My husband and I spent three weeks in Corsica a few years ago (do it!), and our visit happened to coincide with a two-day cheese fair celebating the island’s shepherds. We ate a lot of rustic and wonderful sheep cheese and I met at length with Catherine Le Beschu, then the director of an organization that was trying to protect these vanishing cheeses. She told me, to my surprise, that Corsicans don’t eat the herb-coated sheep cheese that is the island’s most famous export. Fleur du Maquis (pictured above) and Brin d’Amour—so similar they’re often mistaken for each other—are insanely delicious so I don’t get why Corsicans disdain them.
Le Beschu’s understanding of Brin d’Amour (“sprig of love”) is that it was dreamed up in the 1950s by a Parisian distributor. The cheese was made in Corsica but shipped to Rungis, the wholesale market in Paris, for sale to shops everywhere except, apparently, in Corsica. The islanders prefer their sheep cheese plain, Le Beschu told me. She said that the first time she ever saw Brin d’Amour was at Rungis.
This story makes sense given that Brin d’Amour is a registered trademark, owned by a large import-export firm near Paris. A creamery in Corsica makes the cheese under contract. According to the trademark, Brin d’Amour is a raw-milk sheep cheese matured for a minimum of a month and weighing about 700 grams (roughly 1-1/2 pounds). The seasonings on the outside—rosemary, fennel, savory, juniper berries and a red chile—are meant to reflect what grows wild on rugged Corsican hillsides, the maquis.
Hiking the shepherds’ trail: I’m fifth from left/Photo D. Fletcher
Success spawns imitators, right? Fleur du Maquis, produced by the well-regarded Corsican firm Ottavi, is made with pasteurized milk but in almost every other respect it is Brin d’Amour’s twin. I find it irresistible—a thick, handsome wheel dusted with gray mold and cloaked in dried herbs, with a moist, semisoft paste that conveys the scent of those Corsican mountains on a warm day. (We hiked a shepherds’ trail with a guide.) I love how the savory herb coating infuses the interior, as happy a marriage as rosemary on a lamb chop. But what most appeals to me about this cheese is its texture. Because the wheel is never presssed, the interior is open and tender. A slice literally melts on your tongue. I don’t eat the rind—it’s a bit too twiggy—but I lose all self control with the rest.
According to Stephanie Ciano of World’s Best Cheese, a major U.S. importer and distributor, you won’t (or shouldn’t) find Brin d’Amour in the U.S. As a raw milk cheese aged less than 60 days, it is not legal for sale here. Fleur du Maquis and Saveur du Maquis (from yet another Corsican producer) are pasteurized versions that comply with U.S. regulations.
With spring underway, I’m reminded of the Italian custom of eating sheep cheese with fresh fava beans. A wedge of Fleur du Maquis, some young fava beans and a glass of Vermentino or Fiano di Avellino is the spring antipasto of my dreams.
Look for Fleur du Maquis at these retailers