Cheese & Sweet of the Week: Laguoile & Paley's Place Fruit & Nut Bar

Upon breaking open a cylinder of Laguoile (lah-YOLE), one is overcome by what I like to describe as the scent of the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland. If you haven't had the pleasure of experiencing (or smelling) this attraction, what I'm referring to is the odor of a heavily water-damaged basement. Or, what is probably more accurate, a dark, damp cave. This delicious raw cow's milk cheese is made in the southern part of France, just under the Cantal Mountains (home of Cantal, another tasty cheese). Named after two small towns located in the region - Laguoile and Laguoile-Aubrac - it carries similar characteristics to its neighboring Cantal: firm and a bit chalky with a sharp, tangy bite. Yet Laguoile is aged longer, developing a straw colored paste and thick, crusty brown rind that smells exactly how it looks. But do not be deceived by its appearance or pungent aroma, because the flavor is phenomenal. The texture is crumbly, but smooth and creamy on the palate. It has a cheddary sharpness with strong earthy notes of mushrooms. In fact, as you get closer to the rind, the flavor is reminiscent of a slowly simmered brown mushroom stock. Yummy!

As for my sweet of choice this week, Paley's Place Bistro & Bar in Portland, Oregon created a delectable Fruit & Nut Bar to accompany their restaurant's cheese selection. Made by hand in 5-pound slabs, this sweet treat is like a panforte, but without any flour, spices, or added sugar. The simplicity of the variety of ingredients is what makes it so desirable - dried figs, apricots, raisins, cranberries, blueberries, hazelnuts and almonds all bound together with honey. It's rich and dense without being fatty or sickly sweet. And the crunchiness from the nuts adds an extra layer of texture to the pressed combination of moist, chewy fruit. This really is the perfect addition to any cheese plate.

The Mysteries of Mold Revealed!

We've all experienced it - a piece of forgotten cheese in the fridge has somehow been colonized by a band of fuzzy whitish, greenish, bluish spores. Our first reaction to this discovery is "Eww!" followed by gingerly removing the colorful wedge from the back of the cheese drawer and chucking it into the garbage. While mold on food is certainly a sign for non-consumption, such is not the case for cheese...for the most part. The problem is you're dealing with milk that is already spoiled, albeit in a controlled environment. And you're dealing with many cheeses that come with their own mold.

Unfortunately, there are no set black and white rules for what constitutes bad moldy cheese; at least I have yet to find any. I've spoken to cheese makers and mongers, researched the world wide web and read ancient texts called "books" about the matter. In my explorations of the cheese world, this is my take on moldy cheese: It depends on the cheese. I know that doesn't help much, but like mushrooms, you have to know if that particular mold has spoiled that particular cheese in a way that will spoil your insides.

Nonetheless, here are some guidelines to follow when you encounter mold on your cheese, whether it's in your fridge or at your local cheese shop:

1) White, blue and green mold is GOOD. It's the same mold you find on brie type cheeses or blue cheese. You can can cut it off or eat it...the choice is yours. Red, pink, yellow and black mold is BAD. If any of these colors appear on your cheese, promptly discard it.

2) Fresh cheeses such as ricotta, cream cheese, quark, creme fraiche, mozzarella, etc., should never have mold of any sort. Spoiled fresh cheese will usually develop a pinkish orange film, but these cheeses will typically go sour before mold forms.

3) The nose knows. When in doubt, give it a big whiff. But it helps to know what you're smelling. Refer to my earlier post, Bad Smell vs. Bad Bad Smell. Ammonia and vinegar are BAD cheese smells. Stinky feet smell, however, may be the greeting of a truly delicious cheese!

A Stylish New Meaning to "Sucker"

Last week I visited Las Vegas for the first time - a desert snow globe of excitement where the Seven Deadly Sins are properly encouraged, and there is no such thing as enough neon lighting. While it's not in me to be gluttonous, it was certainly tempting with all the luscious sugary treats displayed 'round every corner. Massive assorted cupcakes topped with mounds of fudgy chocolate or rich buttercream. Ruby red candied apples glistening next to their chocolate caramel-pecan-marshmallow-toffee crunch nut counterparts. Caramel popcorn, chocolate mint malt balls, red velvet cupcakes, dark chocolate spring rolls - there is no end to the sweetness of Sin City, nor a limit to the ridiculousness of its price tag.

Our indulgent delight one evening occurred in the Sugar Factory Chocolate Lounge - a trio of chocolate fondues - dark, milk and white - with different dipping selections - lemon pound cake, red velvet cake, fudge brownie, strawberries, bananas, marshmallows, gummy bears and white chocolate bread. At $30, this chocolatey pleasure (along with a Red Velvet Martini) was well worth it. However, we did pass up the opportunity to completely splurge. For a mere $1000 you can experience "Chocolate Gold", which includes a number of gilded treats as well as a bottle of Dom Perignon and a glass of Hardy d'Or 50 Year Cognac.

Sugar Factory Chocolate Lounge Menu

But the $1000 golden fondue orgy was not the most monetarily ridiculous sweet I found at the Sugar Factory. In fact, the $12,000 Herve Leger dress I had tried on earlier would be financially plausible if my bank account could afford such a thing. You see, the Sugar Factory is home to the Couture Lollipop...a delectable globe of artificially flavored sweetness atop a sparkly rhinestone handle. At first I thought, "How darling! So sparkly and shiny and full of girly happiness! I must buy one!" I picked out a pinkish stick and made a beeline to the cashier. The following dialogue ensued:

Cashier: "How are you doing tonight?"

Me: "Very well, thank you. How are you?"

Cashier: "Very good. Will this be it?"

Me: "Yup."

Cashier: "That'll be $26.93."

Me: "20 bucks for a lollipop?!"

Cashier: "25 dollars plus tax, actually."

Me: "Screw that...25 dollars for a fucking lollipop..."

Cashier: "Yeah...I know."

It's not that the rhinestone pop is unaffordable, it's the fact that it's a glorified Tootsie Roll Pop on a mini stripper pole, most likely manufactured in China for 5 cents...okay maybe 10. At least the $12,000 evening dress doesn't disappear after you wear it. While the lollipop holder is refillable and serves as a super cute fashion accessory, it's the principle of the pop. If I need sparkly lollipops to match every outfit in my wardrobe, I'll invest in a bag of Dum-Dums and a Bedazzler.

Bad Smell vs. Bad Bad Smell

A few days ago I was asked to replace my display of 5-Year Aged Gouda with a cheese that wasn't so...offensive to the nose. I was a bit taken aback, since I have a number of cheeses that smell far worse than an ol' aged gouda. Nonetheless, I removed the odiferous cheese and replaced it with the more socially acceptable Parmigiano Reggiano, thus preventing anymore complaints of "fart smells" in the produce department. I know I'm probably used to the various scents of cheese but my department is surrounded by odors that can be positively vile - rancid green pork from the meat department, decomposing crab shells from the fish department, prepackaged boiled eggs from the deli - I think all of those smell like farts, particularly from someone who has poor digestion. Yet it got me thinking. Some cheeses do smell bad, but that doesn't mean they ARE bad. So what is the difference between bad smell and bad bad smell?

The difference starts with the type of cheese. Like mushrooms, you really don't know a bad one unless you've educated yourself on its characteristics. However, a cheese gone bad isn't necessarily going to kill you. The main culprit behind the cheese stink is the washed rind category. Washed rind cheeses are repeatedly bathed in a brine during the aging process. Some brines include wine, beer or spirits, adding an extra dimension of flavor to the cheese. While the washing protects the inside paste and helps develop a strong, meaty flavor, it cultivates the growth of brevibacterium linens, which is the source of what I call the "rotting feet" smell. Lo and behold, brevibacterium linens is also the cause of human foot odor. Think of raw meat that has sat in the sun too long - it's stinky, but not quite the stink of decomposition. Tallegio, Pont L'Eveque, Limburger, Red Hawk, and real Muenster (not that American crap with the orange coloring) are all stinky but deliciously buttery.

Other cheeses have a moldy fish smell. The Basque Ossau Iraty or Italian Fontina Val D'Aosta both come to mind - their rinds smell like dirt and shrimp shells but they taste nutty, meaty and slightly sweet. Blues like Roquefort and St. Agur smell earthy and sour. Aged goudas smell of butterscotch and beef, sometimes with an after-scent of red wine. Bloomy white mold bries and triple creams smell of earth, mushrooms and sweet butter. Like I said, to know the right smell is to know the cheese that's emitting it.

So what is bad bad smell? Ammonia. Really - that's just it. The chemical odor that burns the nose and makes your face scrunch. When you smell ammonia, your cheese isn't aged - it's rotten.

Cheese N' Sweet of the Week: Robiola Bosina & Ines Rosales Olive Oil Tortas

This morning, being a Monday morning, I was thinking about how I could make it somewhat enjoyable rather than a reminder of how far one is from the weekend. And the Cheese N' Sweet of the Week was born! Robiola Bosina - a cow and sheep's milk combination from the Piemonte region of Italy (a bit west of Milan) - I felt would be a perfect breakfast cheese. This 4-inch square of smooth ivory paste is scattered with pinholes and encased in a thin, bloomy white rind. The scent is that of fresh milk, with a hint of earth and mushrooms, but being that this piece was rather young (I received this shipment last Thursday), it wasn't all that pungent. It's buttery and slightly salty with a slight tang from the sheep's milk, but all together, rather mild.

Now, normally I won't be pairing a Sweet with the Cheese of the Week, but for some reason I felt the Robiola Bosina would complement the Ines Rosales Olive Oil Tortas, although I was doubtful. These tortas from Spain are made up of flour, extra virgin olive oil, sugar, baking powder, sesame and anise seeds, salt and natural anise essence. Each delicate disc is individually wrapped in light wax paper, keeping them fresh and crisp. They're crunchy and flakey with a sparkling, sugary top, but their sweet saltiness melts in your mouth and you can taste that slight perfume of anise at the end.

Together, the Robiola Bosina and Olive Oil Torta are amazing. It's a sublime breakfast - sweet, salty, creamy, crunchy...it actually tastes like a mocha. I was thoroughly impressed and delighted with my experiment.

However, and this is a pretty big however, if you have Robiola Bosina that has been allowed to ripen for a couple weeks, the combination with the torta is not a favorable one. A ripened Robiola Bosina develops a soft, very pale yellow rind and a stronger mushroom smell. It's much creamier, like softened butter, and yields a nutty, tangy sheep flavor with a bit more salt. At this stage, it's best to pair this cheese with a simple slice of baguette or plain cracker.

Hello, and Welcome...

This is my first blog and my first installment of Cheese N' Sweets - a blog dedicated to the foundation of what has become my career...the management of fermented milk products and promoting of sugar based concoctions. I finally feel compelled to share my adventures while exploring these two worlds, as I have already discovered many intriguing, wonderful bits of knowledge, know how, and tastyness. Who knew that moldy rye breadcrumbs would create decadent, creamy blue snack? Or that the smell of rotting feet tastes like fresh honey-buttered sourdough bread? What is it about the cupcake - an adolescent treat reserved for classroom birthdays - that has made it so ridiculously hip and fashionable? And why am I so freakishly addicted to rose flavored French macaroons!?!

By no means do I consider myself a cheesemonger or a pastry chef, but I love learning new things from those who are, and passing them along to whoever is willing to listen. So, if you'd like my two cents, or wish to offer your own, welcome! It's going to be delicious...most of the time.