Calkins Creamery Pastured Paulin
Comes from: cows
Purchased at: Whole Foods
$15.99/lb
my cheese diaries
This cheese is tough to describe. It tastes a whole lot like feta, but when I think of feta I think of chunklets that are a bit chewy, but also... full of holes, you know? And this cheese's texture is... well, it's lightweight, as if it were full of holes, and yet there are no holes to be seen. It is *less dense* than its appearance might suggest. It's like, if you had a chunk of, well, Capricho de Cabra or La Tur, and then cut off all the melty outside bits, so only the vaguely-sandy-but-that-sounds-bad-so-I-don't-mean-sandy-maybe-I-just-mean-drier inside bits remained? This cheese would be like that. Soft enough to crush with your tongue alone, but not melty or liquid soft. Just... soft.
It's soft and melty, almost like brie, and not at all like blue cheese; this cheese has only the occasional small chunky bit. It's really almost mild, for a blue cheese; hell, it *is* mild. It's the sort of blue cheese you'd serve to your friend who hates blue cheese. But it's just... so good. There's a creamy bite, and then if you sort of wait and hold the cheese in your mouth (hi, this blog is basically porn, isn't it?) there's a sweet, almost fruity taste. Seriously. It's weird. What the hell is that taste? Why does it remind me of something? What does it remind me of?
This is a pretty good cheese; the man at the stand described it to me as a gouda, which seems about right. It's not a particularly strong or sharp cheese, but it's got a solid mild flavor and a really good bite to it: chewy, not too dry, just... mmm.
Clockwise, from the whitish one Marjorie's hand is cutting: goat milk gouda (Trader Joe's), pastore sini (Whole Foods), drunken goat cheese (Whole Foods), abondance cheese (Trader Joe's), Saint Andre (Trader Joe's), brie (Trader Joe's).
title text: the mystery of the exotic produce
title text: poor people have got sore junk
You know, every so often I think, man, maybe goat cheeses are not my favorite. Maybe I do like sheep cheeses more, since I don't hate sheep cheeses as much as I thought I did. (Logic! It is not there.) Maybe... cows?
But then, I don't hate sheep cheeses either. How often do I have a double play where I say, "Man, these cheeses are both pretty awesome?" Um... pretty often, really. I am not that selective.
So this cheese. This cheese was good, a very mild sheep's cheese. Or do I mean sheeps' cheese? Can I assume that all of the milk that went into making this cheese came from a single ewe? I don't think I can. But "sheeps' cheese"? Really? And yes, I know that the sheep did not make this cheese, did not consent to be slaves of The Man and have their nipples macerated every day by giant milking machines so that a certain zaftig, largely sedentary female human in a bright and shiny apartment building in a far-away city could consume their lipidated sweat.
This cheese was also a solid choice, if *also* a little too mild for my tastes. I mean, it's *supposed* to be mild, I think. But, y'know, too mild to eat alone. Which is how I eat my cheeses. And all of my meals. For the rest of my life.
This cheese was okay. It was very sharp; I'm trying to think of what it'd pair with, food-wise. Salad, obviously -- it's not exactly traditional-crumbly enough for salad, but I bet it would be good sliced thin and scattered over spinach leaves -- and I'm coming up with only beer. Beer, salad, maybe stick some of this cheese on toothpicks at your fancy-shmancy dinner parties, though be warned that it's probably crumbly enough to get all over your inherited carpets. Whatevs; that's what the help is for.
This cheese I liked better, though that might just be because it was meltier and I was in a kind of melty mood. A little less sharp of a blue, and like I said, a little meltier, but only a little. Think... I dunno, cross blue cheese with brie, and that's how soft this was. Kind of.
An interesting blue cheese, with pear brandy and grape leaves thrown in. Crumbly, moist, palate-sticky in texture, the way a blue cheese should be. The grape leaves were especially interesting; they added an almost peppery but not overpowering flavor to the cheese within. Overall, a solid cheese whose additives (for once) complimented the whole rather than just confused the fuck out of it.
Also a pretty good cheese. Not quite as dry as parmigiano in texture and bite, but edging close. Not really a sandwich cheese, but the flavor is pretty mild all the same. (Also, still more evidence that I need to rethink my anti-sheep bias, but shhh. Shhhhhh.)
Damn, this was good sheep cheese. I am surprised. In fact, I am beginning to think that maybe I don't hate sheep cheeses after all?
This is a pretty solid pecorino, this one is. A little on the salty side, even for pecorino, which is always salty as hell (and that is why I love it). Standard-issue pecorino-hard (Y'all know where pecorino falls on the hardness scale, right? It's pretty hard and flaky, if you haven't been paying attention, so a dry kind of hard.). The peppercorns (big ol' crunchy peppercorns) are a nice touch. It's not too much pepper, this cheese, but it is the *right* amount of pepper.
Leading off the triple play we have the best of the three (sorry), Fromage D'Affinois. I was a little nervous about this player, since it sported just the same shade/kind of rind as the oft-maligned French feet-cheddar of doom. But lo! I was mistaken, because this was a mild, very runny cheese of the more-or-less brie variety. It was *delicious*.
(Yes, Whole Foods spelled "latte" wrong. HA HA HA SNOBS.)
And this cheese suffered, also, only in comparison to the other two. See, it's a *great* cheddar. Or at least a very good one, if not quite seaside cheddar... but then, this cheddar was more cheddar than seaside cheddar, so... whatever you're looking for, I guess. Still not terribly cheddary, but... like the memory of cheddar, carried on a chewier, flakier wind. Or something. It's just, I kind of was in a runny-cheese mood? And consequently I was like, meh, cheddar. You know?