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.