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.

Consider the Cheese Mite, Or What I Learned at ACS

Sister Noella, the Cheese Nun, showing a rind up close

The life of every cheese blogger is full of nibbles and pursuit. Pursuit of knowledge. Pursuit of the next delicious bite. Camping out in Montreal amid scores of cheesemakers and cheesemongers as part of last week’s American Cheese Society conference filled the belly and the brain. I hardly know where to start in describing the myriad delicacies and factoid tidbits.

In a sentence: I am still full.

Here are the unforgettable insights from a 4-day binge on North American cheeses and the men and women who make, sell, coddle, and sniff them.

Cheese Mites

Most aging rooms house cheese mites – tiny, near-miniscule creatures that feast on the rinds of hard cheeses especially. In a presentation by the cheese nun, we saw them munching like calves on grass, under a microscope.  If you have a cheese mite problem, consider getting an ozone machine. One gentleman who shall remain unnamed found that this sterilized the mites and prevented them from reproducing.

Scouitch!

This is the French way of pronouncing what cheese curds do when you eat them.

Naming Cheese

Following hipster trends, popular cheese names are derived from fowl. Gray Owl. Birdville Reserve. Hummingbird.

The Blue Cheese Revival

More blue cheese is made in America than in France, the birthplace of Roquefort. So says Will Studd, a man who held a public funeral for Roquefort in Australia when the country banned raw-milk cheese.

Beecher’s Secret

The reason Beecher’s clothbound cheddar tastes so freaking good, my luvs? The wheels are rubbed down with melted better. I also learned why Beecher’s never uses the word “cheddar” in their packaging: the recipe contains cultures also used in Gruyere and Ementaler. It’s a beautiful, butter-lathered hybrid.

Quebec Cheese

No surprise, this French-speaking region produces 350 varieties of cheese and is the original home to the first dairy school in North America (founded in 1889). I sampled a gorgeous cheese plate at Accords Wine Bar in Old Montreal where the cheeses were served so beautifully. Voila! My favorite was Riopelle.

The Life of the Tongue

Did you know that you are born with 10,000 tastebuds? By old age, you only have 4,000 left. I learned this at a flavor session with Christine Chénard, a taste specialist from Cintech. 

Trigeminal Sensations

Flavor is a combination of taste and aroma, but taste itself relates to touch and temperature. Trigeminal sensations are broken down into the following categories:

            Astringency (think green bananas)

            Piquancy (radishes, chilis)

            Metallic (canned pineapple juice)

            Cooling (mint, anise)

Raw Milk Reactions

Will Studd predicts a raw-milk ban for the U.S. similar to the one Australia and New Zealand adopted in 1996 (N.Z. reversed it eventually). Ann Colonna, a researcher from Oregon State University, who has been studying the issue shared evidence that 95% of Americans are not in favor the ban, and 60% said they wanted to see the 60-day rule relaxed.  

Rogue River Lovin’

Judges at the American Cheese Society tasted over 1600 cheeses to select a North American grand champion. I’m happy to report it’s one of my faves, too: Rogue River Blue. Got get a wedge before it's gone. It's great with barley wine (try Blithering Idiot from Weyerbacher).

To check out my post about ACS for Di Bruno Bros., please click here. 

Who's Who at ACS?

This week, I’m in dairy paradise. Madame F’s in Montreal, ya’ll, hanging out at Cheese Con, otherwise known as the American Cheese Society (ACS) Conference. 

For the last three years, I’ve dreamed of attending North America’s greatest cheese party. Now here I am, one of more than 800 cheese geeks, dashing between lectures on starter cultures to tastings of ice wine.

Wondering what kind of crowd shows up at a cheese conference? Here’s an overview.

First, there’s the cheese nun. Sister Noella Marcellino is this year's scholar-in-residence. She meets one on one with cheesemakers to study their rinds and identify lurky bacteria. Yesterday morning she met with Sue Miller, from P.A. to explain some funky specks. The bacteria that Sister pulled up on her computer screen was surprisingly beautiful (like stained glass), but we learned not to get attached – it makes a rind smell like ammonia.

Madame Fromage (left) and Mary Quicke

Then there are cheese judges, like Mary Quicke of Quickes Cheddar. She’s been in Montreal since Monday, sampling upwards of 50 cheeses per day. When the cheese Oscars are announced tomorrow night, she’ll be there, alongside a slew of other super tasters who dictate the future of artisanal cheese.

Andrea White and Scott Linkletter, from Avonlea

This year’s convention has brought out the cheddar heavies. After breakfasting with Mary Quicke, I sat across from the makers of Avonlea, a wonderful clothbound cheddar made on Prince Edward Island. We talked Fiscalini (a great cheddar from California) and looked around the room for the folks from Cabot and Grafton, both from Vermont.

New cheesemakers are on the scene, like this adorable pair from Traderspoint Creamery in Zionsville, Indiana who are here to debut their slow-process, grass-fed cottage cheese. I don’t have a soft spot for cottage cheese, but this stuff is wonderful – like pillows floating in cream.

Farmers are here. Every evening, there’s a “Meet the Cheesemaker” party where milkers and makers set out wheels, and attendees flock around like pigeons, gaping and squawking. Everyone’s sniffing out the funkiest, wildest, most dewy new cheeses – you see guys in Murrays T-shirts wrangling accounts and Whole Foods reps whipping out their biz cards. 

There are also authors. And loads of volunteers. And organizers.

Christine Hyatt, ACS President

Somewhere in the mix, there are a few of us lingering on the industry’s periphery. We’re here to take it in and tweet it out. But mostly, we’re here to nibble and eavesdrop and walk in awe behind some of the most talented dairy professionals in the business.

It’s the trip – and the tasting – of a lifetime.

From Lombardy with Love

My friend Stephanie Patrizio quit her job to spend the summer in Florence, learning Italian. When she told me of her plans, I cheered her on and asked her to send me periodic cheese reports. Below is Stephanie’s latest cheese adventure. Oh, how I love having a foreign correspondent.

Living in the beautiful city of Florence, one is exposed to some of the most beautiful art and sculpture in the world. The Duomo, the David or the Arno at sunset would take anyone’s breath away. But for me, the most exhilarating moment was when I walked into a 500-year-old cellar filled with beautiful homemade Italian cheeses, just outside of Bergamo.

My friend, Julia, has been living in the charming town of Villa d’Ogna for about 2 years, although her family has lived there for generations. To get away from the busy streets of Florence, I traveled to Lombardy to visit her.

Julia and I bonded years ago with our love for our Italian heritage and, of course, cheese. So when she told me that she was bringing me to a place she called ‘the cheese vault,’ I was more than a little excited.

The moment I stepped in front of Franco’s house, I knew this was going to be a unique experience.

The cows were relaxing in the shade, the fresh grasses they ate were piled on the doorstep, and when I asked Julia, ‘What do we do now?’ she simply said, ‘We ring the doorbell!’ Her boyfriend, Marco, a man who is the true definition of Bergamasco, came as our translator since Franco’s dialect is so thick. Months of Italian courses couldn’t help us now.

Franco appeared in a window, fresh out of the shower. I expected him to send us away, but this was apparently part of his daily life. He came downstairs and led us to a small wooden door next to the cows.

This is when I really started to get butterflies.

When he opened the door and led us inside, my mouth dropped. A cold breeze hit my face as I stepped into the dark cellar exposing hundreds of wheels of cheese lining the walls. Young cheeses, old cheeses, cheeses made from sheep, cow and goat. Being only a cheese lover rather than a true enthusiast, I suddenly wished I had enough knowledge to know exactly what was in that cellar. There was an enormous scale in the corner, a small working desk surrounded by shelves of cheese (where can I get one of those, West Elm?), and an old gorgeous slicer.

There was too much to look at, and I could tell there was never going to be enough time. This was Franco’s job, not a tourist attraction, so I smiled and hoped the excitement in my eyes would help all the sneaky picture taking.

He cut a fresh wheel and asked me to try a cheese called ‘Formaggio di Monte’ (cheese of the mountain), made by Franco himself only 4 months earlier from the cows who were right outside the door. He sliced a piece the way any proper Italian man slices anything, using the knife to meet his thumb. Its perfectly salty fresh goodness melted in my mouth. All I could get out was a nod. I bought almost a quarter wheel for 5 euro, knowing anywhere else in the world it would be more than double the price. 


Franco became a movie star to me and I became a blubbering idiot in the face of stardom. I’ve known how to say ‘what is your name?’ for years but all I could get out was ‘tu…. chiama….’ I said grazie what felt like 50 times and went back out into the daylight.

It was afterwards, after a feeling of having 4 espresso, I asked Marco for the details.

If this is the cheese vault, then Franco is the cheese keeper. He cares for the cheese for all the makers of the nearby mountains. He cares for them, wipes the mold from them daily, keeps them in the right temperature, and makes and sells his own on the side. He is an old man, with no heirs, so one day when he dies, the cheese vault will die too. Knowing this made my experience even more special, hoping that trades like this will never disappear.

I carried the cheese in my purse all the way back to Florence and placed it in the fridge. The next day I broke off a chunk for my local cheesemonger (any respectful Italian woman has one of those) and asked for advice on pairings. Upon instruction, I let the cheese sit for 2 hours, bought some fresh bread and prosciutto from the market, and waited anxiously.

I always enjoy trying cheese first by itself, to capture each moment of flavor. I suppose the phrase ‘the cheese stands alone’ has a different meaning with a more refined palette. When the cheese was ready, I made a simple plate. It was just as delicious as the moment I tasted it in the vault. It was soft, mild, and milky, and then it kicked you in the tongue at the end. The salty ham for a chaser was more than perfect.

As I enjoyed the rest of my meal, all I could think was, ‘The David ain’t got nothin’ on Formaggio di Monte.’

Check out Stephanie Patrizio's daily photo blog, Sono Stefania.

Tasting Honey by Zip Code

Yesterday, I had my first story in the food section of The Philadelphia Inquirer. This was a proud moment for me. Since I moved to the web (this makes me sound like a spider), I haven't written for newsprint. It was gratifying to run my fingers across real ink again.

My story on Urban Apiaries, a Philadelphia honey company that bottles by neighborhood, came about via cheese. Three weeks ago, I stopped in to peruse the dairy case at Milk & Honey Market in West Philadelphia and ended up spending an hour talking to the owner, Annie Baum-Stein. We'd been keyboard friends but had never met face to face.

"I have a new project that I'm so excited about," she told me, pulling a jar of honey off a shelf. On the lid was a label printed with her zip code -- the honey came from the hive just above us, on her roof. Intrigued, I whipped out my notebook.

Annie's enthusiasm for rooftop beekeeping and her observations about different flavors of honey from around the city were riveting. Later, I muddled over how I would condense our conversation into a blog post. Then it occurred to me: maybe this story was bigger than a post.

As a blogger, it's easy to think that everything happens online. But as a former newspaper editor, I remember the thrill of seeing bales of newsprint arrive on street corners and in coffee shops. Yesterday, that pleasure returned when I walked to the corner kiosk and bought a copy of my very own story -- the first printed story about the city I now call my home.

To read the full story, click here.

Out Takes
One of my favorite shots that didn't make it into the story is this one (below) of Chef Corey Baver in his roof garden above Restaurant Paradiso. The hives aren't visible because they're behind me.



I was amazed to taste honey from three different zip codes. Each one was distinct. If you look closely, you can see that the colors are slightly different.



The honeys were especially good with local cheese. Sean Faeth (below), of Biba, put together a tasting that I attended for this story. My favorite combination was Birchrun Hill's Red Cat with 19148 honey. But of course.



If you live in Philadelphia and haven't visited Annie Baum-Stein at Milk & Honey Market, do yourself a favor. She's on the forefront of food in interesting ways. She also owns Roost, a chiken-and-biscuits delivery service.

Manchego with Figs and Honey

Last week, I rekindled my interest in Manchego, thanks to some grilled figs and a jar of honey. 

A friend served this combination at a party, using fresh figs from her backyard tree. 

Manchego, a subtle Spanish sheep’s milk cheese, was just the right accent, draped over each fig half to form a tiny, briny duvet cover. 

Manchego is a salty lover. Think of seaside air, perspiring brows. This salinity makes Manchego a fine foil for traditional Spanish sides, like quince paste (also known as membrillo) and Marcona almonds, or cracked green olives plugged with lemon peel.

Grilled Figs with Manchego, photo by Amanda Riesman

To continue reading, please visit the Di Bruno Blog.

Full disclosure: This is part of a series I write for Di Bruno Bros. in Philadelphia. The deal is, I choose a cheese and write a post for their blog. This is how I cover the cost of my dairy habit.

Cheese and Social Media

Madame Fromage's iphone

For the last three days, I have been holed up at the Poynter Institute in Florida, studying media trends. I can tell you a lot about Twitter demographics and cool projects at NPR (imagine a Pandora for news), but the question that came to mind as I flew home from Saint Petersburg last night was this:

How has social media affected cheese?

Three years ago when I started blogging, Twitter was still an infant, and the iphone had just been born. Here’s the scene today:

Cheese Apps: Through iphones and ipads, we can access scores of cheese-related apps, from beer-and-wine pairing guides to something called Dairy Ping, which allows users to pick up a jug of milk and locate the farm that produced it, along with sanitation information. Two apps stand out:

Fromage ($2.99) by Steve Welch offers descriptions of 750 cheeses and a function that allows you to keep notes on each one. One drawback: the design is lackluster and there is a lot of scrolling to be done.

Cheese Plate ($2.99) by Chronicle Books is essentially a Janet Fletcher hardcover in app form. The photos are gorgeous, and you can pull up a dozen or so cheese plates by theme, then tap the cheeses to learn more info. Pairing notes, however, are very limited. 

What I’d like to see: regional cheese apps with interactive cheese maps that would guide users to local cheesemakers and cheese counters.

Cheese Tweets: Twitter is alive with cheesemongers, bloggers, and lobbying groups. Here are the folks leading active social media campaigns:

Beecher’s (@BeechersNY, @BeechersSeattle)

Culture Magazine (@culturecheese)

Wisconsin Cheese (@WisconsinCheese)

Blogger Kristen Jackson (@ItsBrieBlog)

Bloggers CheeseandChampagne (@curdwise)

Cheesemonger Tim Gaddis of Star Provisions (@TimTheCheeseMan)

InvestinCheese (@investincheese) delivers daily links and top stories.

What I’d like to see: more news from behind the counter. What cheeses are in stock? What cheeses are in season? Why don’t more cheese counters tweet tasting notes?

~

Feeling lost? Don't panic. Over the next few weeks, I'll try to post more about this phenomenon. Until then, here is your assignment: check out some apps, stalk a monger on Twitter, and let me know if you think social media improves your cheese life. For a quick glimpse of cheese talk on Twitter, check out Trendistic. Surely, we can do better than this!