities of Pedro Ximenez often grown on sandy ‘arena’ or clayey ‘barro’, land also feature, often for sweetening purposes.

  Although sherry is marketed in a sometimes bewildering range of styles, there are in fact only two basic types: Fino and Oloroso. Finos are lighter and more delicate, Olorosos are richer and heavier. But the big difference is that a natural yeast, known as flor, grows on the Finos but not on the Olorosos. The flor prevents Finos from oxidising and gives them their individual character. By contrast the Olorosos depend on oxidation for their character. Much Oloroso is used in the blends for sweet cream sherries.

  Dry Oloroso is very much at the specialist end of the spectrum, with patchy distribution and minimal sales. My favourite Dry Oloroso is Pata de Gallina from the bodega owned by Juan Garcia Jarana. Juan’s bodega, in the old Santiago quarter of Jerez de la Frontera, is one of the smaller ones; delightful in every way. Like many almacenistas, his main business is not sherry; in his case it is motorcycles. But in 1979 he decided to buy the bodega, which was originally founded in the 19th century, in order to indulge his love of fine sherry.

  The Pata de Gallina solera consists of 38 butts (the special sherry barrel containing 490 litres) and the wines are aged for 20 years. Importantly, this Oloroso is dry, as it should be, rather than being sweetened which happens all too often for export. It is a rich russet brown mahogany in colour with a marvellous spicy aroma of dried fruits with hints of leather, oranges and nuts. The delicious lingering flavour has a ripe-fruit sweetness but is classically dry with a raisiny, burnt-caramel flavour reminiscent of prunes and walnuts. This is sherry of the highest quality.

  Cooking with cheese

  I find that I eat so much cheese in its natural state that I tend to avoid dishes that contain cheese as an ingredient. This is a pity as I miss out on some truly wonderful recipes. Cheese is extremely versatile as an ingredient and can be melted, sliced or grated into many superb dishes, from starters to light simple snacks, to main courses and desserts.

  Many people think of ‘mousetrap’ when choosing cheese with which to cook; this again is a mistake. The French make extensive use of Roquefort and Comté, two of the most expensive cheeses, in their recipes. They do so because, by using a good quality, strong-flavoured cheese they actually need less of it. This means that it is not actually as expensive as it might seem. Needing to use less cheese is also a point worth remembering when it comes to making light dishes such as soufflé, or when counting the calories.

  Cheeses that I consider are specifically designed as ‘ingredient’ cheeses include: Feta, the sharp, salty, crumbly essential ingredient for Greek salads. It should be made from sheep’s milk but often is cows’ milk or occasionally goats’ milk.

  Mozzarella should be an essential ingredient for pizzas but all too often is replaced by cheaper alternatives. Genuine mozzarella is made from buffalo milk, is pearl white and has a delightfully mild, lactic, slightly sour flavour. It is delightful sliced and served with tomatoes, olives, basil leaves and anchovies, and seasoned with a little olive oil, salt and freshly ground black pepper.

  The classic way to enjoy Raclette is melted and served with new potatoes. Simple, easy and guaranteed to bring back memories of skiing trips.

  A WINTER’S TALE

  Le Mont d’Or (Or Vacherin du Hauts Doubs): Sancey Richard

  There is no surer sign that autumn has arrived than the appearance in the shops of Le Mont d’Or. Just as bonfire night, the clocks going back and the first home rugby games signify the end of summer, so Mont d’Or, to me, heralds the imminent change to the gastronomic joys of winter which lie ahead. Made by dairies which make Comté in summer, Mont d’Or remains a seasonal cheese; available only between September and May. It can actually be made only between 15th August and 15th March but the longer period of availability is to allow for ripening.

  Mont d’Or has a stunning appearance, a haunting aroma, a satiny smooth texture and a unique resinous flavour, all of which combine to make it a truly remarkable cheese.

  It comes wrapped in a circle of spruce bark, to hold it together, and is presented in a wooden box. The spruce bark gives it a vaguely resinous flavour but there are also hints of nutmeg, mushrooms, cabbage and bacon. These are not always strong flavours but they combine together to great effect, and the result is a full and substantial flavour.

  The silky smooth texture of the ivory-coloured paste should be softly flowing but can become exceeding runny. Often the best way to serve the cheese is with a spoon!

  The cheese takes its name from the Mont d’Or peak in the mountainous Jura region of eastern France, close by the Swiss border. The area is heavily forested, with lots of timber yards and any number of huge lorries carrying felled trees. Interspersed amongst the trees are open pastures, rich in wild grasses in summer, providing ideal grazing for the local Montbéliarde cows which give wonderful milk for making Comté cheese. In winter, however, the region is snow-covered and, while skiers appear as if out of nowhere, the cows are confined to their sheds. They are fed hay made the previous summer (no silage is permitted) which gives milk which is less fruity and paler in colour and often of insufficient quantity to make a whole 30 kg wheel of Comté. So the dairies had the idea of making a smaller, soft cheese instead, and Mont d’Or was born. How blessed we are that they did so, as otherwise we might never have tasted this outstanding cheese.

  For over 200 years farmers on both sides of the border have produced the same style of cheese, known as Vacherin de Mont d’Or; but French production had fallen substantially due to difficulty in distributing the fragile cheese, until the 1960’s when it began to rise again. This prompted the Swiss into action and, in the 1970’s, they were able to appropriate the name for themselves, forcing the French to call their cheeses either Le Mont d’Or or Vacherin du Haut Daubs. The Swiss now use pasteurised milk, and the Mont d’Or peak itself is in France, so I prefer to think of France as the true home to the cheese. There is no longer any far
mhouse production but 11 dairies in France make a total of some 3,500 tons – or nearly 7 million of the small cheeses; a huge increase since 1990 when production was about 700 tons.

  The Mont d’Or, which I like best, is made by Patrick Richard, in his dairy in the village of Metabief, right at the foot of the Mont d’Or peak. The dairy is run by the Sancey Richard family of three brothers, mother and sister. They buy in all their milk, which I always think is a bit of a shame, but they have a lot to do as they also run three shops where they sell 40% of their production. A nice little closed business: very low food miles.

  Patrick explained to me that a secret skill of getting the right consistency in the cheese is to cut the curd in pieces the size of walnuts and to form a thin skin around each piece so as to retain moisture, a process he called ‘coiffe’. Otherwise the cheesemaking process is much the same as for any soft cheese. Once the cheese is made, it has its protective circle of spruce bark placed around it and held in place by a small, splinter like, peg. Then it is ripened for a minimum of three weeks and preferably four weeks. For the first two weeks the cheeses are turned and brushed with salt water virtually every day and kept at 11˚c. Then they are put into their wooden boxes, which are deliberately made a little smaller than the diameter of the cheese. In order to fit the cheese in the box the bark has to be cut with a shar p knife and the cheese squeezed into the box. This has the effect of giving the top rind of the cheese its hallmark appearance of a crumpled flannel with its attractive lightly pinky, beige colour. The temperature is then reduced to 3˚c until the cheeses are ready for despatch. In general they are ready for eating within a month of leaving the dairy, but this will vary depending on the ripening carried out by the specialist cheesemonger.

  Sanchey Richard’s Mont d’Or deservedly won a gold medal at the 2006 Concours Général Agricole in Paris.

  I have two favourite ways of enjoying Mont d’Or: firstly accompanied simply by fresh French bread and a glass of Château Chalon and served, ideally, as a mid-morning snack. Secondly baked in the oven and perhaps served with new potatoes and seasoned with a little black pepper.

  The first is simplicity itself. You can either cut the cheese, as you would a cake; but this is sometimes difficult if the cheese is particularly runny. Better sometimes to cut off and remove the top surface rind of the cheese, and then either use a spoon or treat it as a fondue and dip your bread into the cheese.

  To bake in the oven, first open the box and cut a small hole of 3 to 5 cm diameter in the centre of the cheese. Insert one or two cloves of garlic into the rind if you wish. Pour approx 10cl of dry white wine into the hole you made. Season with black pepper. Replace the wooden lid and wrap a piece of aluminium foil around the complete, closed box. Place in a pre-heated oven at 200°c and bake for 25 minutes. Serve with new potatoes and a bottle of Château Chalon.

  Château Chalon 1999: Domaine Berthet-Bondet

  In my experience, few English people know of Château Chalon and, of those that do, there are some who love it and others that find it simply too daunting to contemplate. I’m firmly amongst the former, especially when drinking it with Mont d’Or which, I find, is the perfect partner.

  The 12th century village of Château Chalon is impressively built on a rocky outcrop, which stands prominently above the surrounding valley. Clearly built to be easily defended, the village was also home to a Benedictine monastery which was destroyed in the French revolution. As I approached the village, up the winding road from Voiteur, I could see plenty of vineyards encircling the village but only those with a south or south-west aspect are entitled to grow the grapes for this special wine. The other vineyards must produce the humbler Côtes du Jura. It is from the Jura, with its marl and limestone soils, that the generic name Jurassic is derived.

  My destination was the 16th century house of Jean and Chantal Berthet-Bondet, set at the edge of the village in a magnificent setting. Jean and Chantal are first generation vignerons. Having met at agricultural college and sharing a liking for Vin Jaune, they decided to follow their dreams and, in 1985, bought the house and 3 hectares of vines and set about bringing life back to the domaine which had been ‘dry’ for 50 years. Today they have 10 hectares and produce marvellous wines of great character which I saw ageing in over 500 barrels in their impressive cellars.

  So, what is the character of this wine which I have described as daunting, but for which I share a liking with Jean and Chantal? Château Chalon may be considered the Premier Cru of Vin Jaune, or ‘yellow wine’. On the nose it is immediately Fino sherry and, indeed on the palate it is reminiscent of sherry. But it is somehow older and deeper in flavour than a Fino. Of course the similarity is not coincidental. It is because both Château Chalon and Fino sherry grow flor yeast on the surface of the wine as it lies ageing in oak barrels of 228 litres. In the case of Château Chalon, this ageing is for a minimum of six years during which time it is forbidden to top up the casks, and almost 40% of the wine is lost through evaporation. It is said that it was one of the monks at the Benedictine Monastery in the village who inadvertently discovered Vin Jaune by forgetting to refill a cask of wine. The flor yeast growing on the surface protects the wine from oxidation but it still takes on many of the characteristics of old white wine and the amount of evaporation intensifies the flavours in the wine. Unlike most wine cellars which are damp, it is essential that the cellars where the barrels are stored should be totally dry and well ventilated to allow the yeast to grow.

  Its character is further enhanced by ageing in bottle for anything up to 20 years. There are even examples of exceptional years being aged for over a century. The result is a wine of great intensity with a certain sourness offset by a hint of sugar. The 1999 vintage from Berthet-Bondet has a full, rich aroma and flavour with hints of dried fruits, hazelnuts, almonds, mushrooms, truffles, spices and dried herbs; and yet it retains very appealing light, high notes and possesses great elegance and finesse. Château Chalon is made from Savagnin grapes grown in one of France’s smallest appellation areas; just 60 ha. If you can not find Château Chalon, there are other vins jaunes from the Jura, notably Arbois, but you must look carefully for the words ‘Vin Jaune’ on the label as not all Arbois is. Other vins jaunes generally tend to be a little coarser and less refined than Château Chalon. Increasingly Chardonnay is being planted in the Jura which produces a pleasant enough wine but it is not vin jaune and can be overpowered by Mont d’Or.

  Resist the temptation to serve Château Chalon chilled. It is much better served at just below room temperature (15˚c - 17˚c) and cuts through the creaminess of Mont d’Or to great effect. As well as enjoying Château Chalon with Mont d’Or, I find it goes very well with Foie Gras, to make a mushroom cream sauce for chicken, or simply by itself as an aperitif. Jean recommends it with curry, but I haven’t tried this.

  Befitting the uniqueness of the wine, Château Chalon has a unique bottle, the Clavelin. This is the only bottle authorised by EU regulations to contain 62cl - a reminder that nearly 40% of every litre is lost to the angels through evaporation.

  Vin Jaune sometimes has a bad press from commentators unable to appreciate its unique merits but nonetheless Jean told me that total production remains constant, even increasing a little. It may not be a wine for you but I urge you to try it with Mont d’Or as I did on a grey November day in the Cotswolds. The day lightened as I sipped it and the pairing added to my enjoyment of both wine and cheese.

  If you find it is not for you, or can not find any, you can always try a glass of Fino sherry or Champagne or a light fruity Gamay or Chardonnay; all of which are extremely enjoyable with Mont d’Or.

  The Hygiene Police

  During my time as Chairman of The Specialist Cheesemakers’ Association, much of my time was taken up battling with the authorities on behalf of cheesemakers who were being given a tough time.

  During the 1990’s there were two major court battles. Firstly Humphrey Errington, who makes Lanark Blue cheese in Scotland, was told by his En
vironmental Health Officer that his cheese contained Listeria Monocytogenes and that a 40% mortality rate could be expected. Faced with this frightening prospect, he agreed to their request that he withdraw the cheese from sale. However, when no cases of illness came to light, he thought he should be allowed to sell his cheese. The officials did not agree.

  At an initial hearing, before magistrates, the cheese was condemned. A subsequent Judicial Review found that Humphrey had been denied natural justice and a court case before Sheriff Allan followed, during which I gave evidence. This lasted from August to October 1995 and, at the end of the case, Sheriff Allan ruled that the cheese did not fail to comply with food safety requirements. He was scathing about the officials, saying that not all strains of Listeria Monocytogenes are pathogenic, that some of the council’s witnesses were unreliable, that the tests results used by the council could not be relied upon, and that their behaviour was tantamount to harassment. He went on to say that enforcement actions by officials should be based on risk assessment and that there was no evidence that the council had done this.

  The case was brought at huge expense to the ratepayers of Lanark and Humphrey and his family suffered untold stress. However, at least it was a victory for common sense.

  But the sense of relief was short-lived, because the authorities were to have another crack at specialist cheeses in 1998 when a boy was found to have an illness, apparently caused by the bacteria E.Coli 0157.