Tag Archives: semi-hard cheese

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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Wild Garlic Yarg

I chose this cheese as in the space of a week two fellow cheese-fans raved about it and posted photos. I’d tried original Yarg cheese before but not this variation. I bought it from a local market next to a river; as South London goes, it’s about as rural as it gets and the kind of leafy damp place I imagine wild garlic might have grown in the past, before the rusty shopping trolleys squashed it all.
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Fowlers Sage Derby

There’s something of the déjà vu about Sage Derby. I feel nostalgic for it, it reminds me of my childhood but I haven’t the foggiest idea why. I never remember eating it or seeing it in the house. I grew up in the next door county so perhaps it was always on the supermarket shelves (I was going to say pub menus but in those days it was all chicken-in-a-basket and a piece of Stilton on the cheeseboard would have been the talk of the town.) So, I don’t know why I think I know Sage Derby. Mum, if you’re reading this (and sometimes I fear it’s only my Mum reading), let me know if we ever ate Sage Derby.
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Alham Wood Junas

Mention British farm animals to most people and they’ll conjure up an image of green fields trimmed with hedgerows, black and white cows grazing the grass and chewing the cud. Or maybe fluffy sheep cropping the sparse vegetation on a mountainside. At a push, perhaps some cheeky goats in their perennial eating-the-washing-line stance. What they probably won’t come up with is a herd of black water buffalo, great horns curling over their horizontal ears. But that’s exactly where this week’s cheese comes from. And the buffalo aren’t paddling in the floodplains of Pakistan or India; they’re grazing the pastures of Somerset.
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