I recently read a genius missive from Madame Fromage about what cheese she would be, were she a cheese. Her answer was beautiful Morbier, for its “rebel streak of ash,” but above all, for its “multi-layered face” which, she says, “mirrors my own lifescape,” one foot in Philly, the other in Europe.
My world looks a lot like Morbier – two layers separated by a pencil-thin line, developed over time and shaped by circumstance.
At the end of her missive, she encouraged readers to ask themselves the same question. I loved the challenge, though, ever the Gemini, I have a hard time zeroing in on just one.
Am I divisive Maroilles, the specialty crafted in my first French port of call, the cold and blustery north? This cheese is a bit of a square and has a slightly off-putting exterior, but if you dare to get to know it, you’ll find it far milder than first appearances would have you believe. (Also, it loves coffee.)
Am I low-maintenance Comté, a cheese that thrives in summer but manages to be just fine all year long? Comté is perhaps the best traveler in the cheese case, coping well with being constricted into small spaces for trans-Atlantic flights and, unlike soft-ripened Brie, managing to keep it together, even when the weather is slightly too warm.
Am I rule-following Salers Tradition, fastidious to a fault? The regulations governing Salers Tradition are so strict only four people in the world make it. Am I as exacting and perfectionistic as this cheese, with its volcanic roots?
Ultimately, I think I must be Mimolette, a cheese originally created out of spite. A fellow northern son, Mimolette boasts a pocked, lunar surface that can be off-putting to some. But this cheese nevertheless has its fans: Of the sheer variety of French cheeses Charles de Gaulle (apocryphally) said made the French so ungovernable, Mimolette was ostensibly nevertheless the former French president’s favorite.
Mimolette is not an inviting cheese, with a robust interior that requires time, effort, and patience to break through. But the interior, while admittedly a bit bitter, is surprisingly bright, nutty, and a little bit sweet.
What cheese are you?
Cheese of the Week
I’m currently in the U.S. catching up with some of my favorite people – and some of my favorite American cheeses. While guests on my food tours in Paris frequently ask me where they can track down the French cheeses we’ve tried Stateside, I usually tell them not to bother. (Here’s why.) Instead, I recommend they take full advantage of the rich bounty of craft American cheeses, like Jasper Hill's Alpine-style Whitney. This cheese is made with raw cow's milk and aged around six months, until it takes on the aroma of toasted nuts. Its melt-in-your-mouth texture is absolutely luscious, and if you're patient with it, each bite evolves to take on a touch of a meaty cured ham vibe laced with rich sour cream.
To discover more of my favorite cheeses, be sure to follow me on Instagram @emily_in_france, subscribe to my YouTube channel, and tune into the Terroir Podcast, where Caroline Conner and I delve into France's cheese, wine, and more one region at a time.
What I’m Eating
Chanteoiseau shouldn't be as good as it is, seeing as it’s located on the picturesque rue Lepic, right in the heart of Montmartre. But while the fine dining plays on French classics here are exquisite, the lunchtime prix fixe totally steals the show. More on the blog.
What I'm Writing
1. Five years after the devastating fire that reduced Notre-Dame de Paris’ spire to ash, rebuilding has nearly finished. The 13th-century “forest” of oak supporting the roof has been replaced with a hand-built replica; the northern tower’s eight bells were restored by one of the country’s only two remaining specialist foundries. And of course, the emblematic spire added by Eugène Viollet-le-Duc in the 19th-century renovation has been entirely rebuilt. The cathedral reopened to the public on December 8, the feast day of the Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary. But this doesn’t necessarily mean business as usual for Paris’ most famous place of worship. For Sherman’s Travel.
2. You might assume there's a run on bread judging by the queue stretching up the cobbled rue des Trois Frères. This one-man sourdough spot is only open three hours a day, Thursday to Sunday—and locals know to get here a half-hour before the ever-grinning baker even opens the doors. For the Infatuation.
3. From the archives: It feels odd to mourn a building, but Notre Dame is more than a building – it’s a symbol of one of the greatest cities in the world. For those of us who have been lucky enough to call Paris home (if only for a short while) and for those who have only visited in their dreams, Notre Dame is the heart of the city. It’s a monument that transcends religion and transcends nationality in order to honor art, culture, and history. For Fodor’s.
What I'm Saying
Paris may no longer be home to medieval fortification walls, but that doesn't stop locals talking about Paris intra and extra muros. The wall, in this case, is the périphérique ring road, which has long been a stopper between the city and its suburbs. But a great plan for expanding Paris outside of these walls into le grand Paris is changing lives, and the very culture of what makes Paris Paris. To explore how and why, I’m joined by Simon Kuper, a Financial Times journalist and author of Impossible City, on Navigating the French.
FAQs
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What I'm Reading
1. Rowan Jacobsen’s passion for American products shines in American Terroir, each chapter of which is devoted to a different ingredient – apples, chocolate, maple syrup, and more – and the artisans crafting it at its very best. From the time-tested traditions governing the capture of Alaska’s Yukon River salmon to the reasons why Puget Sound oysters are the very best in the world, this book is a love letter to the rich bounty of American terroir.
2. This story exploring why French bread baking isn’t nearly as artisan as you’d think. In The Guardian.
3. This exploration of the ways in which becoming more aware of the science of linguistics and language makes writing more intuitive, not less. In LitHub.
A bientôt !