How to Make a Downton Abbey Cheese Plate

I can’t seem to get enough of the PBS series, Downton Abbey, and neither can you. This became clear at the Cheddar class I taught on Friday night at Tria’s Fermentation School. It was a Masterpiece Theater-loving crowd (lots of beards and one waistcoat); Lady Grantham would have fit right in.

By the end of the night, we’d eaten seven Cheddars, and there was hardly a crumb on the tables. After everyone left, I couldn’t help but imagine them settling in on their settees at home with a spot of port and an episode of Downton Abbey cued up for a nightcap. Since today is Sunday, and you’ll surely be watching, let me offer you a few crumbs of wisdom about building a Downton worthy cheese plate.

Photo credit: JBUK_Planet

First off, Downton Abbey is shot in Cheddar country, in Hampshire, just one county over from Somerset. Highclere Castle (above) is the actual name of the palatial estate, and it’s just a jaunt from London, home to one of Europe’s best affineurs, Neal’s Yard Dairy. Should you decide to holiday in Hampshire, make sure you pop into Neal’s Yard for a whiff and a nibble. Lord Grantham would insist.

Secondly, you’ll want to serve some traditional farmhouse West Country Cheddars, which would have been fairly easy to come by in 1912, before the advent of Britain’s agricultural depression in the 1920s and ‘30s. Before World War II, Britain developed a Milk Marketing Board that streamlined industrial cheese production, decimating small cottage industries. Many great cheese recipes were lost, but a few have been revived.

Lady and Lord Grantham lived during a veritable Cheddar heyday, you might say. For a taste of some of these extraordinary cheeses, scout out the following wedges for your next Downton Abbey viewing party:

Mrs. Kirkham’s Tasty Lancashire

A gentle, citrus-bright clothbound cheese made from milling the curds of three days’ milking. The texture has earned it the nickname “floofy monstah.” You’ll understand why. Character: Mrs. Patmore

Ticklemore

This wickedly creamy goat’s milk cheese has a layer of beautiful surface mold and a decadent, fudgy center. It’s a bit naughty and a tiny bit two-faced. Character: Lady Mary

Montgomery’s Cheddar

One of the best loved traditional West Country Cheddars, this is one of three recognized by Slow Food. It’s made by hand by Jamie Montgomery at his farm in Somerset. It’s a cult cheese for anglo-loving Cheddarphiles. Character: Lord Grantham

Keen’s Cheddar

To rival Montgomery’s, a traditional Cheddar that’s earthier and more aggressive. This clothbound beauty is made by George Keen, a legend in cheesemaking. Character: Mr. Carson

Lincolnshire Poacher

This smoldering character is named after a 17^th century ballad. It has Cheddarish traits, but there’s a bit of Gruyere lurking in the background, making it a bit of a split personality. So of course, you can guess which character it best represents. Character: Thomas the Footman

Stichelton

This piquant, ultra traditional version of Stilton is made with raw milk, unlike other Stiltons on the market. It’s very feisty and worth every penny for its craggy, churlish nature. Character: Violet, Dowager Countess of Grantham

For more ideas, pick up a copy of Great British Cheeses , by Jenny Linford (DK, 2008). Downton Abbey, Season 1 is available for streaming on Netflix. Season 2 streams on PBS.

Cheddar Breakfast Bread Pudding

Now that we’re entering fingerless-glove weather, I find myself craving The Hot Breakfast. Usually, I can sneak out the door on a cracker and be fine until I dip into my cheese valise at lunch, but when the wind kicks up, I want a heavy belly when I board the train. I’ll take oatmeal, groats, gruel – but what I really love is breakfast bread pudding.

Once you discover this use for stale baguette, you will dream of this dish in your blackest sleep. I am the sort of person who falls asleep by thinking about future meals, and this is one recipe that I use in place of Ambien – if I think about making this, I fall asleep quickly just so I can get up to eat it.

Breakfast bread pudding is similar to strata, but it’s less eggy and you don’t have to prepare it the night before, though you could. It takes about 30 minutes to bake, which is all the time you need to shower, walk the dog, and pack a lunch.

Although the recipe below calls for sundried tomatoes (I used some that I’d oven-roasted), you can really use any tidbits rattling around in your crisper – leftover roasted veggies, scraps of bacon, some chopped onion. On a whim, I tossed in kielbasa. Boom. Delish. The result is custardy and fluffy with just a little crunch from the toasty bits on top.

~

Cheddar Breakfast Bread Pudding

Serves: 2

4 eggs

1 cup whole milk 

2/3 cup cheddar, cubed or grated (I used Quickes Clothbound Cheddar)

6 thickly sliced baguette rounds, preferably stale

½ cup cherry tomatoes, halved; or sun-dried

½ cup kielbasa, bacon, or chopped ham (optional)

Fresh herbs, such as basil or chives

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease two oven-proof ramekins with a pat of butter or a little oil. You can skip this step, but the ramekins will be a little tough to clean.

2. Cube or shred baguette rounds, and divide them between the two ramekins. Tuck cheese, tomatoes, and kielbasa into the bread, leaving plenty of crannies.

3. Mix together eggs and milk in a tall measuring cup, then pour over the bread mixture in each ramekin.

4. Fill a casserole pan half full of water, then set the ramekins into this cozy water bath. Pop the whole thing into the oven, and bake for 30 minutes, or until a fork comes out clean and the puddings are nicely browned. Top with fresh herbs. Devour.

Bread Puddings are baked in a water bath. Easy peezy.

Note: These are best right out of the oven. If you're making these for yourself, store the extra one -- unbaked -- in your fridge, and bake it up fresh the next morning.

CHEDDx: The First TED Cheese Tasting?

This week I’m gearing up for a special moment – I’m hosting an interactive cheese tasting as part of TEDxSJU, an event that takes place this Thursday on the campus of Saint Joseph’s University in Philadelphia.

You’re probably familiar with TED – it’s a series of livestreamed talks by speakers and thinkers from all over the world. I’ve watched many TED talks (I'm riveted by Paul Stamets' mushroom talk), but I’ve never seen anyone host a TED tasting.

That’s why I’m presenting CHEDD-X, a talk about cheese and social media, accompanied by a tasting of traditional British cheddar for 150+ students.

Why? Well, here in Philadelphia, most students think of cheddar cheese as the Whiz that goes on cheesesteaks. I want them to experience what cheddar tasted like in its earliest incarnation – the cheddar of their ancestors.

Photo courtesy of Mary Quicke

Mary Quicke produces a traditional English cheddar that I happen to love, and she is a social media phenom. She writes a fantastic blog, Mary’s Diary, where she provides monthly updates about her farm in Devon -- from the changing crops in her fields to new calves in the barn.

She’s also on Twitter (@Maryquicke), and her tweets are as charming as Mary is in person. Here is a recent crumb:

Just had a beautiful puffball left outside my door by Graham – yum. Lovely braised in butter, + a hint of our smoked cheddar + parsley.

Mary is an example of someone who defies social media stereotypes. She’s not a twentysomething (sorry, Mary) and she doesn’t work for a marketing company as a “strategist.” She works for herself, and through social media she offers us a glimpse into her extraordinary passion for cheesemaking.

Mary Quicke

TED talks are about ideas worth spreading, and while I hate to overwork the obvious pun, I have to tell you that I think Mary’s approach to social media is worth spreading. She’s not simply promoting cheese or her dairy; she shares her story.

In fact, Mary doesn’t ostensibly “promote” at all. She doesn’t offer coupons or gimmicks. She doesn’t push her product. She uses words and images to bring us into her world so that we can’t help but yearn for a nibble of cheese, a whiff of cavey rind.

Mary speaks to our senses. When she shares details, people want to listen, look, taste, inhale. That, to me, is what sets Mary apart. She’s the Basho of the Twitterverse, the Brontë of the blogosphere. 

Who wouldn't want to follow her?

TEDxSJU takes place on Thursday, Oct. 13 from 4-7 p.m. in the Creative Commons at Saint Joseph's University. The public is welcome to attend.

Cabot Clothbound Cheddar

For my Di Bruno Bros. column this week, I write about Cabot Clothbound Cheddar, a beautiful mummy of a cheese from Vermont. It's bandaged in cloth and "larded," then cave-aged -- like an Egyptian pharaoh. Whenever I eat clothbound cheddar, my mind flashes to the mummified cats on display at the Penn Museum. 

Sorry, that's a bit ghoulish, but I do find it fascinating that cheesemakers adopted this method of preservation to create wildly flavorful cheeses. This one smells like the woods and tastes like a thousand things. If you want to read about it and try a little clothbound cheddar tasting (highly advised around Halloween), you'll find all the info over on the Di Bruno Blog, where I post twice a month to earn my cheese allowance.

If you're a cheddar head with lofty aspirations of understanding this tricksy style of cheesemaking, check out The Cheese Chronicles, by Liz Thorpe. She writes beautifully and thoughtfully about cheddar in her chapter on "The Amish: Seeking the Roots of American Cheese" (pp. 90-123). I reread it over a nibble of Cabot Clothbound, and as always I fell under Thorpe's spell. She talks about cheddar the way some people talk about craft beer -- with reverence, pop, and understanding.

If you want more juicy backstory about Cabot Creamery and how Vermont became a cheese mecca, listen to Ann Saxelby's interview with Paul Kindstedt on "Cutting the Curd," a Brooklyn radio show all about cheese. Kinstedt has trained many American cheesemakers and is a sort of Gandalf figure in the American farmstead cheese movement. His take on the Vermont cheese scene is fascinating, and you'll enjoy Ann Saxelby's gently probing Midwestern twang. 

Wedge and Fig

I am not the sort of person who can walk by a cheese shop without going in. That’s what led me through a red door to discover the perfect sandwich: Quickes Cheddar, Marmite, avocado, and watercress pressed into a crusty baguette.

At Wedge and Fig, a new cheese shop and cafe in Philadelphia's Old City, this is called The Ex-Pat. It could also be called The Diary of Mary Quicke, after the British cheesemaker who makes this gorgeous clothbound cheese on her family's 450-year-old farm and blogs about it.

At Wedge and Fig, the cheese sandwich has been redazzled. Consider The Blue Fig, a shmear of Fourme D’Ambert with fig spread and prosciutto on pretzel bread.

Then there’s The Betty Draper – truffled egg salad (no cheese) and coins of thinly shaved cuke, served with a side of candy cigarettes.

Wedge and Fig impresses me as the sort of shop that mixes all the right vibes: it’s a little bit Left Bank -- think artists, streams of sunlight, a cafe garden bordered by fire escapes -- and a little bit lipstick. You’re just as likely to see a shop girl carrying a dog in her purse as you are to see a hipster with a drawing tablet.

The staff knows and loves its cheese. The front case keeps clear of deli ruckus – thank gawd – to keep the focus on interesting beauties: from gooey Pont l'Eveque to my favorite toasty Gouda, Old Amsterdam. A wildly large wedge of Quickes Cheddar lives front and center.

To encourage cheese and lounging, the café stays open late on Fridays and Saturdays (until 8 p.m.) to serve custom cheese boards. Bring in a bottle of wine, and you can have a cheese plate made to match. It's served on a slate with chalk-drawn arrows to show you the order in which to eat each selection.

Desserts made by Rebecca Torpie (above, right), formerly of Flying Monkey Bakery, should not be skipped, in particular her tuffet of goat cheesecake topped with caramel. And don't forget to check out the back garden -- down a dark alley just to the left of the shop.

Back on My Feet Grilled Cheese

Today, a cheese tribute.

This grilled cheese goes out to a reader named Carly, who emailed me from Back on My Feet, an organization that – in very loose terms – sets up solidarity-based running clubs around homeless shelters.

A number of my friends are part of this movement. They get up before dawn, drive to a city shelter, and run with whoever is waiting on the porch. The idea is to promote self-sufficiency among homeless men, but the group also serves to generate activism around homelessness and recovery.

Since the group formed in Philly back in ‘07 – thanks to a lone runner named Anne Mahlum -- chapters have popped up in other cities. Boston, Dallas, D.C.

If you see someone running in pajamas this weekend or a group of runners who glow in the dark, it’s all part of the group’s fundraising relays. All weekend long, their 20in24 events will be underway around the Philadelphia Art Museum.

Since Stroehmann’s Bread is the event sponsor, I accepted a loaf and made this sandwich. I wanted to choose an appropriate cheese – something with a little oomph, a wedge with attitude.

I considered Pondhopper, for the name. Then, I thought about cheeses that smell like feet. But that didn’t bode well. After much mulling, I chose a cheese with chutzpah, a spicy puppy called No Woman, from Beecher’s Handmade Cheese in Seattle.

No Woman, named after the Bob Marley song, is a sharp cheddar laced with jerk spices. Add a shmear of sundried tomatoes, and this grilled cheese sandwich is sweet and spicy. Imagine a few reggae beats as you bite in, and you may feel the call to start running.

Cheers to Carly and everyone out at the Back on My Feet relays this weekend.  

Back on My Feet Grilled Cheese

4 slices No Woman, or pepperjack 

Sundried tomato spread

2 slices wheat bread, a la Stroehmann's

1 tsp. olive oil  and 1 tsp. butter, for frying

1. Make a sandwich of sundried tomatoes and sliced cheese.

2. Add olive oil and butter to a hot skillet over medium heat. (The olive oil will keep the butter from burning).

3. Fry up sandwich. You may want to cover it so the cheese melts.

4. Eat. Reflect.

Prairie Breeze

I'm in Iowa this week, listening to the corn rustle. I came for a high-school reunion and a chance to hang with my pops, but the real treat has been discovering local cheese. I grew up on Maytag Blue, a raw-milk zinger from Newton (made by the same family who manufactured your washer and dryer), but I don't remember any other regional cheesemakers. Now, there are a handful, including Milton Creamery, makers of Prairie Breeze.

You can taste the quality milk in this young cheddar -- it's sweet and nutty with a rich, buttery color, a sign of pasture-grazed cows. I like a sharper, more rustic cheddar, personally, but this has a pleasing taste and enough boldness to sidle up to whole-grain mustard and hearty bread. With its sugary notes, this cheese reminds me of sweet corn.

Milton Creamery launched in 2006 by a Pennsylvania Dutch family, the Mussers. Ma and pa moved to Milton, Iowa with their five kids back in 2002, and they recognized the quality of Amish milk. After four years of experimentation, they released their first cheese, using hormone-free milk from their neighbors. This is a pasteurized cheese; Iowa doesn't permit the sale of raw-milk cheese (too bad), except for Maytag Blue, which was grandfathered in.

I look forward to trying more Milton Creamery cheese, especially their new release, Prairie Rose. In the meantime, I've got plenty of corn on the cob to keep me happy and a cheddar that tastes sweetly of Iowa.

Prairie Breeze is available at farmers' markets around Iowa and from the creamery's web site. I bought my hunk at Wheatsfield Co-op in Ames.

Trout-Apple Salad with Horseradish Cheddar

I’m a horseradish junkie. In my last life, my boss grew it in his backyard and every summer he would bring me a jar of his own homegrown horsey – a highlight during each of my five years in the newsroom. It was so fresh and pungent, I spread it on crackers at my desk and fueled myself through whole afternoons of fluorescent listlessness.

LeRaysville Cheese makes a horseradish cheddar that I sometimes dream about when I’m stuck doing some pooh-blah thing at work. Yesterday, I was typing up some minutes, and I had a horseradish brainstorm: trout…apples…fennel…yes….and horseradish cheddar. I think I actually released endorphins just thinking about it, because I breezed through those minutes and was on a train home in no time, reaching for the cheese knife before I had even set down my bag.

The beauty of this salad is that it takes deux minutes to throw together, and it looks fancy. It’s also a miraculous balance of salty, sweet, zesty-sour and crispy, which means, well, that it’s jazz. I put on a little Lionel Hampton, in fact. Horseradish cheddar and vibes, man. It does not get any better than that.

In Philadelphia, you can find LeRaysville Horseradish Cheddar at the Greensgrow Market in Fishtown and at the Fair Food Farmstand in Reading Terminal. It’s a pasteurized whole milk cheese made by the Amish in LeRaysville, outside of Scranton, and would you believe these folks also make Limburger? (Must investigate.)

Elsewhere, you should be able to find horseradish cheddar at the grocery. If not, just choose a medium-sharp white cheddar and add a little extra jarred horseradish.

Trout-Apple Salad with Horseradish Cheddar

(serves 2)

½ apple, chopped

1 filet smoked trout

½ cup fresh fennel

¼ cup horseradish cheddar cheese, cubed

greens

Dressing

3 Tablespoons ranch dressing

1 teaspoon apple-cider vinegar

1 Tablespoon prepared horseradish

Ground pepper

Whip up the dressing, then chop your salad ingredients and arrange them in two bowls. This is the sort of salad where you can be haphazard about measuring – just put in as much of each ingredient as you want, and feel free to add some purple onion. The key is to use plenty of apple so that the saltiness of the fish doesn’t take over. I cheat by using ranch dressing, but you could easily make a homemade horsey dressing using 2 parts mayo to 1 part sour cream. Serve with a glass of rosé.

Note: fresh horseradish is pretty strong -- it looses its sharpness the longer you keep it around, so taste it before you add boat-loads, eh?

Bleu Mont Bandaged Cheddar

If there was a cheese-of-the-woods mushroom, this would be it. Bleu Mont Dairy’s Bandaged Cheddar Reserve tastes like walking through a damp forest in October. It’s gorgeous – a cheddar so woodsy you have to wear a wool sweater to eat it and, if possible, a cap with ear flaps.

Bleu Mont Dairy has an interesting story. I used to buy this cheese from Willi Lehner at the farmer’s market in Madison, Wisconsin, and I never knew his cheese-making operation was solar and wind-powered. Or that he had a straw-bale aging cave. Uhm, I want to live there. It sounds like one big Michael Pollan fantastique.

I took this cheese to a writers’ group last weekend, and my friend Ellie said, “Whoa, this is adult cheese. I don’t think I’ve eaten a cheese like this before.”

Bleu Mont’s Bandaged Cheddar is…how shall I put this...for mature audiences, much like Lars von Trier’s latest -- which is worth seeing if you like talking taxidermy. I do. If you want to host a cheese-cap after the movie, this would be an ideal centerpiece. I mean, it is bandaged.

Break out the hard cider – Strongbow pairs nicely – then put on some theremin records. This curiously gamey and strikingly elegant raw-milk cheese will have you dreaming of dark branches, wet wind, and talking foxes.