A Night of Blues at Tria Fermentation School

Last night was a dream to remember. I went around the world, eating blues – well, figuratively, at Tria’s Fermentation School. When Tria Wine Director Michael McCauley invited me to teach a class there, I never imagined he’d fall for my trick: a chance to effervesce about blue cheese.

One reason I’m wild about this style of cheese is that so many cultures have developed iconic blues. Italians exude Gorgonzola. The French can think only of Roquefort. In Spain, you find Valdeon and firey Cabrales, while the Brits pick at nubby crumbs of Stilton. Even in Ireland, you find creamy Cashel. And let’s not forget the Danes with their Saga or the U.S. with its Iowa flower, Maytag.

At Tria, the fantastic staff helped me pick perfect pairings for 7 wedges of blue. And off we went, around the world on our blue cheese expedition, from mild and milky to ultra-rich and ferocious, with sides of Allagash-steeped cherries and chocolate-fig jam. Here's the recap.

Seven blues, served w/apple butter, cherries & chocolate-fig jam

Cremificato Verde Capra

Pairing: Vouvray Pétillant Brut, Domaine Huet, ‘05

A gorgeous goat blue from Lombardy, served with brilliant sparkly.

Rogue River Smokey Blue

Boon Kriek Lambic

Like an exotic cigarette and a cherry kiss, all at once. Fantastic.

Gorgonzola Cremifacto

Valpocella Superiore, “Ripasso,” Bussola ‘06

A lazy blue with a rambunctious red – the wine was liquid chocolate.

Colston Bassett Stilton with a Stichelton chaser

J.W. Leese Harvest Ale, 2010

Two glorious beasts from the stilton world -- one pasteurized, the other raw – served with not-too-sweet barleywine.  

Cabrales

Pedro Ximénez “Gran Reserva,” Bodegas Toro Albalâ, ‘82

This wicked, sinus-clearing blue was beautifully tamed by a drop of PX.

Carles Roquefort

Sauternes, Chateua Laribotte, ‘05

Salty sheep’s milk meets gorgeous straw-colored Sauternes. It's like a perfect personal ad.  

Birchrun Blue Fudge from Betty’s Tasty Buttons

Banyuls, “Vielles Vignes,” Domaine du Mas Blanc, ‘91

Local fudge kissed with Sue Millers salty blue, served with a spectacular port-like creature.

The Cheese Map, from the back of the tasting menu

~
Many thanks to the great folks at Tria for providing a venue like this in Philadelphia. The Fermentation School is used for staff trainings throughout the week (Tria has 3 wine bars that serve an eclectic, ever-changing selection of cheeses, wine, beer, and meals), and tastings for the public are held several times per month. Their event calendar is a must-bookmark site and is especially useful for keeping track of happy hour and their ever-popular Sunday School program (a special offering of beer, wine, and cheese -- at a very low price, only on Sundays).

A Blue Cheese Party

It was a gorgeous afternoon yesterday, perfect for ripe cheese on the patio.

Picture cherry trees in blossom, birds canoodling on telephone wires, carpenter bees weaving in loopy script around gutters. Such was the scene at yesterday’s Blue Cheese-Off in Center City Philadelphia, hosted by Blue Cheese Goddess Tracy T. She met her guests with ice-blue nails, a full skirt, and a bandana dotted with constellations.

When I arrived with my valise of blues, guests were sipping demi cocktails in the kitchen – thanks to the exquisite liquor cabinet that BC Goddess recently inherited from her landlord’s deceased kin. I enjoyed a thimble-full of something that tasted like my grandmother’s 4711 eau de cologne and began unwrapping my selection. Our man, the Blue Cheese Brit, followed close on my heels, full of gusto, as he had just paid a visit to his personal cheese boy at Di Bruno Bros., acquiring “a blue that would change our lives.”

A little background: the Blue Cheese Brit is a sciency sort with impeccable table manners and an elegant palate. When he snaps his fingers, fabulous cheeses seem to fall from the sky. Every few weeks he hosts a last-minute bash that is never to be missed; his cheese board is always immaculate, as in immaculately conceived. It is revelation.

Out in the garden, the BC Goddess pulled out her blue lawn chairs. Her guests – a pair of whippety boys – reclined and sipped in the sun. Our photographer, Fusty Camembert, readied his camera. In the kitchen, the Blue Cheese Brit and I dueled over placement on the cheese platter. Toothpicks were sent for. Scorecards were distributed. One of the whippets – a boy I’ll call the Official Cheese Bearer – offered his services as waiter.

As the sun dribbled low and the birds got down to business, Madame Fromage uttered a few grandiloquent things into the atmosphere, and began, for lack of better word choice, to cut the cheese. The Official Cheese Bearer passed out the first selection, followed by a dish of palate-cleansing baby carrots. Over the next hour, the six of us sampled 5 blues, ranging from mild to “life-changing,” with only a single near-fatality. Alas, the Official Cheese Bearer had to withdraw himself from the tasting after he suffered tongue-burn.

Here is our cheese flight, from mild to mondo:

1. Blue Suede Moo, Keswick Creamery of Newburg, Pa. (cow’s milk, raw)
2. Cremificato Verdi Capra, Italy (goat’s milk, raw)
3. Birchrun Blue, Birchrun Hills Farm, Chester Springs, Pa. (cow’s milk, raw)
4. Buttermilk Bleu Affinée, Roth Käse, Wisconsin (cow’s milk, raw)
5. Cabrales, Spain (goat and cow milk, raw)

The Blue Suede was a crowd-pleaser, likable and friendly. The blue-cheese novice in the group found this delightful. The Cremificato was the most beautiful cheese on the plate, a snow-white slab with pencil-thin blue lines; it was frosting-wet with a delicate bite at the finish. Birchrun Blue was deemed “most tempting for repeat samples,” while the Bleu Affinée garnered the most raves for tasting like a “true blue” – buttery and sharp with a strong slap at the end, plus an “incredible mouthfeel.” Alas, the Cabrales did change our lives.

We tasted it on spoons, as directed by the cheese boy at Di Bruno Bros., scraping the hard surface to loosen multi-hued crumbles. Friends, it was so blue, it burned. The Blue Cheese Goddess compared it to a “topical anesthetic,” while the Official Cheese Bearer ran into the kitchen, claiming he couldn’t feel his tongue. The Blue Cheese Brit simply inhaled deeply, as if from a fag, and declared, “This takes me into the cave.”

The sun went down, and the sky shifted from blue to blue-black. New guests arrived. Ceviche was served. Cucumber martinis appeared between the blue-tipped fingers of our lovely hostess, and when the night was almost over – as the gumdrop course arrived – I looked over at the cheese platter to see that it had been reduced to a few rinds in the moonlight. Ahhh, beautiful. What is better than strong cheeses in spring, eaten among friends? I think I will raid the crisper and read some Rimbaud.