Showing posts with label New York Cheese. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New York Cheese. Show all posts

Friday, November 25, 2011

C Local: A Stinker That Reeks of Controversy

C Local (left) on our New York-themed cheese board


It has always been my dream to eat Thanksgiving in Manhattan so that I could prepare a fierce cheese plate for the occasion. Thankfully, the occasion came tumbling by and so I found myself at Murray’s last Tuesday, dodging raindrops to buy glorious cheese – “as whiffy and local as possible,” I entreated the cheesemongers.

And so I found my reigning loverboy, this sheep’s milk stinker washed in beer from Brooklyn Brewery. It’s creamy, it’s funky; it smells like body sweat. My friend P., a New Yuck native, called it “sneakery.”

Served with a shmear of strawberry-balsamic jam and a goblet of malty Belgian brown ale, C Local became the platform for my best bite of the weekend. Turkey is lovely, cranberry sauce, too, but nothing beats a beefcake slathered with preserves. Let your mind wander.

Meanwhile, I’ll tell you about this controversial crescent. Back in October, The New York Times wrote about C Local and stirred up a lot of dander over the term affinage (off-ee-NAJ), the process of aging cheese. Cheese shops nowadays engage in a lot of playful tinkering with rinds, and skilled mongers trained in affinage will take in young orphan cheeses and bathe them in spirits to produce a unique specialty.

C Local is a case in point. The mongers receive wheels of a bloomy sheep's milk cheese, called Kinderhook Creek, from Old Chatham Sheepherding Co., and instead of selling them right away, the folks at Murray’s wash these wheels in Brooklyn Brewery's Local 2. By tending to the cheese, they produce a very different product – a one-of-kind wheel that’s sold in limited quantity, often at a premium. 

For someone like me, this is a treat. I love the cheeses produced by Old Chatham, and the beer wash morphs these gentle bloomies into something cantankerous and slightly crusty – just to my liking. 

In the Times article, cheese god Steven Jenkins (author of Cheese Primer) ranted against this practice, attacking cheesemongers for ramping up costs to the consumer and creating a class war among cheese buyers. His response lit up Twitter for several days.

While I am all for equity, I don’t understand Jenkins’ crowbar tongue on the subject of affinage. Ripening cheese requires skill in the same way that, say, refinishing a table requires skill. If I buy a refinished table, I expect to pay the person who slathered on the varnish and attended to final touches.

All this to say, C Local was the highlight of Thanksgiving. Seek it out. And ask for Syd, cheesemongress extraordinaire. She helped me pick out the stunning accoutrements for my New York Locavore Cheesegiving. The day's bounty is detailed below.


New York Locavore Cheese Plate

Friday, September 18, 2009

Hudson Valley Camembert

This post is my humble bow to New York cheeses.

Last weekend, Madame took a wee road trip to Binghamton to visit an old cheese companion who recently moved to the state. Being dairy dreamers, we found ourselves in the local Wegmans, groping the cold cases and befriending the monger, a delightful woman named Kim.

“Kim,” I said, “What’s the best local cheese?”

Kim narrowed her eyes and fingered her smock. Under her breath, she mentioned something about a processed strawberry-flavored cheese, and when she saw our frozen grins, she walked us over to a dairy case and slipped me a square cheese wrapped in white paper: Hudson Valley Camembert.

I nearly fainted. Camembert from New York? Imagine finding truffles growing in Detroit. I shrugged, dropped it into my basket, and trotted off in search of a crusty baguette.

Friends, I had under-estimated the cheese makers of New York. I’d read about the state’s Farmstead & Artisan Cheese Guild, which includes fifty-some producers, but when I think of vacationing in cheese states, I spin the bottle toward Wisconsin, California, and Vermont. Now I’m ashamed.

The Hudson Valley Camembert was lunatic good: grassy, buttery, peppery, and the rind had a beautiful bloom. The mouthfeel was exquisite, so satiny. It was like eating oysters.

HV Camembert (think: Louis Vuitton Camembert) is made by Old Chatham Sheepherding Company, home to 1,000 East Friesian crossbred woolies. The Clarks, who run the farm, make their soft-ripened ‘bert using fresh milk from their own sheep, mixing it with their neighbor’s BGH-free cow’s milk.

In 2001, this Camembert won “Best Cheese in America” at the U.S. Cheese Championship. Where was I?

To make up for lost time, I will definitely be ordering some Old Chatham Ewe’s Blue and some Camembert Buttons – the gift baskets sold online are adorable. I’m also curious about the company’s ginger-flavored sheep’s milk yogurt.

Looks like I may have to make a pilgrimage to Old Shaker Museum Road in Chatham, NY to meet the Clarks, and pay my respects.