Emily In France Exclusive 🇫🇷 5 Winter Cheeses to Fight the Gloom

From the desk of an expat.

I'd wager most of the food-focused newsletters hitting your inbox right about now are all about the roughage. And while I’m a firm fan of any and all things vegetal (and I definitely ate enough Crémont and Harbison this Christmas to ensure I've hit my calcium quotient for the year), I can think of nothing more depressing than a New Year’s resolution that doesn't include cheese. Especially when there are so many delightful winter specimens to add warmth to this dreary time of year.

The song doesn't lie: Paris in the winter is indeed drizzly. To contend with the chill, I often rely on cheese-fueled recipes like fondue and raclette. Though technically termed après-ski dishes, given the way in which they restore the intrepid skiers carving their way down snowy mountainsides, these cooked cheese delicacies are just as delightful even if you're not wintering in the mountains.

But hot cheese isn't the only way to stoke the fires of your heart this winter. Certain cheeses made at the peak of summer have been patiently waiting in the wings, coaxed by expert affineurs to be at the peak of perfection in January and February. And a few novel creations are more than ready for their time to shine on your cheese board.

Let’s get into it.

Raclette

I've seen raclette everywhere of late, from sandwiches to hasselback potatoes. But the most traditional way to enjoy this cheese is evoked in its very name: by scraping it – racler, in French.

Raclette is the name of both a cheese and a dish. The former a is a Savoyard specialty hailing from the Alps, where it's traditionally made with raw cow's milk that's lightly washed to promote a nutty, funky flavor.

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The semisoft cheese is certainly tasty plain, but it really comes into its own when it’s cooked. Traditionally, this is done by affixing a portion of a wheel of the cheese onto a heating apparatus, so that the melted layer can be scraped onto a mountain of steamed or boiled potatoes, charcuterie, and copious cornichons.

That said, in most French home kitchens, you’ll find raclette prepared on a different apparatus. This tabletop appliance built around what is essentially an electric broiler comes with a small frying pan for each diner, into which you place a slice of the cheese. Slip it into the machine and wait until it’s melted. The top of the machine sometimes doubles as a grill for the accompanying charcuterie – or to keep your potatoes warm.

While it’s tough to beat plain raclette, in recent years, I've seen a phenomenal rise in flavored varieties, studded with everything from black pepper to mustard seeds and laced with flavors like spring garlic or truffle. You’ll even find some mongers encouraging other, similarly-textured cheeses like Bleu du Vercors or Morbier in place of – or in addition to – the offering of classic raclette.

When I interviewed François Paccard for a recent story about Bleu de Termignon, he shared he was unconvinced by such deviations from tradition. But I have to say, I quite like having so much diversity on the table, which is why one of my favorite places to go for raclette in Paris is Monbleu. This cheesemonger doubles as a cheese-focused restaurant, and the raclette is just as incredible as you’d expect. No fewer than ten different varieties were on offer on my last visit, served with the diner’s choice of charcuterie or seasonal vegetables.

Mont d’Or

Yet another specialty from the Franco-Swiss border, this time in the Jura, Mont d’Or is a washed-rind cheese that’s traditionally wrapped in spruce cambium. This thin layer of wood just below the tree’s bark serves two purposes: It provides structure for the custardy cheese, acting as a corset of sorts, and it also imparts a lovely, woodsy aroma, making the finished cheese all the more delicious.

The nomenclature of the world of Mont d'Or is a bit complex. The cheese known either as Vacherin du Haut-Doubs or Mont d'Or is made on the French side of the border, while in Switzerland, it’s called Vacherin Mont d'Or or simply Vacherin. On either side of the border, you’ll also find the cheese made in two formats: the small one above, which is purchased whole, and a larger format typically sold by weight.

Especially when it comes to smaller Mont d’Ors, this is a cheese that’s most traditionally served hot. My favorite recipe involves piercing the cheese with a paring knife and inserting slivers of garlic before dousing the cheese in a bit of Savoyard white wine. While it bakes, I steam or roast not just the traditional potatoes but also carrots, Brussels sprouts, and mushrooms, all of which are very happy when bathed in a drizzle of the hot-out-of-the-oven cheese.

If you can't find Mont d’Or in the U.S., Jasper Hill’s Harbison is an excellent substitute!