Getting the year off to a promising start, this new cheese makes me hopeful that America’s small dairy farms can find a way forward. We are losing these enterprises at an alarming rate—down 95 percent since the 1970s. Is that trend line irreversible, or are there viable models for young people who want to milk cows and make cheese?
Because my mom was on a diet her entire life, I grew up with cottage cheese. I didn’t dislike it, but I definitely associated it with deprivation. That was then. Today, cottage cheese is a TikTok phenom, with hundreds of millions of views and counting.
What will you be nibbling with your New Year’s bubbly? I’ve got a stash of these flaky cheese straws just waiting for a cork to pop. Aglaia Kremezi, the Greek food writer who inspired them, says they’ll last a week, but nothing beats warm from the oven.
By now the critics have spoken. We know the year’s best movies, books, albums and restaurants. But who will speak for the cheese? I shared my own favorite tastes from the past 12 months in last week’s post. This week, some of the nation’s top mongers weigh in. These front-line folks are going to tell us what their customers flipped over. I also asked them what cheeses in their shop deserve more love than they got. Sometimes even a fabulous cheese fails to find an audience.
I try a lot of new cheeses over the course of a year, and it’s not hard to identify the standouts. They’re the ones I can’t wait to serve to guests in my home and introduce to guests in my classes. I want these cheeses to still be here next year, and the year after, and the year after that. All ten of these lovelies were new to me (but not necessarily new) and help convince me that we live in a Golden Age.
Love them, or love them not so much, truffled cheeses occupy more space than ever at the cheese counter. Obviously they are popular, or creameries wouldn’t make them. From truffled goat cheese to truffled Gouda, there are fungi-scented renditions of virtually every cheese style. Fresh truffles blossom in butter and cream, so it makes sense that the most successful truffled cheeses—in my view—are buttery, creamy types. The luscious new arrival pictured above makes my case. If you’re seeking some bling for a holiday cheese board, look no further than this bloomy beauty.
If the new administration makes good on its tariff threats, there could be pain at the cheese counter. Importers will pay the duties, but they’ll likely try to recoup the expense. They may ask European cheesemakers for price breaks, or pass some of the cost to distributors, who then raise prices to retailers. Ideally, everyone along the supply chain absorbs some of the blow. “To be blunt, when stuff like this happens, you learn pretty fast who believes in partnership and who wants to pass it on to the consumer,” says Adam Moskowitz of Larkin, an important importer of specialty cheese.
The minute the guests are gone and the Thanksgiving dishes are done, my husband starts making another mess. We can’t go to bed until Doug’s turkey stock is on the stove. It bubbles, just barely, all night and is liquid gold by morning, intense and aromatic. You need great stock for Day-After-Thanksgiving Soup…
From the Planet Cheese archives, these six recipes may inspire you to bring something new to the Thanksgiving table. At least that’s my hope. Most are portable, in case you’re a guest. For pre-dinner nibbling, set out a creamy goat cheese dip imbued with fried shallots—an elevated take on the sour-cream classic—or smoky pimento cheese, an unusual recipe from the baker who makes the Obamas’ Thanksgiving pies. For traditionalists, I’ve got the recipe for Zingerman’s famous pimento cheese, courtesy of the beloved Ann Arbor shop.
A debut from Jasper Hill Farm is always newsworthy on Planet Cheese, but this recently launched blue could be a supernova. The Whole Foods monger who alerted me to it called it “lovely to say the least” and cradled the package in her arms like a baby. Even my husband enjoyed it, which, when it comes to blue cheese, is not a bet I ever make. It’s fruity, winey and moist, with an offbeat shape and novel packaging. Everything about this Vermont newcomer screams “holiday cheese boards.”
London’s Metropolitan Police have arrested a suspect in connection with the recent theft of nearly 50,000 pounds of fine British and Welsh cheese. Neal’s Yard Dairy, the esteemed retailer and exporter, reported the disappearance of the hefty wheels of Hafod, Westcombe Cheddar and Pitchfork Cheddar on October 21. The company had already paid the producers, so it faces a loss of about $390,000 even if the wheels are recovered.
Cheese and bread, all toasty, crusty and melty. Who doesn’t love that? I’m surprised that zuppa Gallurese has eluded my radar until now, given that the dish includes my two favorite food groups, and not much else. I watched an elderly Pasta Granny make this Sardinian specialty recently (never miss an episode of that YouTube cooking series) and then immediately started hunting for recipes. In the end, I merged methods from several Italian food authorities--including Lidia Bastianich and Katie Parla —to concoct a zuppa Gallurese with the bread and cheeses I like. Despite the name, the dish is much closer to bread pudding than to soup.
I don’t quite get it, but not everyone loves the same cheeses I do. Those beefy, concentrated alpine cheeses I adore can strike some folks as over the top. “Too much flavor” is one critique I’ve heard but could never imagine saying myself. If you tend to like cheeses that show a bit more restraint, this Swiss beauty may be for you. It’s a little younger than many comparable mountain cheeses, and while I don’t find it remotely lacking in aroma or flavor, it’s not as in-your-face as some.
My husband and I spend way too much money trying to find inexpensive wines we like. Sometimes, after three $15 disappointments, I’ll think, “We could have bought a $45 wine.” Rummaging around for a bargain is often a false economy, and a recent endeavor with Cheddar reinforced this. My objective was to identify a few Cheddars that over-deliver for the price
International Raw Milk Cheese Appreciation Day is Saturday, October 19. But as our former President might say, “So what?” If nothing else, the occasion is a reminder that the freedom to make and sell raw-milk cheese is not guaranteed. This election year, especially, we’re hyper-aware that laws can change and restrict or retract rights we’ve had forever.
I’ve often told others that the best way to find a good cheese is to ask the people behind the counter what they’re loving. The good mongers are sampling all day long and they know what’s in great shape. So when a local cheese merchant all but grabbed my arm recently to steer me to a new arrival she loved, how could I leave without some? And I’m in perfect agreement. This aged American Gouda is a sure-fire pleaser and a no-brainer for autumn cheese plates with apples and pears. For a slam-dunk pairing, open a malty Oktoberfest brew.
People often ask me whether they can freeze cheese. “Sure,” I reply. “But it won’t be the same when it thaws.” Putting cheese in the freezer is almost never a good idea—it alters the texture—although I can think of a couple of exceptions. If you like to stockpile Parmigiano Reggiano rinds for making broth or enhancing a pot of beans, by all means keep your collection in the freezer (although the rinds will also be fine in the fridge). But with the onset of autumn, I’m reminded of a little trick with frozen cheese that I learned from celebrity chef Michael Chiarello.
When I lose cheeses in the back of my fridge, they rarely emerge the better for it. Once or twice, I’ve unintentionally improved an uncut wheel by forgetting I had it, but I generally prefer to leave the aging to the experts. Even they can be surprised by what happens. The Swiss cheese pictured above was a happy accident. Wheels misplaced in the creamery’s cellar and discovered months later had evolved in spectacular fashion. The cheese didn’t get dryer, as one would have expected. It got creamier.
When it comes to Brian Civitello at Mystic Cheese, I’m a fan girl. Civitello is a student of history who finds inspiration in cheeses of the past. He’s a risk taker. But most important, he is exceptionally skilled. Everything I’ve tasted from his Connecticut creamery has been captivating, unusual and memorable, including the newcomer pictured above. It won a blue ribbon at the American Cheese Society competition this year.
My eggplant crop was a runaway success this year—not always the case—and frankly I’m getting a little tired of baba ghanoush. I’ve cooked eggplant with pasta every conceivable way and still I have eggplant. For Labor Day, when normal people were grilling burgers, we grilled eggplant. That’s when I was reminded how much I enjoy this pasta-free riff on cannelloni, which I developed for a Sur La Table cookbook several years ago. Eggplant and tomato are a proven love match; add ricotta and prosciutto to the mix and you hit it out of the park.
Do you recall your first encounter with burrata? I do, and I can’t believe it was only 20 years ago. It seems like this embellished mozzarella has always been with us, surprising and seducing us with its luscious interior. But it’s a relative newcomer, all but unknown in the U.S. until the early 2000s. Now it’s everywhere, a fan favorite on Italian menus from Pasadena to Poughkeepsie. A cheese counter without burrata—why would you do that? Being a minimalist, I’m happy with a plate of toast, a naked ball of burrata and a pepper grinder, but even I enjoy a burrata dressed up on occasion.
Recently I did a presentation on West Coast cheeses for a group of visiting chefs from Asia. After a guided tasting of the dozen cheeses I had selected, they had questions. The only one that stumped me was, “What’s your favorite West Coast creamery?” I didn’t have a ready answer but, in thinking about it afterward, one producer did keep coming to mind for its back story, its values and the consistent high quality of its cheeses. I could never name the favorite among the many worthy creameries on the Left Coast, but Cascadia Creamery is definitely on the short list.
Opting to follow the crowds instead of the guidebooks, my husband and I ended up in a packed working-class lunch spot in Naples a few years ago. After a glance around, we decided to have what everyone else was having: rigatoni in tomato sauce topped with a dollop of snow-white ricotta. Eyeing the other diners, we did what they did, stirring in the fluffy ricotta before diving in. The cheese made the tomato sauce so mellow and creamy. If you’re preparing pasta with tomato sauce in the weeks ahead, please try this technique. If your sauce also has eggplant, zucchini or sweet peppers, so much the better.
After decades of effort by U.S. creameries, “American cheese” is no longer a laugh line. Consumers know that our country produces many exceptional cheeses that rival those from Europe. But these days it’s not always clear what “American cheese” means. If a fresh goat cheese is made in California with imported frozen curd from Spain, is it still American? Is it even, to be perfectly literal, fresh cheese?
Receiving a new sheep cheese wrapped in grape leaves was all the excuse I needed to fire up the Green Egg. But receiving cooking instructions from the cheesemaker made the decision inevitable. “I recommend grilling it for 5 to 6 minutes, until it gives when you pick it up with tongs,” says the maker. “I love grilling peaches with it.”
Just when you think there are no bargains left at the specialty cheese counter, I’ve rounded up eight selections that consistently over-deliver for the price. In my view, these beauties outclass comparable cheeses that cost a lot more. “Value” doesn’t just mean you paid a low price; you can always find inexpensive cheese at the supermarket. Value means you got more than you paid for.
For the first time in its 38 years, the American Cheese Society competition’s Best of Show is Canadian. Not only that, but the runner up is, too. Both winning wheels were made in Quebec, by different creameries, and they topped 1,600 other entries from North America. Fortunately, a Washington State cheese placed third to prevent a Canadian sweep of this prestigious annual judging.
A cheese shop owner told me recently that he now prices his inventory by the half-pound instead of by the pound. The sticker shock was just too much for some customers and hardly anybody buys a pound of cheese anyway. I get it. At least for me cheese is a deductible expense, but I’ve been watching the climbing prices with alarm. Good cheese should be an everyday pleasure, not a pain point. Which is why I was eager to devote a session in my World Cheese Tour series to products that over-deliver for the price. The class is sold out, but pictured above is one of the amazing values I discovered as I researched the best selections for the evening. I’ll share the entire class lineup in next week’s Planet Cheese post, but this highly aromatic little guy will be on the plate. What a bargain!
We made the summer’s first pesto from garden basil last week. Doug and I enjoy pesto year-round from frozen basil (more on that later), but nothing compares to the version made with those first tender, sweet leaves. They get tougher and spicier with summer heat, so the next three or four weeks will be a relentless Pesto Fest around here.
Planet Cheese
Welcome to my world: a fragrant, fascinating universe devoted to great cheese. In this and future Planet Cheese posts, you’ll find profiles of the world’s best cheeses plus insights into everything cheese: shops, recipes, interviews, pairing discoveries, classes, videos, travel. If you haven’t already done so, sign up here - it’s complimentary - and join me in learning something new about cheese every week.
NEW!
2025
World Cheese Tour
Classes
All World Cheese Tour classes are 5:30 p.m. to 7:30 p.m. at Winston’s Café in Napa.
More details and full schedule here.
America wouldn’t have a dairy industry without immigrants. Italians, Dutch, Germans, French, Mexicans, Swiss…they came here with their recipes and expertise, started dairy farms and made the cheeses they knew. Next week, one of these immigrant families—cheesemakers for five generations—is calling it quits, and I’m not the only one grieving.