The difference between good Brie and mediocre Brie is so vast that I tend to avoid the cheese entirely. Let’s face it: the best Brie is in France, where producers can use raw milk. Mediocre Brie is what you find at most supermarkets, made from pasteurized milk and dead on arrival. Why isn’t it more supple? Where’s the aroma? Believe me, with the Brie and Camembert pictured here you won’t be asking those questions. These two cheeses, from the same French creamery, demonstrate the heights possible with pasteurized milk. I would love to pit them side by side against their raw-milk counterparts because I’m convinced they would hold their own.
Read moreThe Magic Touch of Hervé Mons
After years of disappointing encounters, I stopped buying Camembert and Tomme de Savoie. The French Camembert sold in the U.S. always tasted lifeless to me. The Tomme was often stale or cardboardy. My wonderful taste memories from France did not jibe with the sorry specimens I was finding at American cheese counters. But then came Mons. Thanks to French affineur Hervé Mons and his team, we’re getting superb versions of these two classic cheeses, and others as well. In anticipation of Bastille Day, I assembled an all-Mons cheese board. So much deliciousness on one tray! Then I reached out to Fromagerie Mons to see if they could explain his magic touch.
Read moreUltimate Holiday Cheeses
Want to guess which of these beauties was the hands-down favorite in my recent class on holiday cheeses? The top vote-getter didn’t surprise me, although (lovely as it was) I didn’t vote for it. I selected most of these cheeses because they’re only or primarily available now, during the run-up to the holidays; others made the cut because they are party-worthy for other reasons. People expect Cheddar and Stilton on a holiday buffet. Shake things up with one or more of these showstoppers.
Read moreUs Versus Them
Most of the time, I aim to create a balanced cheese board for guests. Something fresh with something aged. A creamy cheese and a firm one. A range of flavors from mild to strong. Cow, goat and sheep. But sometimes I take a page from the wine world. Wine people love comparative tastings. My first date with my winemaker husband was a dinner party and wine tasting, with Pinots from around the world tasted blind. (Nobody nailed them.) A cheese course featuring the same style from two or three different producers can be illuminating, or at least get a conversation going.
Read moreI’d Say They Nailed It
A thin rind, supple interior and captivating aroma are what I look for in Camembert-type cheeses. Oh, and no bitterness, no ammonia and just the right amount of salt. Is that too much to ask? Well, it must not be easy to nail, especially with pasteurized milk. Certainly I’m often disappointed. So when a bloomy-rind cheese hits all those targets—as this one does—I’m eager to talk it up.
Read moreCamembert…in Italy?
Although probably 99 percent of Italy’s water-buffalo milk becomes fresh mozzarella, a few innovators are devising new uses for the rich latte di bufala. Surprisingly, some of these creative creameries are in Piedmont and Lombardy, in northern Italy, far from the mozzarella zone around Naples.
The luscious Camembert di Bufala from La Casera, near Lago Maggiore, exemplifies this trend. Made with pasteurized milk from Piedmontese water buffalo, this bloomy-rind disk defies local tradition. Camembert? in Italy? This region’s soft-ripened cheese is robiola, which varies from village to village but never has a Camembert-type rind.
La Casera is an affinatore, a firm that buys young cheeses from other producers and ages them. So the company doesn’t make Camembert di Bufala but manages its progress from infancy to maturity—or, as the company describes it, “from nursery school to college.” I like that.
La Casera excels at maturing robiola—you may have had one of their silky robiolas aged in chestnut, fig or cabbage leaves—but aging Camembert-style cheese requires a new learning curve. These little disks are finicky about humidity and temperature, and they suffer if not pampered in shipping. What’s more, water-buffalo milk is higher in fat than cow’s milk—twice as high in some cases—which would also affect how the cheese develops.
I’ve sampled Camembert di Bufala several times now, with similar experiences. As a wedge comes to room temperature, it slumps and eventually collapses, with the interior puddling like fondue. This is the rare cheese that I would recommend consuming cool, not at room temperature, to savor it before it becomes soup. I would also suggest purchasing and serving the whole wheel—about 9 ounces—to postpone the meltdown. At the cheese counter, if possible, probe the disk with a tissue before you commit. If the surface is heavily mottled and the cheese feels squishy, it could be past its peak.
But a perfectly ripe Camembert di Bufala is dreamy, with a pronounced scent of porcini and a pale, supple interior. The rind is edible, but cut it away if you find it too tough. The cheese marches up to the edge on salt, but bread helps to mute that impression. And with such a runny cheese, bread is a must.
Look for Camembert di Bufala at Cheese Plus, Little Vine and Rainbow Grocery in San Francisco; Pasta Shop in Oakland and Berkeley and Cheese Board in Berkeley; Petaluma Market; Good Earth in Fairfax; Sacramento Natural Foods; Sunshine Foods in St. Helena; Oliver’s Markets in Santa Rosa; Cheese Shop of Healdsburg; Mollie Stone’s (multiple locations) and some Whole Foods. A rich white wine such as Chardonnay would complement it, as would a saison-style beer.