the brie interloper

I’ve been busy preparing for my move from the US back to the UK. Finally booked my flight and am now pulling out my hair trying to get it all done before Sept 12 rolls around. Tiring, tiring, tiring – physically and emotionally.

But there’s been some movement on the cheese front in the form of Brie de Nangis.

I’ve had some trouble warming to brie – sometimes I love it; when it’s rich and gooey and has collapsed in a puddle, and needs some crisp bread to scoop it up. Sometimes I don’t love it; when it’s a solid inch-and-a-half high wedge of tastless stodge, with a strange furry coating and a bland, benign taste.

Well it turns out that there is legitimate brie, and faux brie and I’ve tried one of each this past couple of weeks.

Brie de Coulonnes and Brie de Nangis

Both purchased from Real Foods, Brie de Coulonnes confirmed all my worst fears about Brie.  It stood up by itself, which is never a good sign.  And didn’t taste of much either.  Big and firm can be good when used to describe some things but not in describing Brie.

Picking off the label I scuttled off to Google the details.  Couldn’t find much but I did find an excellent site that outlined  which Bries were kosher, so to  speak. It seemed that the Brie de Coulonnes was not included on this list.  Hmmm.  Did this mean that this was a faux-brie?

Armed with a modicum of information I decided to try another Brie.  Brie de Nangis.  This was quite a different kettle of cheese. Tightly wound in saran wrap it had been cut from a bigger wheel at the store.  The wrapping was the only thing keeping it together – the gooey, yellowish filling squishing out from between the chalky crust.

I smooshed it onto some crusty bread and tucked in. The ‘afterwhiff’ of ammonia was striking as I thought about how different it was from the brie interloper. It was rich, and was a decadent, sluttish contrast to the uptight faux-brie with its soapy taste.

Yep, slutty cheese, that’s what I’m after.

book report

My minor plan to follow the Tour de France next year, eating local cheese along the way, put me in mind of this chap. Tony Hawks has written some funny travel books based on some intriguing exploits. Not that I’d compare myself to him or his abilities, but it made me log onto the Berkeley Library online catalogue to see if they had ‘Round Ireland with a Fridge‘. They didn’t, but they did have ‘Playing the Moldovans at Tennis‘.

In an aside, I’ll be sorry to leave my current office so conveniently located a block or so from the Berkeley library. When I first moved here in 2000 I had to dispose of my extensive book collection and resolved not to end up in that situation again. Berkeley Library has been fantastic – I’ve invariably been able to find the book I’ve been looking for, or its close relative, on a wide range of subjects. Use your libraries, folks.

So. Tony has written several follow-up books, the latest involving a trip to France and a piano. I’m just trailing in his wake, really. Maybe I should be giving this Tour/cheese idea more serious consideration?

method to my madness?

My good friend and acquaintance Dr Silver has been pondering the reason behind my first cheese selection (there wasn’t one) – was I going to start by eating all the chevre, or all those beginning with the letter ‘p’?

Clearly, I’d been going at this process like a bull in a china shop.  Dr Silver is a scientist and is given to careful planning.  I work with librarians but, sadly, none of their attention to detail has rubbed off on me yet, beyond my plans to obsessively tag all my entries.

So now I’m forced to wonder if I need to creat some kind of protocol for the cheese-eating.  Cheese manuals must be browsed, maps must be consulted, and if necessary I’ll draw up a thorough scheme.

I do have one idea: to follow the 2007 Tour de France and eat all the cheese I find along the way.  That may add some fun to the process.

Picandou

Picandou chevre cheese.

Impatient to get on with the cheese eating, and to try a cheese that wasn’t Brie, I went to Real Foods in SF to see what they had and came out with this little chap.

The teeny-tiny cheese didn’t pack the anticipated wallop of the usual chevre (I haven’t worked out how to do a grave accent yet), but was mild and very creamy.  Not bland, however.
Some minor googling revealed that this cheese is from Perigord, Burgundy.  Some websites recommended wine pairings, but I paired mine with some Ryvita and ‘Hell’s Kitchen’.  Nothing goes with imported cheese like a rabid michelin-starred chef.  And I say that with love in my heart.  Ramsay rocks. Nearly as much as Tony.

how it began

I can’t quite recall where I first heard the number 350 , but I’ve decided to blame NPR.  I only listen to NPR in the morning, in lieu of Radio 4, and at some point the figure must have wormed its way into my addled consciousness.

350.  The number, allegedly, of French cheeses.  I also don’t remember at which point I thought it might be amusing to eat them all, but soon that was at the forefront of my mind pushing out useful ideas like ‘must do laundry’ and ‘remember to pay the rent’.   The idea to blog my progress followed swiftly after.

Primarily, this blog exists to amuse myself, rather than to impress others.  That’s just the way I roll, but I’m grateful to my friends and recent dinner companions at the ALA who found this idea entertaining and encouraged me, if only so they could laugh at me afterwards.

My six-year stint in the US ends soon and I’ll be heading back to Blighty, conveniently located next door to France.  I’m anticipating some cheese-eating in situ, rather than making several runs to Tesco.  But who knows.