Monday, May 30, 2011

I don't know... it's like no cheese I've ever tasted...

At the wine-tasting I talked about in the last post, we were also served a platter of cheese.  There were some normal-er ones (Comté and Gruyère), a Morbier that was less pungent than others I've tried, and a new cheese I'd never had before called Fleur du Maquis.  The first three were good and looked and tasted very much like you'd expect, but here's a picture of a Fleur du Maquis:




Yes, the fluffy white stuff is mold.  The twiggy bits are rosemary and some other herbs.  

I fluctuate from being proud that I ate it to being mortified about it.  There is no doubt that this cheese looks ungodly, but its flavors are really interesting.  The truth is, it does taste moldy.  It's got that perfume-y taste of mold that you would recognize from getting a whiff when looking into a too-old bag of bread.  But on top of that, there's a great woodsy, herb flavor, and the cheese inside is also quite delicious, but in the, well, reassuringly boring, normal realm of how cheese tastes.  

I've always fancied myself an adventurous eater (note that I do have a line though, and I drew it at earthworms), but this one tested my enthusiasm.  As I chewed it, I replayed the little introduction to it the  group-leader gave, making sure "the rind is edible" was indeed said.  It took me until today (three days after the tasting) to feel comfortable that nothing bad is going to happen as a result.  So far, so good.  If you see that thing, eat it.  I dare you.

Sunday, May 29, 2011

Tasting Wine

Another great wine-tasting session.  I certainly picked the right student club to press as much value out of my education as possible.  My neighbor in the classroom where the session was held told me about how he started liking wine when, as a twelve year-old boy, his parents took him wine-tasting in France.  He said, "I didn't start my drinking on a park-bench with a paper bag or anything like that. Ha ha."  That prompted me to recount my own story of how I came to appreciate wine, which begins with the summer I spent in Paris after my sophomore year in college when my classmates and I drank 2-3 wines with names like Bastardi every night until one of us had to be hospitalized with a kidney stone.  After that, liking the taste of good wine was easy.  I suppose this isn't too far removed from starting on a park-bench.