IPAs can be notoriously difficult to pair with cheese- they can absolutely destroy your palate with bitter-y goodness, making the nuances of more delicate cheeses (or, sometimes, anything else) difficult to discover. Heartier, bolder, roughneck cheese is what we’re gonna have to find here. Or is it? Let’s hop to it…

hop…to it? har har…

While not my most favored style of beer, for you, my sweet audience (yes all six of you), I drank copious amounts of IPA in the last two (four?) weeks.  And you know what? I’m totally OK with that. Think I’ll make it a springtime tradition.  Seriously, about 20 different IPAs have come through my door recently, not to mention the dusty taps I’ve sampled throughout NYC in that time. Narrowing down all the notes I took, I’m presenting here three that give us a sample of the IPA diaspora available out there for all you thursty turkeys.  But first, history! Or what I believe to be history…

One night while out imbibing, I met an elderly English cat who told me the story of IPA, which goes something like this: the British were in India during the 19^th century and they wanted ales from the motherland.  The travel by boat would end up compromising the flavor of those pale ales, so they began adding hops to each barrel of beer to preserve its flavor for when it finally landed on the sub-continent. These beers would take on a particularly bitter character by the time it got to the Brits (ever read the Flashman books? I always of him when I drink IPAs), thus was born the India Pale Ale. Bless the English and their imperialist ways.  So they would have a more bitter beer, but they always had a more mellow brewing style than we know today, with hops that held a lighter alpha acid content, like Kent Golding or Fuggle.  So what do we do here in the ol’ USofA? MORE MALT MORE HOPS MORE ALPHA ACID!!!!! IPA has become a chance for American craft brewing to blow your taste buds right outta the top of your skulls.  No more is this evidenced than on the west coast, where some of the biggest and gnarliest IPAs reside.  So in between downloading the 1980s Motley Crüe catalog and checking out baseball scores, I found some time to think and drink.  IPA folks! Let’s get bitter, and not in a holiday family function kind of way.

We’ll ease into this with Simcoe Single Hop from Mikkeller- they’re based in Denmark but this one was brewed at De Proef Brewery in Belgium. Mikkeller is a ghost brewer, meaning they move from instillation to instillation for brewing, using their connections throughout the world of beer to create innovative brews, sometimes in collaboration with the brewery they’re working at. It’s really a cool story- check ‘em out.  This bottle is part of their single hop series, meaning they chose one hop for aroma and bittering- so we’re about to get real intimate with this bud. The Simcoe Hop originates in the fertile Northwest state of Washington; in this bottle it presents a floral aroma with notes of pine, lemon zest, and weed on the palate. It’s got a bright, balanced, and crisp bitterness that doesn’t linger.  I had this beer with some pickled herring and nice little young French crottin, and friends, let me tell you: the combo was D-Y-N-O-M-I-T-E. Bitter citrus, butterfat, vinegar soaked fish- my holy trinity.

eat more cured fish!

 Up next: Harpoon Brewery’s Leviathan Series Imperial IPA from Massachusetts.  This is exactly what I love about east coast IPAs.  It’s a beautiful amber color with a more mild nose than one would expect from an Imperial IPA with a 10% ABV- more of a subtle grain aroma than one filled with the expected floral/citrus bomb.   Full flavors of caramel malt and yeast are on the palate along with butterscotch.  Really a nice balance between malt and hop with a full, yet fine body.  This is an IPA that’s amenable to cheese pairings- I drank it with a piece of Andeer Granit- a raw cow’s milk cheese from the heavenly Swiss Alps, where a husband and wife team take the cows up to highland pasture in the spring and let them graze for months on fresh grass and sleep in the open fields under the stars. An exemplary cheese in all aspects, Granit’s nutty sweetness and grassiness play well with this IPA.

Finally, my pedestal brewery. My muse. My dream girl.  My brewery version of Will Clark. My Alesmith.  Ok, ok…our Alesmith. Of all their beers to review, I’d have never thought I’d end up dancing with their IPA, but luck happened to be on my side one afternoon while I was slithering the beer markets looking for IPAs.  A 22oz bottle was just sitting there, looking at me like a wall-eyed runt Boston Terrier on adoption day, whimpering for me to take it into my home, to over-look it’s more attractive cousin Speedway Stout, and love it for everything its bitter, citrus filled, thick, San Diego IPA goodness would provide.  This is a West Coast IPA that delivers-  a beautiful full body, sharp acidity that disappears wonderfully, and decent ABV that that gives you a warm smile and makes everything just A-OK.   This is the big boy of the group and el capitán needs the beefy, dirty, yeasty, slightly gooey body of Twig Farm’s Butterwick Big to really make this relationship work.  A rare cow’s milk treat from these guys, I’ve absolutely fallen in love with this cheese.

What, beer and cheese ain’t good enough for ya?  Well I’ve been in a fishy mood, so how about you round it out with some tantalizing fish stuffs from the ol’ Bedford Cheese Shop?  Enjoy a nice jar of pickled herring, maybe some smoked Alaskan Black Cod, or some hearty sardines on your plate.  Cured fish has the flavors and textures to compliment the bitterness of the beer and the qualities of the cheeses I was just yammering about.

SO, GO! Enjoy the fleeting spring,; drink and eat, and buy me a beer if you ever see me out. Just not an IPA.

Out of nowhere I suddenly know every word to "Kiss On My List," and then I wake up gasping for air...

Needless to say.  I’ve been very busy.  And yes, we are in the process of opening up a second location.  And yes, it will sell cheese.  And no, I don’t want to talk about it, because my hair might just all fall out at once in an anxious fit.  Let’s save that exciting news for some other, less crazy time.  But, because of this, I have been seriously neglecting my one pride and joy: the BCS blog.  So.  Let’s hop back on board, get to sailing the internet seas, and just…relax together. (HAHAHAHA.  I haven’t done that in about 2 and a half years. But nice try…)

Regardless, all of this has led me to attempt to try and simplify.  Easy-peasy-finger-sandwiches-by-the-pool-see-you-at-brunch-let’s-take-a-nap livin’.  I’ve put aside my usual Big Gulp of Piña Colada, and decided to look into comfort food.  What would workers from time of yore do in my current work situation? Those who had no time to stop what they were doing and watch the entire Beyoncé music video oeuvre? Those who had to work while they ate, lest their shillings be thrown to the pelicans and dogs?  (That last one is a historical fact.  That actually happened.)

Gulp! There goes your salary! Which is a cat. Olde tymey workers did get paid in cats.

So clearly, this mysterious road led me to the only place I could go: the world of Pimento cheese.  Duhhhhh obviously.

I never grew up with pimento cheese.  In fact, I don’t think I had pimento cheese until last fall when my mom presented me with a platter of hors d’oeuvres that she forgot to put out for her book club.  After promptly scoffing, rolling my eyes, doing a quick “I win” lap around the kitchen, I ended up back at the plate, shoving as many little toothpick bite-sized mouthfulls as I could.  Dates filled with pimento and then wrapped in prosciutto.  Sure!  Why not!  I’ll gladly eat…oh…75 or 90 of those?

So what’s the deal?  What is pimento cheese?

You should be drooling.

Apparently, it’s a big f-ing deal.  Who knew.  So, for all those people who have been reading my ramble and politely nodding, here you go.  Pimento cheese: a spread made from shredded cheese, mayo, pimentos, salt, and pepper.  Mixed together.  It can be either smooth.  Or chunky.  Supposedly every MeMaw in the South has her own special recipe with mystical ingredients that can only be found in the deepest swamps.  Some people put cream cheese in it.  Jalapeños.  Worcestshire sauce.  Relish.  Paprika.  Onions.  Garlic.  The list goes on.  Basically.  It’s real good, and you spread it on things.

Robert F. Moss, a food writer and historian from Charleston, South Carolina, seems to be the only person who has publicly recorded the origins of this food product.  Props to you Robby Moss.  It’s a long story (see here if you want to read the whole thing) but I shall try to do justice and paraphrase.  Ok.  It’s  the end of the 19th century.  Dude farmers in New York state have just invented cream cheese.  Other dude bros are starting to import sweet, red peppers from Spain, which were known as “pimientos.”  Bitches went crazy and mixed these two trendy food items together, made them into a brick, wrapped it up in silver foil, and BANG-O.  Pimento cheese.  Because the junk didn’t last long in foil, peeps started putting it in jars so that it could live on your shelf, unrefrigerated, for most of eternity.  Excellent.

Why am I wasting my time on anything else?!?!?!?!??!

So enter stage right the noble South.  They took one look at this packaged cheese spread and guffawed and decided that they would just make it themselves.  And do it better.  And eat it all the time.  And make it their own thing.  So they started adding shredded cheese and sparkles and white glove bits and whatever else they wanted.  They brought it to baseball games, church socials, G.D. Future Women of American Gardens meetings.  EVERYWHERE.  It became really popular with farmers and day laborers, who would make pimento cheese sandwiches to eat on the go.  Every Gangy and Poppop had a jar of their own creation in the frigidaire and it become a part of a collective regional food culture!  (See what I did with that?!?!  Proof: I went to college and learned more than how to take a midterm after eating a plate of pot brownines…)  And then it kind of died out.  And then.  In the 1980′s, when everyone was all “Hey look!  Cocaine!  Hey!  I have an idea!  What did they eat in the 1920′s?” all these big Southern cooks decided to start including the comfort foods of their youthz.  Ta-da.  Pimento cheese: back and bigger than all y’all.

It has become  a definite nostalgia food item.  People almost like the idea of eating it more than the actual product.  But.  All in all.  Pimento cheese is rather mind-numbingly delicious.  So.  Because I have to go and debate tote bag design and colate e-mail listservs, here is my favorite lady…PAULA DEEN…teaching y’all how to make pimento cheese.  Because if anyone knows how, Paula definitely knows how to make some mayo cheese spread.  So enjoy.  I promise you will get more exciting posts soon.  Once my brain stops running 10,000 miles a minute.  Love y’all!

Beer is completely engrained in the social and gastronomic culture of Belgium, so it’s no wonder that they are best know for their beers and possess breweries that continually rank as the world’s finest. From Lambic to Farmhouse Saisons to Trappist Ales, the Belgians have the craft and science of brewing down.  We’re going to take a variety from their spectrum and do a little old world/new world pairing exercise to keep your palate excited and your belly happy.

We’ll start off with a little background on a bright, wild style called Lambic. Now, Lambic is a beer that is produced by spontaneous fermentation through the exposure of grain to wild bacteria and yeasts, creating a wonderfully sour and complex beverage.  But wait…there’s more! Lambic is the base for a few different beers, and right about now we’re gonna pop open one of its offspring- Geuze. Say it with me- geeeew-zah. Fun, right?  Geuze is a blend of young and old Lambic, which is then aged for a period of time chosen by the blender to produce a bigger, spicier, and bolder beer.  Sometimes it’s dryer, sometimes it’s more bitter. The beauty of Geuze comes with the blending and maturation of the fluid by the brewer. Today’s sample comes to us from Tilquin.  Let’s see what’s behind door number 1:

This Gueze pours frothy but not overly so.  Yeast is all over the nose and the flavor is quite round, sour without being too sour with hints of apricot. This bottle is on the younger side- not a lot of residual sediment in the container and a really soft feel on the pallet.  Sometimes I want a Geuze that will strip the paint off the hood of your car, but this one? Refresca! With this Geuze, something slightly tart with mellow acidity is in order.  The St. Maure we get from our friends at Gros Chene in Belgium are just this when they first come in.  The soft, creamy texture will sit on your tongue and mingle with the sourness from the Geuze wonderfully.

Yep, that’s dinner. Medic!

Side note: I hope you enjoyed the lack of English on those first two links as much as I did.

Next, let’s look down the street from the cheese shop to our pals at Brooklyn Brewery and their Saison style Sorachi Ace. If there was ever a beer made for balls hot New York summer other than cheap canned brews (what? everything has a time and place, especially a 12 pack of Rolling Rock) it’s Saison.  Bright, yeasty, crisp, and refreshing, Saisons are, simply, the shit, and the Sorachi Ace is one of the best examples of American Craft brewing’s take on a traditional style.  Enough jibber-jabber, just pour the damn beer!

Yes! Yes! A frothy egg white head gives off dusty yeast and grass notes as the foam settles. Peach pits, lemon peel, and hay are having a party and they want to be inside you. The Japanese Sorachi Ace Hop is all over this beer. I mean, it’s called Sorachi Ace fer cryin’ out loud. It makes me want to roam the hillsides of Japan and eat hops, maybe find some of those cute little bathing monkeys to share a beer or four with. A guy can dream, can’t he?

They, too, know the power of Sorachi Ace.

Another goat is in order for this one.  I like Sofia from Capriole Farm.  The tartness, texture, and tinge of soapiness bring a perfect lightness to the table with this brew.

Two down. How many ya got in ya? Strap in folks. Up next is a beautiful little beer I like to call Rodenbach Grand Cru. Mostly because it’s called Rodenbach Grand Cru. If you ever get a chance to visit Belgium, you have to go to the seaside, get a heaping pile of shrimp croquettes and a big glass of Rodenbach. I don’t ask much of you babies, so please, just do me this one favor.  You’ll thank me for it.  Rodenbach is a Flemmish Red Ale, aged on wood to create a round sourness that immediately takes your mind to balsamic vinegar. Sweet, sour, and full, it’s a classic in the world of beer.  Rodenbach is a nice match with Abbaye de Tamie, a raw cow’s cheese produced by the monks of Tamie Abbey in the French Alps. Its creamy, woodsy, and slightly bitter character rounds out the sweetness of our good friend Rodenbach. Booya!

Maybe I shaved with this knife afterwards…maybe….

Ok, ok…we’re all feeling pretty good now, so let’s finish it off with a bang. A Quadruppel bang! St. Bernardus Abt 12 is an Abbey style beer, meaning it isn’t brewed by monks at an abbey, but is inspired by them. In fact, this beer is believed (read: is) the same recipe as the coveted Westvleteren 12- the lone Trappist brewer that does not export to the US. Anywhoo, St. Bernie Abt 12 is large, malt heavy beer, with aromas of bready grain, a molasses sweetness and a boozy, brown sugary, Madeira sucker punch on the ol’ tongue.  A round, slightly bittersweet finish is all you can ask for.  All that’s needed to round out the friar’s table is a buttery cheese with bright bitterness, like Achelse Blue, sometimes known as Grevenbroecker. A masterpiece in cheese making, this raw cow’s milk marbled blue hailing from the remote areas of Belgium near the Dutch border absolutely sings with this beer…sings, I tells ya!

And then we prayed the rosary… jk.

And on this day, I give thee pairings. Now go forth, make some waffles, some mussels and frites, trap a gnome, and sing the praises of the beautiful, friendly people of Belgium with every sip and every bite.  Until next time friends, don’t forget about your good friend beer.

Well Happy St. Patrick’s Day to all of you little internet leprechauns out there!  It’s your international day of Irish pride – celebrating that fateful day in history where all the snakes of Ireland got together, started playing pipes, and rode a Skittle rainbow into a green pot of gold and sailed down a Guinness river and straight into our hearts.  That’s right.  You’ve got Irish snakes in your heart….

I should probably preface this blog post by saying that there is absolutely not one drop of Irish heritage in my system.  Grandmama never sat around kneading soda bread talking of the “old country,” listening to U2 makes me nauseous, and I don’t really care for potatoes in any other form apart from French.  (Although once, I did once make a milkshake using Bailey’s Irish Cream, and after I pooped my pants, I realized I was actually in fact having a pretty great time…)  I don’t really know anything about Ireland.  Something about emeralds.  That one actor dude.  Gangs of New York?  So, I apologize in advance if I say anything ridiculous and outlandish and insult someone on the internet.  Because I’m sure this post will definitely be the first time that I do anything like that (see here, here, and probably a little bit here).  BUT, what I DO know a lot about is cheese.  And at the Bedford Cheese Shop we definitely carry some excellent cheeses that come directly from the majestic fjords and succulent forests of Ireland.  No?  I have no idea where Ireland is…

SO GET READY!  Buckle your shamrock seatbelts and prepare to be taken on a journey through the hills, dells, and dairies of Ireland, as I tell you about some of the delicious Irish cheeses we provide – and SURPRISE – it’s enough to make a rich and hearty cheese board!  Pair it with a pint of green Corona and a Shamrock Shake, and we can call it a day.

Alright lads and lassies.  First up on our magical mystery cheese tour of Ireland is a behemoth of a cheese.  The one, the only, the waxed, COOLEA.  It comes from the remote area of Macroom in Country Cork – a land full of Irish mystery.  Made by Dickie Willems + his Dutch Family (which sounds like a 70′s Soul Train band…) using an old world recipe, this is essentially an Irish Gouda.  Only about a year old, Coolea is on the younger side of “gouda,” and is smooth and mellow.  Flavors of caramel, cream, salt, and (maybe it’s psychosomatic) hints of earth and potato.  Less creamy in texture than other younger goudas, this cheese is delicious.  In fact, I hear it’s Liam Neeson’s favorite!

BFF 4EVA!

The farm also has a delightfully late 90′s website, which I hope they never change because it brings on the mega-LOLZ as well as nostalgic sighs for Thundercats and slap bracelets…

Next up on the hot air balloon cheese tour of Ireland is the famous ARDRAHAN.  Here is a special video I found about Ardrahan…

Have I mentioned recently that I love Mary Burns?  A creamy, washed rind stinker, this cow’s milk cheese tastes like an old man’s smoking jacket.  Buttery, creamy, tobacco-y, leather-y, fruity, and full of stank, this is an amazingly consistent and delicious cheese.  The damp Irish climate lends itself perfectly to making washed rind, stinky cheeses, and the rich milk of their Fresian dairy herd makes this cheese SO GOOD ALL THE TIME.  While strong, it’s definitely approachable and a crowd pleaser.  And, like the video says, this cheese is great with Irish whisky, as well as beer and wine.  It lurves boozin.  So. Much.  And it loves to get all over your cheesemongers hands and leave a “I Just Spent 20 Minutes Playing With a Dirty Dog” smell on your skin!  So fun, y’all!  So, we’ve got Coolea + Ardrahan.  What’s next on this Irish tour, eh?

Hey, you there.  Have you ever heard of a delicious Irish cheese called Gubbeen?  Well, guess what.  Now you have. Moving on.

Look at that majestic wheat.

Just kidding.  Gubbeen is another example of a delicious washed rind Irish cheese – a land perfect for stinkers.  I mean, have you ever seen Colin Farrell?  Created all the way back in 1979, this cheese comes from a mixed herd of Fresians, Simmenthal, Shorthorns, Jersey, and Ireland’s very own breed: Kerry Cows!  This blend of milks creates a delightful balance of creaminess, butterfat, and protein.  Named after an anglisation of the Irish word “Gobin,” or “mouthful,” this cheese is mushroomy, buttery, earthy, and not as stinky as it looks!  And there is an awesome boar on the label, so you know this cheese is Liza Minelli style cray-zay.  Try this with a light Scotch to bring out the peaty notes and put it on a dark, crusty loaf full of CRAISINS.  Or just dump it in your bowl of Lucky Charms.  I don’t care.  I bet those little marshmallows will go reallllll good with all that cheese.

Alright.  So, we are winding up our tour of Irish cheeses.  Almost done here.  But, before we get there….let’s take a little IRISH VIDEO BREAK!  Time to get up, stretch it out, and enjoy some high quality entertainment….Irish style…

WHAT IS THIS. I know this is Riverdance, Lord of the Dance, whatever. But LOOK AT THIS. A.) Michael Flatley…the “LORD OF THE DAHHHHHNTTTHE.” His outfit. It’s like he is wearing rejects from Whitney Houston’s wardrobe from “The Bodyguard.” WHAT IS THAT LITTLE BLAZER! It’s so sparkly! And those leather pants! I die! And the closeups on his face. I mean, if you are going to do drag makeup, go for it. This is like so half-assed and lazy. And did he lose his shirt backstage? I die. B.) What. Is. He. Doing. He is literally just running back and forth, doing “White Guy at a wedding” dances and then grinding up on his fiddle players. And then commanding his gay clone army of tap dancers who are going to take over the world and use their rhythmic feet and immobile arms to stomp all over your face. C.) The lighting. I’ve seen Pride Parade Floats that are more demure. D.) THE CROWD! Michael Flatley is clearly a necromancer or witch or something because these people are going BANANAS! Like. Losing their shit. Pulling out their hair, screaming, crying, clawing at their skin…out of JOY! I mean, has that crowd been photoshopped in or something? E.) Are they just playing Turkey in The Straw over and over again? Because literally…that’s what it sounds like. Actually, if you close your eyes, you can hear the screams of the souls being tortured in this special corner of hell. F.) All the female dancers look like Nomi Malone. G.) THAT FIDDLER IS WEARING A ZENTAI SUIT. I’m pretty sure that is bondage wear. And then Michael Flatley rubs his sweaty, leather-clad groin on her lower back like he is at the Middle School Spring Formal. I could literally go on about this forever. Apparently there is a plot? I really don’t understand this. It’s actually….I can’t think about it any more. I feel like I’m going to have terrible tip-tapping dreams all night long to the music from Zelda. Oh god….my poor brain from watching this video about 9 times in a row….

Let’s get back to the cheese. Anything to distract from THAT.

So the last people you have to pay attention to are a husband and wife team all the way over in County Tipperary.  You know the one.  Having a long family history of farming in County Tipperary, Jane and Louis Grubb are rulers of a mini cheese kingdom that includes both Cashel and Crozier Blue.  Both mild and creamy, Cashel is made from the milk of a herd of Fresian cows, and Crozier is made from sheep’s milk – something unusual in Irish cheese production.  Coming in a gold cylindrical drum, Cashel is named after the Rock of Cashel – a medieval castle that was once the seat of the Kings of Munster (I SMELL ANOTHER HISTORICAL BLOG POST!) and is supposedly the hot spot where St. Patrick started the pog craze of the mid 90′s or something.

Dope Slammer, brah! Just as dope as your hemp necklace!

No, but for reals.  He started the Irish conversion to Christianity using a shamrock.  THAT’S ALL.  So this cheese is named after that castle.  Pretty kewl!  It’s creamy, meaty, minerally, tangy, and lactic.   It’s great for snacking and cooking, and super easy to get all year round.  Their second blue, Crozier, is a little tricker to get.  Made from the sheep’s milk of a neighboring farm owned by Jane & Louis cousin, this cheese comes in a smaller silver cylinder.  Slightly more crumbly than Cashel blue, this cheese isn’t as approachable because of the complexity of both the sheep’s milk and the blue molds.  It’s roquefort-esque, but fattier and more austere.  Not all French-in-your-face…. Sheepy, slightly wooly and fruity, tangy, lactic, bright, and with hints of hazelnuts, this is one of my most favorite cheeses at the Bedford Cheese Shop.  A must try for anyone who likes to eat cheese and drink SWEET DESSERT WINES!!!!!!!! Yeah gurrrrrrrl.

So there you have it!  A grand tour around Bedford Cheese Shop’s version of Ireland!  Hey nonny nonny!  So come on down, try them out, then go home and drink a lot of whiskey and Guiness.  Just.  Don’t do it in reverse.  I don’t want you puking up anything green on my wood floor…

And…the moment you’ve all been waiting for!  The namesake for this blog….Ireland’s very own bald ruby in the rough….MISS SINEAD O’CONNOR!

 

 

Oh God. It kills me every time. I LOVE YOU IRELAND! You and your serpents and shamrocks and Sineads. Keep doin’ you. And don’t you ever change. No. Seriously. Don’t. Until next time, love bugs! XOXO

I’ve been hearing that it’s unseasonably warm outside, but I honestly wouldn’t know. The Cheese Shop remains a climate-controlled icebox (all for the good of the cheese) year-round, and I’ve been spending most of my days off re-watching Twin Peaks and eating obscene amounts of potato chips. I’m in a winter slump, and it ain’t pretty. On the one day I managed to motivate myself onto a bicycle and off to the farmer’s market, I found it full of a meager selection of cold-storage apples and some not-quite-exciting-anymore braising greens. There were, however, lots and lots of funghi. They called to me, ‘Cover us in butter! Smother us in cheese! We want to be devoured!” And I just couldn’t resist. A pound of mushrooms and a quart of Ronnybrook chocolate milk (don’t judge) later, I pedaled back home and got to chopping.

During these bleak wintry times, there are plenty of foods we can eat to help us stay energized and healthy. Citrus, kale, beets; bright, colorful produce that keeps one’s spirits high. But, there is also a little guy called fat that does just as great of a job at curing winter blues, and there is lots and lots of good fat available at Bedford Cheese Shop. For instance, BACON. Yup, bacon. It’s good for you, right? Ok, so maybe it’s not. Buuuut it is delicious. And delicious things make you feel good. Plus, if you use bacon in moderation, and pair it with a bunch of other healthy stuff, it all evens out.

We have lots of options when it comes sweet, salty cured pork and for this dish, I chose some pancetta from one of my favorite producers, La Quercia. The fine folks at La Quercia have been curing pork in Iowa since 2005. They source heritage breed, vegetarian-fed, antibiotic-free pigs from within 200 miles of the curing facilities, use only organic spices and domestic sea salt, and take the greatest of care to ensure that their products are always in tip-top shape when they arrive at our door. They produce a huge variety of piggy products, and I have yet to try one that isn’t totally, insanely delicious.

Next up in my mission to smother some ‘shrooms, CHEESE. Did you know that we have over 600 cheeses in our master inventory list? Seriously. Six. Hund. Dred. And counting. How are you supposed to wander in on a casual Saturday afternoon and just PICK ONE?! Well, lemme let you in on a little trade secret: if you’re going to be cooking with your queso, let your monger know right off the bat. They’ll be less likely to steer you towards something that costs $72/lb and more likely to find you a cheese that has good melting capabilities, or salad crumbly capabilities, or blue cheese dressing capabilities, or whatever it is you want to whip up. For this dish, I wanted a simple goat cheese that would melt into a bechamel sauce, something with enough bucky bite to stand up against all that butter and milk, but still on the cheap side since I’d need to get a lot of it. Enter Westfield Farm. These folks have been cranking out goaty goodness in Hubbardson, Massachusetts since 1971. Their Capri fresh Chevre is lemony, astringent, creamy, and way cheap. Mmm… goat crumbles, how I love thee.

Finally on shopping list is something to stuff all this junk into. Rusticichella d’Abruzzo makes really tasty pasta, sauces, oils, and other  goodies and is super fun to say in an exaggerated Italian accent. They have a whole section on their website titled ‘secrets’. Very Italian. These guys know what they’re doing. Extra glutinous local wheat, mountain spring water, up to fifty hours of drying time, this stuff is legit. I’ve made a lot of pasta in my day, and Rustichella’s products are without a doubt my favorite. They also have this really nifty process of molding their shapes in bronze that gives each noodle a little extra texture so that it absorbs more sauce. Science, y’all.

With all our ingredients in place, it’s time to get cooking. You can’t go wrong with all these awesome parts, unless you’re as spastic as I am and forget to check the size of your pan before filling it with noodles and then you have this weird little triangular area of noodle-free-ness. Whatever. It was still delicious. And as for those winter blues of mine? Well, as they say in Italy, “Mangia che ti passa.” “Eat and it will be better.”

Mushroom and Pancetta-stuffed Cannelloni with Goat Cheese Bechamel

For bechamel:
¼ cup unsalted butter (plus more for greasing)
¼ cup all-purpose flour
2 cups whole milk, heated
100 g Westfield Bulk Chevre, crumbled
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
½ teaspoon ground white pepper
1 teaspoon salt

For Cannelloni Filling:
200 g La Quercia Pancetta, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
300 g button mushrooms, diced
1 teaspoon fresh thyme, minced
100 g Westfield Bulk Chevre
Salt

1/2 cup Parmigiano Reggiano, grated

1 box Rustichella d’Abruzzo Cannelloni noodles (you won’t use the whole box)

Pre-heat your oven to 300º. Prepare a shallow, rectangular baking dish by greasing it with butter. To prepare the bechamel, melt the butter in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add flour and stir until mixture thickens and starts to bubble. Add in warm milk and bring to a slow boil. Remove from heat and stir in Chevre, nutmeg, pepper, and salt. Set aside. To make cannelloni filling, cook pancetta in a skillet on medium-high heat until browned. Remove with a slotted spoon and place on a plate lined with a paper towel to drain. Add the garlic to the reserved fat and cook until fragrant. Add the mushrooms and cook, stirring often, until they have lost, and then regain their moisture. Add thyme to skillet and cook a few minutes more until fragrant. Remove from heat and combine mushrooms with pancetta, Chevre, and salt to taste. Using a teaspoon, fill cannelloni shells with mushroom mixture. Add 1/2 cup of Bechamel to prepared baking dish. Add filled shells to dish in a single layer. Cover shells with remaining bechamel. Sprinkle Parmigiano Reggiano over dish and cover with foil. Bake, covered for 40 minutes. Uncover and continue baking for an extra 15 minutes, or until top of dish is browned. Let cool slightly before serving.

Hey bitches.

For some reason I have not been able to escape the alluring image of a much covered buffalo out of my brain.  Perhaps it’s the warming weather.  Perhaps it’s the exotic aromas that emerge from the Popeyes/Dunkin Donuts mega-store I pass every morning to get to the J train (I’m not quite sure what exactly comes in the Popeye’s Tackle Box, but it looks exactly like a box of golden.  And I REALLY want it.  I mean, I could get a Green Shamrock Donut at the same time. I don’t know how I’ve held out for this long, actually…).  Perhaps it was Nick Nolte at the Oscars.

Definite a little water buffalo in there...

All I know, is that I want everything water buffalo.  Which began an epic journey into the depths of a special land in the internet known as “Broken English…”  But guess what, y’all?  The water buffalo is pretty damn dope. Although not as dope as Dunkin Donuts donettes.  Damn my morning commute…

So, FIRST thing, I have never thought about how ancient the water buffalo is.  It’s like……Land Before Time, Bill and Ted Gotta Save The Babes, pagan Eastern goddess demanding a young virgin on an altar old.  They were made into mummies.  They were made into statues.  They were carved onto shards of old pots.  Hella old dudes.  As a result, there are a bunch of different kinds of water buffalo – the kind with long horns, the kind with short horns, the kind that are white, the kind that enjoy experimental jazz – the list goes on.  But, they all fall under the species, Bubalus bubalis, which is the Latin term for the three major types: river buffalo, swamp buffalo, and wild buffalo.  Originating in China and Southeast Asia, these buffalo slowly traveled down the Silk Road, along with luxurious silks, tasty spices, and prickly STD’s.  They are hearty animals – sturdy, able to walk far, and don’t eat a whole lot of hay and grain.  They can pull great weights and are pretty affable animals, and their little paws are spread in such a way that their heavy bodies don’t sink into the squishy bottoms of swamps and marshes, meaning that they are spectacular for all kinds of agricultural endeavors.  People have been using the ding dang things since 2500 BC.  So eventually they made it to Europe.  A little late, but they got there none the less.  According to forced animal migration legend (it’s totally a thing.  I’m pretty sure there’s a listserv or something) Crusaders returning from the Middle East were the first to bring  water buffalo to Italy.  Others say the Gauls.  Whoever did it, it was forever ago, and IIIIIIIIIIII LOVE’EM!

I was trying to do one of two things here. Either, find a super cute picture of a baby water buffalo. You know. To show how much I love them. Or, I was trying to find a photo of a "sexy" crusader or some sort of adult feature that is Crusader themed. But guess, what! A.) There is a serious lack of cute water buffalo baby photos. And B.) Apparently no one thought the crusades were a sexy enough time to base some sort of Skinemaxxx Softcore thing on it. Just me? I feel like that's a period of time that is just ripe for this sort of thing. It's all just pictures of portly, pale men in long robes and chain mail, looking menacing yet confused with most likely fake swords. So I chose.....sassy baby giraffe instead. Totally topical! Totes kewt.

Anywho.  These Gaul/Crusader hybrids brought the water buffalo to the marsh, swampy, fairly temperate south of Italy, who were super industrious and capitalized on these hearty animals to make a veritable plethora of delicious, rich cheeses.  The first mentions of mozzarella can be found in documents dating back to the 11th century – so it’s possible that the cheese is even older than that, but, to be fair to mozzarella, we can say it’s only about 1,00o years old.  Widespread production began in the mid 19th century, and only stopped when the Nazis showed up and KILLED ALL THE WATER BUFFALO.  Dicks.

Italy seems to have capitalized on the water buffalo more than anyone else on the planet.  ”Mozzarella di Bufala Campana” does not only have a DOC status, but also has the fancier and loftier titles of PDO (Protected Designation of Origin) and Protected Geographical Status.  AND there is an organization of about 200 mozzarella producers who have formed the Consorzio per la Tutela del Formaggio Mozzarella di Bufala Campana (that’s the “The Consortium for the Protection of the Buffalo Cheese of Campania” for you peons who don’t speak fluent Italian…), which sort of seems like the Scientology faction of the cheese making world.  So…don’t even try and PRETEND to make buffalo mozzarella.  These bitches have it on lockdown.

[Side note: The Consortium claims to have fossil evidence suggesting that the water buffalo came from Italy!  But they don't really like to flash it a whole lot.  In fact, the only person who can actually see the fossil is the man who founded the Consortium, and it lives at the bottom of his hat, but he had to bury it under a tree in Campania....you get the gist...]

Consortium HQ.

So why all the hubbub over buffalo milk mozzarella?  Well….it has to do with how rich buffalo milk is and how little milk an actual buffalo produces.  Buffalo milk has twice the fat, yet less in cholesterol, is super high in vitamin C, is generally easy on the lactose, and a herd of water buffalo produce only 1/5th the amount of milk that a herd of cows produces.  This shit is literal unicorn blood.  Buffalo milk mozzarella tends to be creamier, sweeter, and more flavorful than cow’s milk – it’s so much better that many people in Italy call cow’s milk “fior di latte” and just leave the term “mozzarella” for the stuff made from buffalo.  It’s kind of a big deal.  But, there are many other cheeses made from this rich milk; Quadrello di Bufala, a taleggio-style, lightly brined cheese that is fairly “gummy” in texture, and sweet, funky, and buttery in flavor.  Barliotto di Bufala, a ricotta salata-style number that isn’t salted.  Not to mention fresh robiolas that we can’t even get in this country.  So sweet!  So delicious!  Even the meat is better for you than a cow!  This stuff is magical!  Which brings me to the next topic: why is there only one buffalo farm left in the United States!

Well, one farm that produces milk used in cheese production.  A few years ago, it seemed as if there were buffalo farms popping up everywhere!  Everyone wanted DOMESTIC buffalo mozzarella, and you could find it fairly easily.  But, recently, all the farms seems to have dried up!  The one in Vermont moved to Canada?  The one in California seems to have just kind of put everything on hold?  There is one in Texas that hasn’t updated it’s website in what looks like 11 years.  And then there are a few farms that advertise their milk, but seem to be more interested in hockin’ their buffalo meat.  What’s going on, yo?!?!?!  There is one farm that I got really into researching – the packaging seems to imply that some old lady in Philadelphia is making it for national distribution!  But, after clicking around the shockingly flashy website, I stopped to actually read something, and realized that this is a buffalo dairy in Colombia.  That is probably fronting for some sort of drug operation.  It looks like buffalo milk cheeses require too much land and too much work for small, farmstead cheeses.  There is one buffalo farm in Wisconsin that sells to a local cheesemaking facility, but it doesn’t appear that the cheese makes it very far.  After working in this industry for nearly four years, I have never seen it, so who knows if it makes it out of the majestic midwest….

So it appears there is a giant hole in the market.  Italians have dominated the market.  But maybe….JUST MAYBE….one loyal cheese blog reader will buckle down, head out, and make the most delicious, all-American buffalo milk cheeses.  And sell them to us so that I can eat it alllllll.  Until then, I’m stuck with my mozzarella with an epicly huge global footprint.  GREAT.  THANKS A LOT ITALY.

Well, there you go.  A lot of information about water buffalo and their milk. Don’t you just want to go out and snuggle one?  Because I do.  And then eat their cheese.

To end, here is a great photo.  And a great video.  And I swear, this isn’t me making a silly Italian voice after drinking an entire bottle of Cynar.  It’s an actual guy.  In Europe.  Making buffalo fan videos.  Good for him!

OMG! It's William Taft riding a water buffalo! He would.

And now, a propaganda movie from the Consortium.  Those darn lazy buffalo!  Milking themselves.  Eating grass.  Lying in mud pools all day.  Feeling the flavor of the milk. The height of luxury!

I want one. See you next time, pals!

Ah, Valentine’s Day. Macaroni glued to construction paper hearts. Shiny red foil encasing waxy milk chocolates. Prix fixe menus at every restaurant in town. Aren’t you glad it’s all over with for the year? Whether you spent Hallmark’s favorite holiday gazing tenderly at your lover over oysters and champagne or tearfully power-watching One Tree Hill on Netflix with your cat, chances are you overindulged on sparkly pink things last week and could use a little RnR. And what do the Bedford Cheese Shop mongers do to truly relax? Eat whole quarts of blue cheese ice cream in our sweatpants? No. I mean, maybe. But probably.

We start with a blue cheese-custard base. While blue cheese ice cream is nothing new (Martha’s done it. Emeril’s done it. David’s done it.), I wanted to take this sundae over the top by using one of our shop favorites: Blauschimmel. Ecuador native Arturo Chiriboga studied cheese making in France before moving to Germany and setting up shop with a co-op of dairy farmers. His signature blue, modeled after Roquefort, is a dense and creamy cow’s milk that is often described as buttery and ice-creamy, making it the perfect choice for this dish. Imagine you took a piece of vanilla fudge, innoculated it with delicious mold, and then topped it off with a little sprinkling of fleur de sel… BOOM. Blauschimmel.

The chocolate comes from everyone’s favorite bearded Brooklyn candy-makers, the Mast Brothers. Their 70% bulk bars are the perfect bittersweet accompaniment to the salty-sweet ice cream. Top it all off with some Kirsh-soaked cherries and a whole bunch of sprinkles and you’ve got yourself an epically grown-up sundae. Now that the pressure of last week’s doily-filled holiday is off, find yourself a date and serve them some of this fancy-schmancy ‘scream. They’ll be falling for you like pandas off a slide, we promise.

For ice cream:

1 cup whole milk
1 cup heavy cream
¼ cup refined sugar
3 egg yolks, beaten
115 g Blauschimmel

Garnish:

1 jar Pariessenne Kirsch Cherries
100 g Mast Brothers 70% Chocolate, melted
1 tbsp unsalted butter
Chocolate sprinkles
A flaky sea salt, like Maldon

To prepare ice cream:
Heat cream, milk, and sugar in a saucepan over medium-high heat until small bubbles form and burst, do not boil.

Add ¼ cup of the hot cream to eggs, one tablespoon at a time, whisking constantly. Reduce heat to low and whisk egg mixture into saucepan.

Continue cooking, stirring and scraping the bottom of the pan frequently, until mixture thickens to coat the back of a spoon. Remove from heat and set aside.

Crumble cheese into pea-size pieces and place in a heatproof bowl. Strain the custard over the cheese and stir to combine. Cheese should be mostly incorporated, but a few visible chunks makes for great texture.

Let mixture cool to room temperature then cover and refridgerate for at least eight hours. Once cool, freeze in an ice cream maker according to manufacturers instructions. Store in freezer until firm or ready to serve.

To garnish, combine melted chocolate and butter, stirring til shiny.

Drizzle chocolate over ice cream. Top with cherries, sprinkles, and a pinch of salt.

My mind is usually all over the place, so the goal here is to exercise a focus in pairings. My idea is to take three beers of a specific style and pair them with three different cheeses. For a bonus, there will be one accoutrement to rule them all, to tie the whole thing together, if you will.  So maybe this is really just an accoutrement challenge…and relish is an accoutrement…and hot dogs go good with relish…and baseball season is coming! And…back to the beer, right.

When I’m choosing a beer to drink, 9 times out of 10 my pick is going to be driven by the weather.   Since we’re in the middle of this fabulous winter-spring mix, what sounds good today could sound ridiculous tomorrow.  So for arguments sake, let’s go with a cold weather favorite – Stout.   Stout is fantastic- it’s dirty, roasted bitterness makes me want to roll around in damp top soil wearing nothing but a loincloth and goggles.  But the world of stout is, like most styles of beer these days, wide and varied…best to hone it in a bit.  We’re going to take a look at three different domestic stouts, all of the imperial range, meaning higher ABV, bolder flavors, heavier body, and more smiles from ol’ Naters.

First up: Flying Dog Kujo Imperial Coffee Stout- 8.9% ABV, Flying Dog Brewery, Frederick, MD.  I’ve always liked the look of the bottles form these guys and the Ralph Steadman art, but have never really found that one beer in their line that would keep me coming back.  Let’s see if this guy does the trick: Robust and velvety, this big dog stout has hints of soil and bananas on the nose and a drinkable body. The toasted bitterness is pleasant, with chicory and baker’s chocolate notes.  The finish leaves a clean and bright bitterness that knows not to overstay its welcome.

This beer would like to spend 15 minutes in the back seat of mom’s Volvo with a nice chunk of Rogue River Caveman, a raw cow’s milk blue cheese from beautiful Oregon.  Be bold folks. Dirt tastes good.  Just don’t eat it from McCarren Park.

Second victim: The Dogfather from Laughing Dog Brewing in exotic Indiana, Ponderay to be exact, clocking in at a whopping 10.9% ABV. The label is adorable, although the thought of dogs being able to fire guns…actually that’s pretty cool.  Toasted hazelnuts, dark roasted coffee bounce out of the head. It smells boozy…esther, that’s her name.  Smooth, rich texture and a super silky finish.  It’s like bitter chocolate pudding that gets you drunk.  Has all the earthy stuff I want in a stout and isn’t all chewy thick.

The Dogfather would like to have a sitdown with Tomme Berger, a washed rind blend of goat and sheep milk from France. The sweetness of the milk has wonderful interplay with the sugars in the beer, and they both have just enough bitterness to keep you questioning what you are tasting as they evolve while you sip and snack.

Finally we get to Lyons, Colorado’s own Oskar Blues Brewery and their Ten Fidy Imperial Stout (alas, I couldn’t find another dog themed beer).  Kicking at 10.5 ABV, it will probably get your ’75 Monte Carlo to the repair shop and back in a pinch.  It really is drinkable motor oil; delicious, round motor oil.  Barely any head comes form the pour and it smells like the next day’s campfire.  Slightly sweet caramel and chocolate flavors bounce off the heavy texture as it gently slides down the gullet.

Oh, you're a naughty girl!

A beer of this nature needs something washed and buttery.  I like it with Rebolchon Kuntener, a raw cow milk cheese from Switzerland.  The textures of  both these products can be described with one word: LUSH.

Accoutrement grand prize winner: Larchmont Charcuterie Beef Saucisson Sec! Musty and funky, this chunk of meat has the beef to hold up to these large brews. Made by a nice Frenchman just outside the city, I’ve become quite the fan of these products- it’s a nice switcheroo from pork sausages.

So there you have it- go forth and build your own dinner of cheese, meat, and regal brews and thank yourself before, during, and most definitely after.  Until next time, when we go deep behind the scenes in Belgium, don’t forget about your good friend beer.

It had been decided. I was CLEARLY lactose intolerant. I shoved my last cow’s milk based treat down my throat and tried to enjoy my final moments as one of the blissfully easy breezy lactose tolerant. I quickly jumped to and in a flash was at my third most visited website (after this and this one), the all knowing WebMD. Many a late night had been dedicated to researching grave medical disorders that I was positive I had contracted while hustling cheese on the streets of Williamsburg. Face Blindness. Moebius Syndrome. Progeria. Gout. Irritability.  This began my grand journey into the world of dairy intolerance, and the subject of this week’s blog post!

(In case you are wondering, honey boo boo child, after careful study, I have self-diagnosed myself as NOT being lactose intolerant.  After downing an entire 2L bottle of Cherry Coke Zero and eating some Wintergreen lifesavers I spent the rest of the night reorganizing the cupboards in my kitchen and burping…)

For someone who has made a career out of surrounding himself with dairy products, I come into contact with several upon dozens of people who couldn’t possibly touch the stuff due to their EXTREME intolerance to cheese.  ”Man all this looks SOOOOO good!  If only I wasn’t lactose intolerant.  I’m just getting this for a little intimate dinner party I’m having, so it’s not even for me…” Winky face.

The culprit. Lactose. And the title of this informative blog post! I mean. I can't tell you anything about what this means. Except it looks like a tramp stamp that some Google nerd would get on spring break. In chemistry I pretty much learned how to nap with my eyes wide open while also nodding affirmatively at 45 second intervals...

Well guess what.  I’m here to tell you that at long last, despite your “lactose intolerance,” it may be possible to enjoy cheese.  Oh yes.  CHEESE.  Not milk.  Not Go-Gurt.  Not root beer floats topped with a delicious mound of whipped cream.  But cheese.  Cheese is a different story.

So for starters, what does it even mean to be lactose intolerant?  Well.  This week I am getting all scientific on y’all and I’m gonna lay it down for you.  Ok.  So it turns out that milk is FULL of sugars.  One of these sugars, lactose, is broken down by an enzyme called lactase, which lives in a small condo in the small intestines, which then converts the sugar into energy.

Yeah! Lactase is all about grit, glamour, and THE EDGE. Right there in your lower intestine, right on the Williamsburg waterfront...

Unfortunately, for those who call themselves “lactose intolerant” and claim that a mere morsel of cheese could never pass their dainty lips, you probably lack the amount of the lactase enzyme (or you just don’t have ANY) in your lower intestine to digest the sugars found in milk. As a result, you feel like crap because there is all this stuff in your digestive tract that you can’t digest. And you might actually start crappin’. It’s a definite possibility.  So I’m very sorry – we will never share a cool glass of buttermilk on a warm May morning before we go gather wildflowers in the meadow.  BUT I HAVE A SURPRISE TO TELL YOU!

OK.  Put down your taquitos, take a seat, and listen to this.  During the cheese making process, the majority of lactose which is found in milk is expelled in the form of whey.  As a result, a young cheese often carries less than 10% the amount of lactose found in whole milk.  AND the amount of lactose diminishes the longer you age a cheese – so you got your Emmenthal, you got your Cheddar, and you got your pecorinos.  All up for grabs in the world of the lactose intolerant!  Even if you have zero lactase in yer gut, you should be able to enjoy the world of cheese (in moderation.)  So get out there and start cubing up all the cheese you can find, grab a toothpick, and go to town.  But – a word of warning.  Many of the cryo-vac cheeses you buy in the supermarket which are labeled “Aged,” are in fact factory produced and aren’t actually aged ATALL.  The flavor is a chemical product, meaning that these cheeses might still contain traces of lactose, which will cause unfortunate borborygmus.

Literal wall of lies.

Now, some people might say that cow’s milk is the harshest on the stomach of those who are lactose intolerant. This is actually true, and this is due to the way fat in the milk is dispersed. Cow’s milk is not a naturally homogenized dairy product, meaning the fat can separate from the milk and form cream. This large fat protein is extra hard for those with weak lactase enzymes to break down. But, in other milks, the fat is naturally homogenized. Meaning, the proteins are smaller, and easier to break down. So, if you want to stay extra safe, try noshing on some aged goat cheese. For example, Caprotto – a lemony, salty, nutty treat from Italy. Or perhaps, Evalon – a sweet, creamy raw milk round from Wisconsin. You couldn’t possibly go wrong.

So let’s fast forward. Say you listened to my Bailey’s fueled rant about lactose. Say you went out and ate a whole bunch of aged cheese, laughing to the heavens with glee and delight, only to spend the rest of the night wrapped around a toilet. Well first off. I’m sorry. I warned you. But I also tricked you into eating cheese. So. Blog – 1. Blog reader – 0. But. Sorry. And, is it possible that you have a DAIRY ALLERGY?

I tried to come up with a picture of a cow vs. goat. vs. sheep, but they all turned out to be creepy cartoons. This is the best I could come up with. Look at that frown!

Different from being lactose intolerant, a DAIRY ALLERGY is an actual genetic disorder in your immune system, in which your body identifies the milk protein casein as an attack on your bod-day. As a result, your immune system goes into overdrive and does anything it can to get the protein out of your body, often causing EXTREME RESULTS. Which are terrible, but I’m sure you can all imagine what would happen. Like….extreme nose hair growth. Or. Terrible mackerel halitosis. All possible. There are lots of different caseins, and they vary from species to species, which explains why somoene might be able to eat sheep’s milk cheese but barfs a little at the mere thought of a small taster of cow’s milk cheese.

So if you are pukin’ at the slightest taste of dairy, it’s probably a milk allergy. Not lactose intolerant. So git it right. And again….I’m sorry.

Well, there you have it! Your highly educational blog for the bi-week! I hope you go forth and correctly identify your dairy concerns from here on out. See you next time!

But, seriously.  I don’t know if it’s because it’s cold and rainy in Brooklyn, but Sardinia looks pretty sweet right about now. Relatively hilly and with craggy cliffs leading up to the blue, temperate ocean, it looks like the setting for a James Bond movie, and is clearly home to the craziest and most awesome pirate people on the planet.

Pretty sure Grace Jones, as the lovely and terrifying May Day, lives on a Viking Ship moored off the coast of Sardinia...

Home to sun drenched escarpments, rolling hills littered with bushes of scraggly local fauna, lovely cheeses (Flor di Capra or Fiore Sardo, por ejemplo), a lot of sheep, and a lot of goats, my quest for information about Sardinia was fueled by one thing, and one thing only: Casu Marzu.  This cheese has become something of an urban dairy legend (right up there with the Chinese Food Sex Scarecrow, rent controlled apartments, and this) and every now and then, some smart aleck customer will come in and try and one-up our cheese selection by bringing this ol’ thang up.

What is Casu Marzu, pray tell?  Well, time to put down your crudité niblet and white wine spritzer and listen closely.  Casu Marzu is one of the grossest (or if you are one of those types, “EXTREME”) foods of the internet lore lexicon.  Basically it’s a perfectly good cheese that has been aged while full of living, breathing, creeping, crawling, squirming, grossing me out maggots.  That’s right – it’s good ol’ fashioned maggot cheese.

Enough protein for the South Beach Diet! I'll take my dressing on the side, pleeze.

Yummerz!

Talk about a way to go off eating for a bit and give you terrible malaria dreams!  But hey.  While you are rocking back and forth in the corner of your dimly lit studio apartment, clutching yourself and wondering why anyone would dare create such a disaster of a cheese product (well, it may not cause as many waking nightmares as thisdoes…), just remember it comes from that island paradise called SARDINIA.

Sardinia: Home To Your Worst Food Nightmares. And Grace Jones.

So how does this little baby start?  Well, let’s start with geography.  Sardinia is a small, hilly island.  Unlike the Alps, there aren’t very many lush pastures for large herds of heritage breed bovine to graze in.  So that rules out rich cow’s milk cheese.  A lush coastal exterior gives way to a hot and sunny interior, resulting in shrubby vegetation.  Which means one thing and one thing only: lots of sheep (and lots of goats, but we’ll don’t really need to pay attention to them at the moment…).  These little suckers are perfectly happy rolling around hills, hopping from rock to rock, nibbling ol’ tin can bushes and cigarette butt florettes.  Sounds like heaven.  Or Williamsburg.  So, that leaves us with knowing that this cheese is a pecorino, or an Italian sheep’s milk cheese. (Little sidetrack lesson. “Pecora” = sheep in Italian.  Hence, “pecorino” = Italian sheep’s milk cheese.  Ta da! Two lessons in one…)

Alright.  So this cheese starts simply enough, as Fiore Sardo.  A DOP cheese, it is essentially a smoked pecorino, that usually is really strong, tastes like you threw a bushel of tobacco on a fire, and is aged for about 8 to 10 months.

I usually reserve this cheese for old European men who have been smoking since the Spanish Revolution and can only taste motor oil and acid. So smokey and meaty!

 

But here is where things get FISHY. And by fishy, I mean covered in flies. So, these old mountain men herd the sheep, milk the sheep, make cheese is copper vats using rustic, traditional methods, then smoke the cheese for three months. Three months into the process, they take the cheese out from the smokin’ hut that it lives in, slice the top of it off, and just kind of plop the wheels of cheese out on a table. This way, flies can lay their eggs into the paté of the cheese and let the maggots go to town. AND these aren’t just any ol’ flies that are zipping around the farm. These are specifically, Piophili casei, or CHEESE FLIES. Gross. I just threw up half a mouthful of vomit into my own hands thinking about this process. From this point, there is littler information as to what the continued aging process is. Do they leave the cheese out on a table? Does it go back into a smoker? For how long? I’m imagining it’s a couple of weeks, but I could be totally off base here. If anyone has ever had any experience making maggot based products, please put me in my place.

So. You’ve got your cheese. It’s full of thousands of maggots. Now they are basically crawling around this cheese mold, eating the rich, fatty sheep’s milk cheese and pooping it out. The enzymes in the maggot digestive tract decompose the cheese paté, making a gooey, creamy, at times liquefied cheese by-product. Supposedly, the cheese “weeps,” which Sardinian cheese-pirates dub “lagrimas” or TEARS (probably brought on by the terror of watching maggot cheese be made…). Essentially, this is a fermented wheel of cheese. It’s the kimchi of the cheese world.

From here, the terror doesn’t end. Your cheese rind has essentially turned into a bread bowl, cradling your putrefied maggot blob inside. But from here, you can sit down and eat! Nom nom nom. Call your whole family over to dinner. Your grandma. Your neighbors. That cute guy you sat next to on the bus that one time and you are pretty sure he was giving you the moves even though he was probably just forced into a crowded bus which is why he kept brushing up against your leg and the only reason you could tell it was happening was because you were wearing jean hot pants in January. ALL OF EM. In Sardinia, this cheese is reserved for super special occasions. So, time to make up a holiday (Happy Zicam Cold Remedy Biannual!) and throw a maggot party.

You remove the lid, and the interior is a squirming, ivory colored mash of goo. And then dive in! Scoop away! But watch out! Because apparently, maggots can leap OUT of the cheese, to a distance of up to 6 whole inches. So. Watch out for your eyes. This is traditionally eaten on a piece of crispy flatbread (or perhaps Tostinos Scoops), accompanied by a huge goblet of really big red wine. Oh, and you definitely want to get some maggots onto your slice of heaven. That’s the whole fun! Et voila. Your party is a success!

Supposedly the flavor is very strong. Some say it’s gorgonzola-esque, with a definite bestial quality, and a black pepper finish. Oh, and, many claim it’s an aphrodisiac! Which means you should definitely invite that sultry stranger from the bus over! Because who knows what could happen when you have a belly full of squirming, cheesy maggots. **Sigh** I’m pretty sure that’s how most Meg Ryan rom-coms start. Right?

More like "You've Got a Belly Full of Maggots." Oh wait. That's just my physical reaction to Tom Hanks....

So. Apart from the obvious, there are some things to remember about this cheese. A.) Some might try to tell you that this cheese is illegal. But, in fact, due to a loophole in European Union food-hygiene regulations that has to do with the European Union protecting traditional methods of food preparation (and apparently the government of Sardinia has published some sort of instructional guide on how to make this…) it’s totally legal! It’s just real hard to find. Although there is supposedly a restaurant in Queens that will offer you a taste after your meal of Spaghetti Carbonara. Just make sure to order whatever will taste just as good going down as it does coming up. And now, B.) Be careful when eating live maggots! Some of them can survive stomach acid, and then will lodge in your intestines, eating through the walls of your digestive tract, and it will result in your body filling up with poop. Literally. Poop.

THERE YOU HAVE IT. Yes, maggot cheese is a real thing. That’s how you make it. That’s where it comes from. That’s how you eat it. That’s how it is still around AND that’s how your body fills with fecal matter. Ta da! Now, for further visual education, here are two videos that are fairly informative (albeit filled with pasty white wiener over eaters who are totally obnoxious to look at and even more annoying to listen to). Don’t say I didn’t warn you! Adios! XOXO.

Gordon Ramsey doesn’t like embedding. Apparently.

Why does Gordon Ramsey act that way? Is he a meth head? Huffing paint?