Defeated by the bishop

I was eye to eye with a powerful and intriguing cheese from the chilled counter: Cropwell Bishop Nottinghamshire Blue. Buttery spicy blue, the label promised. It sounded like an exotic jazz band. Otherwise known as Blue Stilton, it rates an intimidating 5 on the strength scale. Not the strongest, but definitely not mild either.

I can manage a reasonably strong cheese laced with blue mould, I think to myself, scooping it up with impulsive optimism. In all honesty, this was out of my usual comfort zone of soft and gooey, or sturdy, smooth and spore-free. Still, they say it’s good to face your fears.

I bravely took a bite with my lunchtime bagel. Chew. Grimace. Swallow. No, this wasn’t working. The sourness was simply overpowerful and I couldn't stomach much more than a mouthful. Oh how I tried! I attempted to dilute the flavour by burying it in a zingy, sweet salad. Alas, the mouldy flavour resurfaced, pungent and determined.

Cropwell Bishop Nottinghamshire Blue disguised in a red pepper, bean, apple and beetroot salad.

Blue Stilton is apparently known as the king of English cheeses. After attempting this imperial specimen, I can see why. That is, if kings are characterised by defiance and bitterness; I could see this brazen Stilton effortlessly ousting a mild-mannered Jarlsberg from its perch on a cheese board battlefield.

Does my defeat make me a terrible cheese critic? Probably. This isn't meant to be an elite forum for fromage snobbery though. I like to eat cheese and write about it; and it just happens that the veiny ones aren't my cup of tea. Cropwell Bishop Nottinghamshire Blue, I really can’t stand you. But damn it, do I respect you.

Got my goat

I’m venturing off the beaten cow track slightly this week as I’ve been indulging in goat dairy produce, which is quite frankly magnificent. Possibly my favourite textured cheese, and one that I regularly purchase due to its buttery simplicity, is St. Helen’s Farm goats’ cheese from Sainsbury’s. It’s just so imperturbably smooth. I would even go so far as to say it's the James Bond of cheese.

Incidentally, St. Helen’s Farm makes formidable goats butter too. In fact, I am so enamoured by it, I now refuse to eat regular butter (this isn’t strictly true, but if I had a choice, it would be goats butter every time!). So back to the cheese: I often fling this goaty number into my dinners, which all too often end up being an omelette or a sweet potato and sometimes both.

This is super easy, which is why I make it so often. Just four eggs, a red pepper, half an onion, some oil and a generous topping of goats cheese, et voilà!

 This is even easier, just microwave the sweet potato, chop a red pepper and an avocado. Douse in olive oil and balsamic vinegar, grated goats cheese. Lovely.

In the mood to experiment, I decided to veer further into goat territory by trying Kidderton Ash Goats’ Cheese, also by Sainsbury’s. On unpeeling the wrapper, it was slightly disconcerting to see a fine black smudgy outline around the edges, like a kohl-eyelinered 60s siren, or Bond girl, if we're keeping to that theme. 

I tried Kidderton Ash with some Piri Piri Sweet Chilli Flat Bread (so sweet and moreish, that I ate the rest of the packet without any cheese) and a dollop of Waitrose’s sweet and spicy peach chutney. The flavour of the cheese isn’t unlike brie, although it’s more distinctive; its overall texture is creamy, while the charcoaled coating lends a subtle, smoked taste.

Goats, I salute you! If one thing is for certain, it’s that I’ll be trying more of your cheese and continuing to scoff your delicious butter.

Even wensleydale

Ah, wensleydale; this soft and crumbly cheese never fails to remind me of that scene in A Close Shave−cut to Wallace’s horrified gulp when Wendolene declares she can’t stand the stuff. Don’t worry, Wallace, I eat cheese! Even wensleydale! I was actually donated this particular brand, Sainsbury’s Traditional Wensleydale, by my northern housemate, who bought it by mistake: One man’s accidental purchase = my delicious snack.

Here, I’m chomping it with pumpkin seeds & oats ryvita, a pleasing contrast between the slightly bitter tanginess and a crunchy, oaty cracker.

Last weekend, completely by coincidence, I stopped by the home of Traditional Wensleydale: a small market town in Yorkshire named Hawes. I was not there to eat wheels of cheese however. We went to watch many many wheels flew by as part of The Grand Départ.

We had initially intended to station ourselves at the delectably named Buttertubs Pass to get the best view of the ascending cyclists; instead we found ourselves a perfectly decent viewing spot just a short distance away from the centre of Hawes.

Despite Stuart suffering two punctures and nearly colliding with a skittish goat en route, it was a truly delightful day, and we glimpsed an abundance of lycra and expensive bikes zooming by for at least five minutes.

I only wish I had known we would be visiting the birthplace of wensleydale (I learnt this after my cheese-donating housemate informed me later); we could have enjoyed The Wensleydale Creamery Visitor Centre! Wallace would have been so proud. But hey, there’s always next time.