Emily in France 🇫🇷 I Bought 99 Pounds of Cheese
Sisterhood.
This weekend, I fed 50 people 99 pounds of cheese.
But more on that in just a sec.
Sometimes, in my fiction-writing life, I attempt to write only children. It's simpler, I think, to write a character who doesn't have so many other people to contend with: Parents, maybe; a chosen family of friends, sure. But unless siblings are at the forefront of the story, my main characters are often only children.
At first.
Cursed to write what I know, I often find myself, at some point in the story, realizing that maintaining mastery of the intricacies of being an only child is nearly impossible. I am the oldest of four, and with the next-youngest not even two years younger than I am, I do not remember what it was like to not have built-in best friends and confidantes – people who share your history and your memories; who make you question your very sanity; who keep you sane.
Siblings are the people who know you better than you know yourself. With siblings, one is spared the weight of having to explain the context of neuroses and penchants; with siblings, you can speak to in a shorthand of your own creation.
Siblings provide a relief against which you can see yourself more clearly. And in my case, siblings are the people who get on a plane to Paris to help you, when faced with the gargantuan task of crafting a cheese tasting for 50 people.
This is me, picking up the pounds and pounds of cheese lovingly prepared for me by the folks at my favorite cheese shop. What you don't see is my little sister, hanging in the wings, carrying half that cheese, calming my jitters, and ensuring that everyone had a knife... and when the knives ran out, a spoon.
For her, and for my other built-in best friends, I am forever grateful.
Cheese of the Week
Instead of just one cheese, I thought I'd share the five I served up to folks at AUP's Community Weekend on Saturday! Here you have, from bread to bottom, an ashed Rond de Touraine goat cheese from the Loire Valley, a stick of 18-month-old Comté from Franche-Comté, a bit of bloomy Camembert, a runny wedge of stinky Epoisses, and a slice of Roquefort in all its crumbly, salty glory.
Which one would your favorite be?
To discover more of my favorite cheeses, be sure to follow me on Instagram @emily_in_france and tune into the Terroir Podcast, where Caroline Conner and I delve into France's cheese, wine, and more one region at a time.
Where I'm Going
1. To eat even more (!) cheese at the Deck & Donohue beer-and-cheese pairing cruise.
2. To Stohrer, Paris' oldest pastry shop, for éclairs and kougelhopf.
3. To Montmartre, for even more cheese and sunset views.
What I'm Eating
Given the topic of this newsletter, it seems only fitting to feature the spot my little sister took me to for my 30th birthday: Chez l'Ami Jean. She sprung the surprise of their pantagruelesque prix fixe on me, and on a recent return to the restaurant, I was pleasantly surprised to find it had remained resolutely the same in the nearly-five years since our visit. More on the blog.
Discover more of my foodie finds via Instagram @emily_in_france.
What I'm Writing
1. If you're not tired of cheese yet (I'm sure not!) then feast your eyes on this luxe lobster mac and cheese from San Francisco's The Vault – via InsideHook.
2. Pesto is a cupboard fan fave, but did you know that the green stuff from Genoa is just the beginning? I'm debunking saucy myths for Mashed.
3. From the archives: Since the best baguette in Paris was just announced, let's take a trip back in time to when I was speaking to some of the then-recent winners of the illustrious competition for the BBC.
What I'm Reading
1. I realize I'm late to the party on this one, but A Confederacy of Dunces is a farcical romp that actually had me laughing out loud – a rarity, and yet here we are.
2. In addition to being a beautiful poet and novelist, Sylvia Plath kept a pretty in-depth record of her meals, and I'm kind of loving the Twitter account charting her shopping and menu-planning – and this story that pointed me towards it in the first place. In InsideHook.
3. In 1907, French waiters had to go on strike for the right to wear mustaches. Here's why in Atlas Obscura.
A bientôt !