The Cheesemonger's Tales

by Arthur Cunynghame

  During a visit to one of the great Châteaux of Pauillac, Château Mouton-Rothschild, Rachel and I were especially privileged to taste the 1945 in half bottle. Simply amazing. Highly concentrated blackcurrant flavour. Very full, rich and powerful. Magnificent deep ruby colour. To taste it in the cellars in which it was matured, in the middle of the vineyard where it was made, was very special.

  But these are the great wines and should, perhaps, be reserved for quiet contemplation by themselves, without the intrusion of food of any type. To accompany Montgomery’s cheddar, with its huge flavour, requires a more robust, less ethereal wine. On a number of occasions, I have found that the wines coming from the Graves region, just to the south of Bordeaux, provide enough body and richness to avoid being overpowered by the cheese, whilst at the same time possessing enough finesse and elegance to be interesting in their own right. In particular the Pessac-Leognan area, which actually abuts the city, and includes the famous Château Haut Brion, has some ideal wines.

  At a recent tasting I was particularly impressed by Château La Garde 2000. The progress at the Château, since it was acquired by Dourthe in 1990, has been evident and much commented on. The vineyard consists of some 56 hectares planted with 52% Cabernet Sauvignon and 48% Merlot producing an average of some 180,000 bottles a year. There is also a small amount of white wine produced from the Sauvignon grape.

  The 2000 was immediately appealing, robust and earthy, with strong base notes, rich and robust yet with concentrated, smooth, ripe fruit and sufficient acidity and minerality to hold it together. Although still young and with much life left in it (I think one could happily drink it in 10 years time), the tannins were not too evident, and it was already very approachable. It is a lovely wine and a near perfect partner for Montgomery’s Cheddar.

  Cheesemaking in Britain

  Ever since Roman times, when it is believed the legions took Cheshire cheese back to Rome, Britain has been capable of producing world class cheeses. We may not have been the first to produce cheese; that honour almost certainly goes to somewhere near present day Iran. In all probability the first cheese was the result of an accident. It is believed that a shepherd, carrying milk in his leather bottle, found that it had curdled. This was caused by the natural presence, on the leather, of Rennet, an enzyme found on the lining of calves’ stomachs.

  Little is known about cheesemaking in Britain until the Norman Conquest when monks, accompanying William the Conqueror, built abbeys and started making cheese as they would have done previously in France. One recipe they almost certainly brought with them was for a cheese like Roquefort, made from sheep’s milk and which they made at Jervaulx and Fountains abbeys in Yorkshire. Over the centuries this cheese morphed into Wensleydale.

  With the dissolution of the monasteries under Henry VIII in 1534, production of cheese passed to farmers and their wives. In France, cheesemaking remained with the abbeys for another 250 years. As a result, I like to think that British cheeses developed a style which reflected the rural, labouring nature of their production. French cheeses developed a style which reflected the more intellectual nature of the religious communities in which they were produced. British cheeses were designed for sustenance; French cheeses became more a way of admiring the skill of the maker.

  The first ‘factory’ cheese produced in England was made at Derby in 1870. During the Second World War, when cheesemaking was strictly limited as being a poor use of labour and resources, ‘National’ cheese was produced. Restrictions remained even after the war which meant that few farmers returned to cheesemaking and the dominance of factory cheesemakers meant that little of interest was produced.

  In the 1980’s there was something of a renaissance of British cheesemaking, with a younger generation reviving old techniques and persuading those who could still remember how real cheese was made, to pass on the recipes and their skills.

  Compared with some 1,500 cheesemakers in the 1930’s, today, about 350 cheesemakers produce about 400,000 tons of cheese each year. Of these producers, two thirds make less than 50 tons, so the industry is still dominated by large factories. Another dominating factor is that 60% of the cheese produced is cheddar! Most of us are hardly adventurous, but there are increasing signs that this is changing and those producing the best quality cheeses are selling all they can make.

  The British Embassy, Paris

  In 1997 Lady Jay, the wife of our then Ambassador, Sir Michael Jay, invited me to attend a tasting of British Cheeses at the embassy in Paris. While in Paris she used all the embassy dinners and receptions to promote British foods; a tough job, which she did exceptionally well. Her natural charm gets her a long way but beneath the charm is a steely determination that British food should stand alongside, or above, French food in terms of quality.

  The history of the place is humbling. It was built by the duc de Charost between 1720 and 1723, visited by Napoleon Bonaparte (his sister owned the house), bought by The Duke of Wellington on behalf of George III in 1814 and was the venue for many a sparkling evening under the legendary ambassadorship of Duff Cooper.

  The array of British cheeses on display at the tasting that night was impressive enough to draw gasps of admiration from the assembled French food professionals and journalists. They really could not believe that Britain produced such good cheeses – it was outside their orbit and their experience. Despite this, sales of British cheeses in France remain sporadic, largely because most of the good cheeses are produced by small one or two-man businesses which simply don’t have the resources (or inclination) to export. But at least Lady Jay drew praise from the French, which is an achievement in itself.

  After the tasting we sat down for dinner in the Tapestry Dining Room. ‘We’ was Sir Michael and Lady Jay, Richard Codrington and his wife, Michel Roux and I. Michel regaled us with stories of his time working in the kitchens of the embassy. He was writing his autobiography, ‘Life is a Menu’, and wanted to revisit the kitchens. He said that nothing had changed in 50 years!

  My Star British Cheesemakers

  The renaissance in artisan British cheesemaking has thrown up some stars, who either make the cheese themselves or, in some cases, oversee the quality though without necessarily making the cheese every day. In no particular order, I would number the following amongst the very best in my roll of honour:

  Jamie Montgomery Montgomery’s Cheddar

  Mary Quicke Quicke’s Cheddar

  Simon Jones Lincolnshire Poacher

  Joe Schneider Daylesford Organic

  Barry Graham Loch Arthur

  Ruth Kirkham Kirkham’s Lancashire

  Edward & Christine Appleby Appleby’s Cheshire

  Jonathan Crump Double Gloucester

  Charles Martell Single Gloucester & Stinking Bishop

  Leon Downey Llangloffan

  John Savage Teifi

  Pam Rodway Carola

  Charlie Westhead Finn & Perroche

  Anne Wigmore Waterloo & Wigmore

  Debbie Mumford Sharpham

  Pat Aldridge Tornegus & Celtic Promise

  Alison & Kevin Blunt Golden Cross

  Mary Holbrook Tymsboro

  Robin Congdon Beenleigh Blue & Ticklemore

  Ian Skailles Cropwell Bishop Stilton

  Richard Rowlett Colston Bassett Stilton

  Margaret Mar A lbion & Delicatus

  Stella Bennett Innes Button

  Stephen Fletcher Berkswell

  THE CISTERCIANS: CHEESE’S GREAT BENEFACTORS

  Abbaye Notre Dame de Cîteaux

  Few cheeses have a better claim than Cîteaux in bringing together the two threads of this book – cheese and wine, nor to represent more explicitly the intimate historical connection between the making of cheese and religious communities. Le Fromage de Cîteaux, therefore, holds a very special place amongst all cheeses for its symbolism; and yet that would not be enough were it not also a simply wonderful cheese.

  A religious community was first established at Cîteaux in March 10
98, when Abbot Robert, and several monks, left the Benedictine abbey at Molesme and settled in the woods some 15 miles south of Dijon and 100 miles from Molesme. Their motivation for leaving was a desire to rekindle the principles of St Benedict which, they felt, were no longer followed at Molesme. By their actions they established the Cistercian order, named after their first small church at Cîteaux. From the beginning, their motto was “Ora et Labora”, “Pray and Work”; as Frère Placide told me “looking after their herd of cows was central to the founding principles of the monastery”.

  Also central to their needs was wine, both for meals and for use during holy offices. The land around Cîteaux was not suitable for wines but, 10 miles to the west, they discovered ideal conditions where generous benefactors allowed them to acquire land, plant vines and, in 1116, construct buildings for vinification and cellaring. That land was Clos de Vougeot, now one of Burgundy’s most famous and greatest vineyards.

  The centuries passed and the monks of Cîteaux continued to make both cheese and wine until the French revolution when, on 13th February 1790, both the abbey and Clos de Vougeot were declared state property and the monks were forced to leave their beloved Cîteaux. They returned to their abbey after more than 100 years and cheesemaking resumed in 1907, but Clos de Vougeot had been sold and was never returned to the monks.

  Frère Placide has known the cheese for over 30 years and says that it was being made twice a day in the 1930’s enabling the milk to be used fresh from the cow. With modern refrigeration the brothers can store the milk and now make cheese twice a week, on Mondays and Thursdays. As far as I know, they are the only abbey where all the milk for cheesemaking still comes from their own cows. Frère Jean-Claude explained to me that they look after 150 Montbéliard cows, of which 70 or so are in milk at any one time, producing 500,000 litres of milk each year; enough to make 2,000 cheeses each week. He says that in the 1920’s the cheese was hard, a little like Gruyère but that the brothers then decided to change to a recipe similar to the one used at L’Abbaye de Notre Dame de Port du Salut. It was a wise decision because the present cheese is superb.

  Three of the brothers make the cheese, which takes three hours from start to finish. They raise the temperature of the milk to 33˚c, add rennet and the curd forms in half to three quarters of an hour. It is then cut and stirred for a further half hour and then drained. It is then moulded and lightly pressed overnight. The following morning the brothers immerse the cheeses in brine for 4 to 5 hours. Affinage, during which the cheeses are washed in brine and turned daily, takes about 3 weeks at 12˚c before it is ready to eat.

  At first appearance Cîteaux resembles a cross between Reblochon and Port Salut but it is, in reality, a unique cheese in its own right. They are discs of about 17 cm diameter and 4 cm high, weighing approx 750g. Initially the aroma is pungent in the extreme. You may wonder what you have bought. But, unwrapped for a little while, the aroma disperses. Unlike some cheese aficionados who like the crust of the cheese, I would recommend that you cut off the rind of Cîteaux because I find it detracts from the sublime pleasure of the paste. To me the rind is too crunchy and too intense in flavour. The texture of the paste is a delight; soft, supple and yielding, slightly firmer than melting chocolate; but it is the flavour, which is its stunning feature. There is just so much of it: herby, spicy, fruity with hints of hazelnuts and hay and a pronounced tang. It may be milder than other washed-rind cheeses, such as Epoisses, but the fact that the flavours are mild does not stop there being lots of them. It is a cheese of nuances not a blockbuster; it deserves to be savoured slowly to fully appreciate its character and complexity.

  The production of 2,000 cheeses a week is clearly surplus to the needs of the 35 brothers at the abbey but is not nearly sufficient to meet public demand. All the cheese is sold locally and buyers are obliged to collect from the abbey. The result is that nearly all the cheese is consumed locally, although a little makes its way to top Parisian restaurants, and it is extremely difficult to find. Even at the abbey, the brothers often have no cheese for sale.

  Other monastery-style cheeses

  Cîteaux may be one of the few abbeys still to produce cheese entirely from the milk of their own cows but there are plenty of other religious communities who produce cheese and plenty of individuals and companies who produce cheeses of a similar style. This is hardly surprising as monasteries historically were often the centres of expertise in all sorts of matters, not least agricultural and epicurean. They generally enjoyed a high standard of living and entertained visitors to whom they would wish to serve meals of a high quality; so it is natural that they should be the source of many of our present day cheeses.

  Monastery cheeses tend to be soft cheeses with a pliable, satiny smooth texture and a washed rind, and are similar to cheeses such as Epoisses. I have referred to most of my favourites in the chapter, ‘A Stinker from Dijon’. I draw a distinction between soft cheeses like Brie and smooth cheeses like Cîteaux, although I admit the distinction is subjective and sometimes very hard to put into words. I think what I am trying to say is that the smooth ones are firmer in texture and definitely hold their own shape whereas the soft ones can run once ripe. The smooth ones tend to be lightly pressed, whereas the soft ones are not pressed. As always it is fiendishly difficult to categorise cheeses.

  A word about additives

  There is a noble tradition of adding ingredients to cheese: cumin to Gouda reminding us of the Dutch trading links with the far east, medicinal herbs added by monks to their cheeses, carrot juice to give a richer colour, extra cream to make a particularly succulent cheese. And, of course, some ingredients are essential to cheesemaking; Salt (added to curd for Cheddar, rubbed into the rind for Parmigiano Reggiano) acts as a preservative slowing bacteria growth, dehydrating and enhancing the flavour.

  But this tradition has been hijacked by modern marketing methods and some of the additions nowadays are quite horrendous; whoever thought of adding chocolate or Christmas Pudding?

  Traditionally ingredients would have been added as part of the cheesemaking process but, all too often these days, plain cheese of poor quality, or with some defect, is minced and then reconstituted with the ingredients added. The result is a pappy texture and a flavour, which does no favours to either the original cheese or the ingredients. My advice: stay clear of cheeses with additives.

  Burgundy

  During my vineyard work experience, my digs in Burgundy were even more basic than in Champagne, but perhaps more charming. I was in a sort of loft above a store in the small village of Ladoix-Serrigny, just north of Beaune. I worked in the vineyards, pruning, and in the cellars, racking wine from one barrel to another or bottling. The people at La Reine Pedauque were charming and my French improved slowly, so that we could communicate pretty well.

  After a spell in the Loire and Provence and a quick visit to England, I returned with Rachel to Burgundy for the 1975 harvest. We arrived at La Reine Pedauque and were met with astonishment by Denis Santiard. “Your friend is a girl! You told us only a friend and we had thought you meant a man. We had planned your accommodation the same as before but this time with your friend and a Belgian curé who is also here for the vendange. Clearly that will not be possible.” Heads were put together and a splendid solution arrived at. The vicar would stay in my old loft and Rachel and I would be welcome to use a huge but unfurnished and somewhat dilapidated apartment above their exhibition cellars in Beaune. Rachel set to and soon had it very homely. We picked grapes all day, which was fun but tiring, especially as the weather was foul – rain most days. Not good for the grapes, and everyone was fearful of a very poor harvest, which indeed it was.

  I came to love Burgundy and find it perhaps the most charming vineyard area in France. It is real country, as English people understand it, except that the crops are grapes. Although the vines stretch almost as far as the eye can see, each vineyard is surprisingly small. Before the French Revolution the church owned particularly extensive vineyards i
n Burgundy and these were seized by the state and sold off to many individuals. By contrast, in Bordeaux, vineyards were often owned by merchants and their lands were not usually forfeited, unless the owners were of the aristocracy or foreign. Add to this seizure of lands the French inheritance laws, which divide land equally between all children, and the result is the multiplicity of ownership now in place. There are some 30,000 growers and over 100 different appellations contrôlées in Burgundy. Some ‘vineyards’ may be just one or two rows of vines – not that this is apparent to the casual observer; there are few fences or walls to indicate a change of owner.

  In Champagne the blender is everything. In Bordeaux the vineyard or Château is everything. Burgundy is a curious mix of the two. Because of the predominantly small size of each vineyard, merchants, or négociants, became established in much the same way as the blenders in Champagne. But whereas in Champagne this was necessary to improve the quality of the wines, in Burgundy it was brought about for commercial reasons (making up marketable quantities) rather than for reasons of quality. Nowadays most merchants produce good wines (it was not always so) but, alongside the merchants are the real stars; the individual growers who sell their excellent wines (with plenty of nuances of flavour between and even within the different appellations) in small quantities at high prices.

  One can pay a lot of money for a Burgundy, but the good ones are incomparable; the trick is to find the good ones. They are rare and, of all regions, a little local knowledge is almost essential. After many years I am still scratching the surface. Of course, the great domaines are nearly always superb. Comtes Lafon, De Vogue, Coche Dury and others. But the prices are astronomic. Searching out the less well-known producers who still make excellent wines can be a frustrating experience. Burgundy is a good friend but a fickle one. Sometimes she will amaze you with an overwhelming display of her virtues. At another one can scarcely see why one ever liked her at all. But, when it comes to cheese, her red wines, made from Pinot Noir grapes, are a constant companion.