Tag Archives: rind-washing

Radicchio and Durrus Risotto

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I’m sure you have all been on the edge of your seats, waiting to hear of my progress up the allotment waiting list. Well, big news here, I have a plot! I’ve been pretty lucky to inherit a patch that’s been well-cared for until recently, compared to some of the weed forests that are also up for grabs. In fact I’ve been pretty lucky full-stop, considering that I live in London where some waiting lists are 40 years long and people even put their children down to secure an allotment for their future middle age!

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A Visit to Caws Teifi

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I was a bit nervous as I drove down the winding lanes that lead to Glynhynod Farm in Ceredigion, West Wales. John Savage-Onstwedder, the maker of Teifi cheese (in Welsh: Caws Teifi, the former to rhyme with ‘mouse’ and the latter pronounced ‘Tie-vee’) is known as ‘the Godfather of Welsh artisan cheese’ and makes the most highly-awarded cow’s milk cheese in Britain. He’s cheese royalty, if you like.

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The Duke and Duchess

This week’s cheeses (yes, it’s a rare double-bill this week!) have had me thinking about what sort of cheese I’d like to be immortalised as. It’s a tricky one. Much as I adore blue cheese, its main characteristics are mould and stinkiness, which I’m not sure I’d like to be summed up by. Ditto smear-ripened cheese which is a bit of a smelly joke. Perhaps a farmhouse cheddar? But then that just brings up words like ‘earthy’ and ‘robust’ which would make me sound like a used tractor. Hmmmm… Anyway, republicans look away as this week I bring you The Duke and Duchess:

duke of cambridge cheese duchess of cambridge cheese
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Celtic Promise

One of the lovely things about writing about British produce is that you get to learn about new areas of the British Isles which sound rather appealing. And so it is that we’ll be spending half the Easter holidays in west Wales, partly because it sounds like a peaceful idyll full of pristine beaches and rivers packed with jumping fish and partly because it’s been described as ‘the Loire of Welsh cheesemaking’. And whereas some cheesemakers (somewhat understandably) say on their website ‘don’t come and visit us, we’re too busy making cheese’, these Welsh cheesemakers are all like: ‘Please come and visit us – we’d love to see you!’ and ‘Drop by, see us in action and taste our cheese!’ Well, don’t mind if I do…but first this week’s suitably Welsh cheese:

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Potato, Celeriac, Pear and Nuns of Caen Bake

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You know you’re advancing in years when a) you get excited by the thought of buying a mandolin (the chopping, not the Captain Corelli variety) and b) you then get enraged because it turns out it doesn’t slice thinly enough for your liking. So, all ideas of conning my children by making vegetable crisps out of the window, I was left pondering what to do with my new toy so that I didn’t hurl it against a wall. As fate would have it, I was also pondering what to do with the remains of last week’s Nuns of Caen that the kinds folks at The Cheese Market had given to me in abundance. This recipe is therefore the coming together of some too-thickly-sliced vegetables, a luscious cheese washed in perry and – it only seemed fitting – some pears. It was eaten with pork chops, also cooked in perry with shallots and sage.
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Nuns of Caen

As part of last Friday’s goat’s cheese paean in honour of Chinese New Year I promised you a ewe’s milk cheese to redress the balance for those who thought we were now entering the Year of the Sheep instead. And, as fate would have it, the lovely folks at online artisan cheese emporium The Cheese Market very kindly sent me a very delicious example of the type indeed. So here, in all its gooey orange loveliness, is Nuns of Caen:

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Golden Cenarth Sorta-Tartiflette

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I am increasingly loathe to post any variation on a traditional recipe for fear of igniting national indignation à la Jamie and his Jollof rice. Admittedly, my readership is somewhat smaller than Mr Oliver’s but nevertheless I learned my lesson with the whole ‘your Bajan Macaroni Pie looks like thrush’ blogpost episode. However, Tartiflette – a French cheese, bacon and potato combination – sounded like such a divine way to put on half a stone in one sitting that I decided to throw caution to the wind and experiment using a British cheese. I then found out that Tartiflette was actually invented in the 1980s to drum up sales of reblochon cheese and so it felt much less like cultural plunder then anyway.

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St James

With some cheeses, their reputation precedes them. These are the cheeses that crop up at tastings, the cheeses that hard-core cheese addicts tell you that you have to try, the cheeses that sound a bit maverick and even, dare I say it, sometimes a bit alarming. And so it was with this week’s cheese. Every time I put out a plaintive call for inspiration on Twitter, someone would come back, telling me to try St James. So I tried to but then discovered that it’s a seasonal cheese and it wasn’t available. Then I tried again but realised I needed to make a trip to central London to track it down. It was becoming the stuff of legend. Finally I found it in Neal’s Yard Dairy and captured it, to see if it lived up to the hype:

St James cheese
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Eve

It’s fair to say that this cheese has led me a right old dance this week. I saw it in a cheesemongers and was immediately taken by the look of it, its very French-looking livery yet its British origins. Into the basket it went along with a couple of others and I went on my way. It was when I was on the train home that I realised I couldn’t remember the name of it and the receipt inside the bag was no help to me. ‘But that’s okay,’ thought I. ‘I remember that it’s from Somerset and how many cheeses can there be from Somerset that are soaked in cider brandy and wrapped in vine leaves?’ Two, it turns out. Oh. B*gger. But, look, you can see why I fell for it, can’t you? Ooh là là.

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Rachel

It’s fair to say that cheese isn’t the first foodstuff that springs to mind when you think about romance. But actually there’s a historical precedent for cheese romance as the milkmaids of yore with their creamy (smallpox-free) complexions, impeccable personal hygiene and impressive biceps were the most sought-after of country companions. These days cheese has somewhat lost its allure d’amour but nevertheless, on this pinkest and fluffiest of days, I was determined to bring you a cheesy cheese story.

And here she is, ivory-white and lovely – Rachel:

Rachel goat's cheese White Lake
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