Tag Archives: pablo cabrito

Eight Cheeses in One Day…

I love my Fromage Friday adventures but have to admit I’ve been getting impatient. There are so many cheeses I’ve heard about and want to try but there are only so many cheese purchases my hips and thighs can tolerate in one week. A tasting at Leadenhall Cheese back in July introduced me to some new cheeses in more pocket-size portions and so when I saw an event advertised at one of my local delicatessens, Cannon and Cannon, I jumped at the chance (and then did a few more star-jumps, just to build up a nice calorie deficit to be filled by cheese).
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Fennel Goat’s Cheese, Tomato and Samphire Tart


I love my local shop but do think they should change their strapline to ‘Let Us Surprise You!’ The surprise being that they have run out of semi-skimmed milk but do have preserved lemons or have no fish whatsoever but shelves full of venison sausages. And so it was that earlier in the week I went in to buy some spring onions and left with a packet of samphire. (And no, I don’t live in some very chi-chi area of London where we all breakfast on crayfish and acai berries, just in case that’s what you’re thinking; I just have a weird, if rather lovely, local shop.)
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Pablo Cabrito

From the name alone you’d be forgiven for thinking that I’m eating a Spanish number this week, maybe also nibbling on some Ibérico ham and washing it all down with a glass of Rioja. But in fact, Pablo Cabrito, a soft unpasteurised goat’s cheese, hails from the sultry climes of Shropshire.

I have a bit of a soft spot for goats. I grew up on a farm but always found sheep a bit dull once they grew past the cute lamb phase. Cows were okay but after a nasty run-in with a herd of post-natal Friesians and a barbed wire fence, they were off the Christmas card list. Goats though have always seemed both full of character and infinitely practical. I used to write about goats for a living so could bore on for several pages about their virtues and even reproduce some rather fetching pictures of me wearing combat trousers and petting a pony-sized Toggenburg…but, hey, onto the cheese.
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