The Cheesemonger's Tales

Home > Other > The Cheesemonger's Tales > Page 10
The Cheesemonger's Tales Page 10

by Arthur Cunynghame


  Large industrial cheesemakers standardise the milk from several farms so that they can produce a consistent, if sometimes bland, quality.

  The artisan cheesemaker works with milk which is marginally different every day. So what he produces will be more individual in character; varying slightly from day to day which is part of their charm.

  Once the milk is in the vat, there are further choices for the cheesemaker. Reduce the fat by skimming the milk, or add extra cream. Mix the morning and evening milk or keep them separate. Perhaps the biggest question is whether to pasteurise or not.

  At the heart of the cheesemaking process is the separation of the curds and whey. First a live bacterium, known as a starter culture, is added to sour the milk, converting lactose into lactic acid. The choice of starter culture can have a big effect on the flavours which are in the cheese. Some work quicker than others, some work best at different temperatures, some tolerate salt better than others. Some are freeze dried; others are liquid. With the liquid ones, it is necessary to use a different strain each day of the week and, quite often, I have selected cheeses from several different days, only to find they have all been made using the same starter; one which gives a flavour I find particularly attractive.

  The next stage is the addition of rennet to hasten the separation of curds and whey. Rennet is an enzyme from the lining of a calf’s stomach. These days a vegetarian substitute is sometimes used, especially in Britain, where it is seen as a marketing point to sell ‘vegetarian’ cheese. Some rennet substitutes are natural, for instance thistles, but most are genetically modified. They can give a bitter taste to cheeses and many cheese connoisseurs prefer cheeses made with traditional, animal rennet.

  The temperature now is absolutely critical. A high temperature will expel whey from the curd particles so, for a hard cheese, the temperature is raised, a process known as scalding. Conversely, the temperature is kept lower for soft cheeses. High temperatures tend to give a hard rubbery curd, while low temperatures will give a soft, jelly-like curd.

  The mass of curds and whey will be cut by special knives; for hard cheeses the cutting will be very fine to release even more whey, for soft cheeses the curd is hardly cut at all. Then the whey is drawn off leaving just the curds.

  Timing and temperature is critical throughout and it is largely the combination of these two factors which is one of the biggest factors determining the many different styles of cheese.

  For hard cheeses, the curd is now broken up into small pieces, known as milling, and salt is added to act as a preservative and flavour enhancer, before the curd is placed in the moulds. For soft cheeses, the curd will be gently ladled into the moulds, disturbing it as little as possible.

  Once in the moulds, the curd will be left to drain naturally for soft cheeses and pressed to expel still more whey for hard cheeses.

  The final stage is ripening or maturing and it is during this stage that the character of a cheese really starts to develop. Until now most cheeses are little more than lumps of pale curd; wetter or drier certainly but seldom with very much flavour. As the cheese starts to ripen, the flavour starts to develop, the rind starts to form, the blue or white moulds start to grow and the cheese starts to take on its visual, aromatic and gastronomic character. Some cheeses ripen from the inside out (Stilton, Cheddar, Beaufort) whereas others ripen from the outside, with the centre being the last to ripen (Brie, St Marcellin, Epoisses). Soft cheeses ripen quite quickly and are generally ready to eat within a few weeks. Hard cheeses mature more slowly taking anything from a few months to three years or more for extra hard cheeses like Parmigiano Reggiano.

  Cheese rinds

  A rind is an integral part of any cheese, except for the very freshest, or one which has been artificially prevented from forming a rind by, for instance, immersing in brine or wrapping in something which prevents or restricts the air getting to the cheese; for example wax, or plastic vacuum bags. Rindless cheeses include Feta and some blue cheeses, such as Roquefort, which are wrapped in foil. Such examples can be pretty good, but generally rindless cheese is less interesting. A common reason for preventing the formation of a rind is to maintain the moisture content of the cheese and thus keep the price of the cheese low.

  Most cheese rinds are simply a hardened bit of the cheese, caused by the curd drying out. This is either completely natural or encouraged by encasing in a bandage of cheese cloth, or rubbing the outer surface of the cheese with salt, brine, butter or olive oil. Other rinds result from the formation of benign moulds. These are known as ‘Bloomy Rind’ cheeses or ‘Croûte Fleuri’ in French. They include Brie and Camembert. Still another style of cheese is the ‘Washed Rind’ family where the outer surface of the cheese is washed or brushed with a liquid such as brine, wine, beer or brandy, to encourage the growth of a benign bacterium, B.Linens. These cheeses are usually easily distinguishable by their russet/terracotta coloured rinds and pungent smell.

  So, most cheeses are likely to have rinds and the question arises: Which rinds should I eat? I know people who will cut the rind off every cheese, and others who eat all rinds. The rind always has a different texture and flavour to the interior of the cheese and whether you eat the rind or not should be determined principally by whether you find the rind enhances, or detracts from, your enjoyment of the cheese. It’s as simple as that.

  Personally, I tend to side with the great Pierre Androuet who recommended removing the rind on most cheeses. I certainly would not recommend eating the rind of a cheese which has not been covered in transit.

  Organic Cheeses

  Mary Langman was one of the small band of people who, with Eve Balfour at their head, established The Soil Association in 1946. I know Mary as the sister of Elizabeth Montgomery of Cheddar cheese fame. Now Montgomery Cheddar is not organic but it most certainly is made in the spirit of ‘Healthy soil, healthy plants, healthy people’ which Eve Balfour put at the centre of her philosophy. With today’s penchant for everything to be enumerated, authenticated and certified, organic foods have, I think, in some ways, taken a wrong turning. The idea of flying in beans from Kenya bearing an organic label would, I suspect, be an anathema to Eve Balfour. Cheeses such as Montgomery, produced according to long established principles and relatively locally, would be much more up her street.

  Most of the best cheeses are made on a small scale using non-intensive methods in harmony with nature; but not many of them have ticked all the boxes and gone through the full certification process. For the main part they have not done this because cheesemakers and bureaucracy are not natural bedfellows. Most of their production methods are organic in all but name; but they are not necessarily able to demonstrate, to the satisfaction of an inspector, that they have followed all the rules all of the time. So here, perhaps, we have the answer as to why not many of the best cheeses are certified organic.

  “But,” I hear you say, “I can find organic cheeses in supermarkets.” Yes you can but, with a few honourable exceptions, these organic cheeses are so labelled more for marketing reasons than for any gain in quality. A large cheese factory will buy in organic milk which is probably of high quality and which should, in theory, result in a better quality cheese. But all too often the large factory, because it needs large sales volumes to survive, produces a bland cheese which does not prove too challenging for consumers.

  There are one or two really good cheeses which are also organic; Daylesford, until January 2006 made by Joe Schneider, is a supreme example. Joe is a great cheesemaker but I really believe his cheese would not be so wonderfully complex if he did not use organic milk of the highest quality. You only have to taste the liquid milk to realise that it is something very different from your average pinta.

  So yes, I would certainly like to see more of the better producers going organic. I believe in organic principles but, as with so many things, the rules need to be simplified for the smaller producers. Perhaps then we would see more truly outstanding organic cheeses. But, in the meantime, please
don’t let the fact that a cheese is not organic put you off from buying it.

  A STINKER FROM DIJON

  Epoisses: Jean Berthaut

  To lunch at La Pomme d’Or with Jean Berthaut and there I heard his story.

  As a boy, just after the Second World War, he watched his father struggle to establish his cheesemaking business. The war had decimated production of Epoisses. At the turn of the century there were 300 farms producing Epoisses. In 1945 there were just two. Jean’s father, Robert, had a dream; to recreate the cheese he remembered enjoying, that his grandmother made.

  Robert laboured hard, ridiculed by his neighbours for his old fashioned ways. They all had big new tractors; what was Robert doing, messing around with a few smelly cheeses? Who would buy them? Alfred Le Blanc of La Pomme d’Or was his first customer. There is a photograph of him still, in the restaurant sitting in the chair by the fire where I am sitting now. At first Robert’s cheeses were poor and often there were tears in his eyes as he buried his failures in a field at night so the neighbours would not see. But Robert was a Berthaut and determination is in their blood. He went to talk to other grandmothers who knew how to make the cheese; and little by little his cheeses improved.

  He established his business and, when Jean returned from military service in 1979, there was a good business for him to develop. Through these years of the 1960’s and 1970’s Berthaut was the sole producer of true Epoisses. Others were selling cheese they called Epoisses but usually it was not washed in Marc de Bourgogne, nor properly matured. Robert applied for Appellation Contrôlée status in 1965 in an attempt to ensure that standards were maintained. He was refused because he was the only producer. However, Appellation Contrôlée status was finally granted in 1991 and now there are three other producers.

  Berthaut is still the largest, making over half of all the Epoisses produced each year. In addition there is Fromagerie Gaugry, who moved into new premises in 2004; the old Pastis Ricard building on the N74 at Gevrey Chambertin. And there is Fromagerie Germain, now owned by the giant Triballat, and a single farmhouse producer, Marroniers. Between them, these four firms make nearly 2½ million cheeses each year and consumption is increasing by 10%.

  And what of the history of Epoisses? The village grew up around an ancient fortress with double fortification, in a strategically important position on the route between Dijon and Paris. Strategically important but built in the middle of a plain and not naturally an easily defended site. Inside the fortifications are 15th century houses and a rare dovecote containing 3000 nesting holes as well as a 13th century church. In the 16th century a Cistercian religious community was established at Epoisses which, it is said, brought with it the recipe for Epoisses. When they left in the 18th century, the farmers took over production. It was during the period 1775 to 1914 that the production methods of Epoisses were really established and documented. There was, however, a lot of individuality, with over 300 farms producing more Epoisses than is made nowadays. The after-effects of the First and Second World Wars almost destroyed production of the cheese. Farmers were not interested when there were plenty of alternatives, such as cereal cultivation, which were much easier and which were encouraged by the authorities in order to ensure self-sufficiency after the deprivations of wartime. Which brings us to Robert Berthaut and his determination which brought about the renaissance of the cheese.

  Not content with resting on laurels others might consider sufficient, Jean Berthaut shows a determination almost equal to his father’s. Jean had noticed gradual changes in the milk he was receiving from the 33 farms which send him their milk. It was losing its character, losing its flavour, becoming more bland and was, in Jean’s words, “simply like a chemical.” He put this down to the fact that farmers were changing to Friesian/Holstein cows, the ubiquitous black and whites that each produce 14,000 litres per year. So Jean pushed for a change to the appellation regulations and, after a five-year year changeover period, the milk will have to come from just 3 breeds: Brune, Montbéliarde and Simmental. These breeds typically produce less than two thirds of the volume of the Friesian/Holstein cows, but the milk is much richer and more full-flavoured.

  Another decision Jean had to make concerned pasteurisation. In the late 1990’s Jean could not be sure of the quality of all the milk he was receiving. Apart from changing the breed of their cows, some farmers had allowed hygiene standards to drop. The answer, of course, was to improve hygiene standards but this would take time. Jean could not risk problems with his cheese so, reluctantly, he took the decision to pasteurise the milk.

  With the change back to traditional breeds, the lower yields and an increased awareness of the need for good hygiene, milk standards are improving and I discussed with Jean my hopes that he might return to making his cheese from raw milk. He feels that now he could do this, but he would lose his new market in America which does not permit raw milk cheeses less than 90 days old. He also believes that pasteurisation may be necessary for him, not to ensure the milk is safe, but to prove to the authorities that it is safe. It is sad to think that commerce and regulation are depriving us of cheeses which I feel might be even more interesting and certainly more complex.

  Making the cheese is slow and complicated. The benign bacterium, B.Linens, is added to the milk which is kept in a vat overnight. The following morning the milk is transferred into rectangular ‘buckets’ where the curds form very slowly over a period of about 16 hours, because little or no coagulant is used. This ensures that the finished cheese is moist and creamy with a fine texture. When the curd has formed sufficiently, it is ladled, by hand, into the moulds where it is allowed to drain naturally for a further day. Once out of the moulds, the cheeses are sprinkled lightly with salt and then left to dry further in special drying rooms, before finally reaching the affinage, or ripening, rooms. Here they ripen for at least three weeks, often longer, during which time each cheese is washed by hand three times each week with a brine solution which is progressively enriched with Marc de Bourgogne. It is this washing process combined with the bacterium, B.Linens, which was added to the milk, which is responsible for the russet colour of the rind and, to a very large extent, determines the style of the cheeses because it affects the way the cheese proteins break down.

  The rind of the finished cheese is smooth, almost glossy, and a slightly cloudy golden russet colour. Its rind also offers an initial experience of the penetrating, spirituous smell of the cheese. It is a real stinker! But the amazing thing is that, despite its ferocious aroma, the taste of the cheeses is remarkably well balanced, with beautiful rich and rounded savoury flavours. The inside of the cheese is a pale, ivory colour, perhaps with hints of terracotta. Nowadays it is almost invariably sold in small wooden cylindrical boxes that hold together the cheese, which otherwise can be very runny. It is a small flat disc about 10 cm in diameter and 4 cm in height which ripens from the rind inwards. The Parisians like Epoisses creamy right to the centre but Jean Berthaut says he likes it best when 1/3rd of the cheese remains firm at the centre. For Jean, the ideal age of his cheese is six weeks from the date it was made. When I tasted cheeses of various ages with Jean, it was apparent that during the first four weeks the cheese changes little. It is the final weeks or even days which are critical when the true, glorious character of the cheese is revealed with its noble, tangy, fruity flavour.

  The intense, rich flavour of Epoisses demands in any accompanying food, either a plain flavour, which it can overwhelm, or an equally rich flavour with which it can play on equal terms. The former is typified by new potatoes, simply boiled, with Epoisses gently melted over them, much as one would serve Raclette. Perhaps add a little finely chopped sorrel, or even cumin, to the Epoisses during melting. The texture of the potatoes is a wonderful foil to the Epoisses and there is absolutely no clash of flavours, the Epoisses winning hands down. For a more substantial meal there is little better to partner Epoisses than a steak of Charolais beef. Cook the steak to your choice and again, gently melt the Epoisse
s over the meat. In both cases make certain that the cheese is not bubbly or over heated – just simply and gently melted in a warm oven. Serious pleasure awaits you.

  Other full, pungent cheeses

  Ami Chambertin is almost identical to Epoisses, but is a brand made exclusively by the firm of Gaugry, just outside the village of Gevrey Chambertin in Burgundy.

  Carré de l’Est is made in a two styles, which is confusing; one is a bloomy rind, like Camembert, and the other is a washed rind like Epoisses. The latter is the more distinctive and worthwhile. Made in eastern France, it has a full, powerful flavour and can be quite salty.

  Celtic Promise is an interesting cheese, which has won Supreme Champion at The British Cheese Awards. It is made by a Dutchman, John Savage-Onstwedder, in west Wales and has quite a firm texture, not unlike a young Gouda, but the rind is then washed in cider which gives it a much fuller flavour.

  Although similar to Epoisses, to me Langres always has the hint of a fine grain texture, which is never quite lost no matter how mature. The flavour is more sour milk than Epoisses but lasts wonderfully. It is made near the town of the same name north of Dijon.

  Livarot is one of the great cheeses of Normandy. Easily recognisable by the five circles of raffia, which encircle it and which gave it it’s nickname of Le Petit Colonel (after the five stripes of a French colonel). Firm though yielding in texture, it often has a few tiny holes. The flavour is complex and lingering.

  Pont L’Evêque, also from Normandy, is very similar to Livarot but in a square shape and thinner, which makes it more likely to dry out and consequently more difficult to find in good condition.

  Maroilles, originally a monastery cheese from the north of France, can be very powerful, I would say overpowering; but, when good, it has an appealing bitter/sweet balance.

 

‹ Prev