Top 10 ways to use up cheese leftovers

Christmas is to eating what Black Friday is to spending: one big binge. At least it is in my case. Somehow, after a three course mega-meal I still managed to find room for copious chunks of Comté and Monte Veronese (the latter is truly the dairy version of Pringles. Try it, you’ll see).

Now, the food coma has just about subsided and the fridge is chock full. 

Are you stuck with half a wheel of Brie? Perhaps there was the Stilton that didn't quite get away, or a half-eaten slab of Manchego. Whatever you have left, never fear, there’s a dish out there crying out for it. In fact, I've kindly put together a list to help all of those poor leftover cheeses that would otherwise be languishing on the shelf. Take pity, and try some of these.

Have a cheesy new year!

1. Brie, apple & onion tart – great for using up extra cranberry sauce, too. Serve hot or cold. 

2. Brussels sprout, bacon & Stilton pizzettas – add other toppings as you desire: sprouts, ham, turkey. The pizzetta is your oyster 

3. Cheeseboard soufflé & seasonal salad – not only does this use up all of your cheese, it looks super impressive 

4. Boxing day quesadillas – forget the turkey sandwich, take your tastebuds to Mexico 

5. Christmas quiche – this will take care of any Cheddar and Stilton rejects 

6. Green veggie fritters – best with soft cheeses, and, with all the added greens, sorta healthy 

7. Oozy cheesy pasta with crispy pangritata – it’s oozy, it’s cheesy, what’s not to love? 

8. Watercress and Wensleydale soup - Wallace would be proud 

9. Potato croquettes with bacon and cheese – instead of making a new batch, you could mash up your leftover spuds too 

10. Quick croque madame – au revoir, Gruyere! Plus, a quick way to use up all of that delicious leftover ham 

Macaroni magic

What better way to celebrate the versatility of cheese than pouring it over pasta and baking in the oven? 

Macaroni cheese is the ultimate comfort food; a golden bowl of squishy delight perfect for chilly grey days and dark nights. And, what’s more, it’s a super easy dish.

Before hitting the oven

I followed Nigella’s simple Mini Macaroni recipe from one of her previous books, Nigella Express. She lists not one, nor two but four different cheeses. I used all except the mascarpone — three seemed sufficient.

So, was my attempt as delectable as Nigella promised? 

Frankly, yes.

Show time

I went a bit overboard on the macaroni quantity so the sauce was spread thinner over a huge mass of pasta. I also used mature Gouda instead of Gruyère — Lidl was lacking in Gruyère at the time. While the result was tasty, it probably would have been improved with a stronger-tasting cheese, as recommended in the recipe.

Nevertheless, it had a peppery kick, and as I’d made six portions, I felt obliged to demolish another one a few hours later. Happy days.

The last straw

A friend pluckily brought this one back from a recent holiday to France, and I can safely say it is one of the strongest cheeses I’ve ever encountered, if not the funkiest. Don’t worry, I didn’t microwave this one.

First impressions were: straw mat, nice touch (“sur paille” means on straw). Sweet little birds, flowers and a fancy font.

Don’t let the cutesy packaging mislead you; Coulommiers means stinky business!

Named after a commune in the Seine-et-Marne department from France, it has a similar consistency to Brie, punctuated with little holes and a gloopy consistency. Unsurprising, then, that it is indeed a member of the Brie family, just smaller, denser and much stronger. It’s also made from unpasteurised milk as per the “au lait cru” written on the front.

I recommend diffusing the funky taste with a sweet accompaniment such as strawberry jam or redcurrant jelly. Not for the faint of heart, but certainly worth a nibble or two if you’re up to it.

10 of the best cheese jokes

Let’s say you’re at a dinner party or down the pub. I guarantee that on one of these occasions, after a few drinks, someone will get the (mozzarella) ball rolling. Before you know it, you’re all groaning at the cheese jokes you’ve heard 100 times before, while desperately trying to outdo your friends with equally awful puns.

This is how it went at my friend’s wedding this weekend. We were taking a break from the dancefloor, the alcohol was flowing — it was inevitable that someone started the cheese banter. I even made one up and there were lols! Twas a proud moment.

And so I was inspired to pen this post: a dedication to the cheese joke. I declare these 10 the crème de la crème of fromage-related wit. Read them, remember them and reel them off at a future social gathering. You won’t fail to impress.

1) What did the cheese say when it looked in the mirror?

Halloumi

2) What do you call a cheese factory in the Middle East?

Cheeses of Nazareth

3) Which cheese would you use to coax a bear from the woods?

Camembert!

4) What do you call cheese that’s not yours?

Nacho cheese

5) What music does cheese like?

R’n’Brie

6) What do you call a curly-haired cheese?

Permesan

7) What do you call a crazy cheese?

Emmental*

8) Would a smoked cheese grow on a tree?

No, but an Applewood

9) Why did the cheese lose a fight with a stone?

Because the Roquefort back

10) Which is the most feminist cheese?

Germaine Gruyère

Disagree? Tell me your faves.


*Copyright Laura Caun 2015

The Rachel

Way back in August, I happened to be in Bristol. After a balloon festival, several mammoth meals and local beers, the weekend was nicely rounded off by a visit to the Arch House Deli’s cheese counter in charismatic Clifton. Life, clearly, has been hectic and this post is somewhat belated, but I didn’t want to deprive you of a wonderful West Country discovery.

Balloons in Bristol

“What would you recommend?” I inquire. The server points to a curvaceous, smooth white cheese speckled with small holes – “this is our most popular cheese.” And so off I trot back to London armed with a substantial portion of Rachel – a semi-soft goat’s cheese made by White Lake Cheeses of Somerset. 

The Rachel

White Lake Cheeses are regular winners at the prestigious British Cheese Awards, conquering three categories this year. Having won in previous years, it’s obvious Rachel is made by some of Britain's finest cheese makers. 

Back at home, I’ve attacked Rachel with my cheese knife, and I’m delighted. People of Clifton, you have excellent taste. The flavour is creamy and mild, and it’s all too easy to consume a small slither at a time until realising you’ve eaten half the block. 

Fancy a suitable beverage to accompany this fabulous cheese? Arch House Deli recommends a single variety cider or a decent white wine, such as a Sancerre.

Meanwhile, on White Lake’s website, we learn that Rachel is named after a friend who, like this cheese, is sweet, curvy and slightly nutty. As comparisons go, that's not so bad. Better than being sour and mouldy, eh?

Balearic hunk

I was introduced to Sacanova – no, Google, I don’t mean Casanova – by my parents, who’d kindly brought some back from their recent holiday to Majorca. This sizeable piece of cheese actually originates from one of the smaller Balearic islands, Menorca. 

Sacanova is nice and squishy, speckled with little holes and encased in a bright orange rind. Creamy and mild, the slight tanginess instantly reminds me of a sheep’s cheese such as Manchego or Ossau-Iraty. For the record, it’s classed as an aged Mahon, which is a white cheese made from cow’s milk. 

Although I enjoyed it neat, you could try it with a sprinkling of black pepper, tarragon and olive oil - apparently the traditional manner of eating Mahon cheeses. While inoffensive – more boy band than lothario – I for one wouldn’t turn down another serving of Sacanova.

It's a wrap

Pancakes are one of the few dishes that work equally well in their savoury and sweet incarnations. While I am all too fond of indulging my sweet tooth, there’s no denying that when cheese is involved, pancakes reach new levels of deliciousness. I went straight for the holy trinity: three cheese kale pancakes. 

I adapted this Waitrose recipe slightly: there weren’t any savoury pancakes available, so I used seeded tortilla wraps. Not quite the same texture, clearly, although I could easily roll them into cigar shapes in preparation for the oven. Also, there was no ricotta available, so I used a tomato stir-in sauce that included it ­— ingenious, I know.

Tortilla 'pancakes' with tomato sauce and ricotta filling

With sublime cheesy smells wafting from the oven, I waited in mouth-watering anticipation.

Ping pong mozzarella balls

I’m proud to tell you that, despite my substitutions, the tortillas emerged crisp, crunchy and blissfully cheesy. Very filling too.





You can also banish any thoughts of indulgence guilt, as the addition of superfood kale means that these pancakes are in fact very, very healthy. My advice is to get wrapping.

Cutie Pié

Lying seductively in the billowing folds of waxy paper is Pié D’angloys, a rich and creamy darling. The Marilyn Monroe of cheese perhaps. I’ve already gushed about a blonde bombshell though, so let’s just say that this one is also a cheese starlet.

Pié D’angloys is made from cow’s milk and comes from Burgundy of eastern France, home to many Burgundian buildings and copious vineyards. The edible orangey rind is washed in wine, while the soft gooey centre ripens from the outside in.

Perfect with a slab of crusty French bread, or avocado and strawberry jam on a crunchy bagel (my fave light meal), the taste and consistency is similar to Brie, although it’s slightly milder and rather salty.

I wanted to branch out from my usual bagel territory, (not too far, mind) so I tried this eggy croque monsieur recipe by James Tanner, swapping Brie for Pié D’angloys and using brown seeded slices instead of white crusty bread. The result? Gloopy deliciousness. It’s pretty messy but oh so worth it. Accompany with a balsamic-drizzled mixed salad and you’re golden.

Molten cheese - the croque monsieur

Dennis, the god of wine

I’ve already gushed about how cheese and wine make great friends; even better, then, is learning how to appreciate good wine while you’re glugging it down with specially-chosen cheese.

This is exactly what I did, thanks to another Time Out offer.

Dionysius Importers are named after the Greek god of wine, Dionysus. Or, as I like to call him — Dennis. Italian wine specialists, they select vineyards based on their quality, resulting in a highly respectable selection. 

My friend Matt accompanied me on this cheese and wine odyssey, which took place in an unassuming hotel basement in Paddington where long tables were laid out in the style of children's birthday parties. Handily, we all knew where to sit as Dionysius had printed our names on the table mats.

Inspecting the seating

Our authentic Italian hosts then proceeded to show us how to drink wine. Properly that is. We were instructed to hold the red wine against a white napkin; if the edge of the wine was as dark as the middle and the same colour throughout the glass, then it’s full-bodied.

We were also told to slosh the wine around the glass before sticking our noses in for a whiff. Next, to sip and hold it in our mouths underneath the tongue, while opening and closing aforementioned mouth to let in some air. Talk about multi-tasking! We all giggled as our host waggled his finger to demonstrate.

I was also surprised to learn that if you can still taste the wine eight seconds after swallowing, then it’s a good ‘un.

All of this happened, naturally, in conjunction with cheese nibbling. Five wines, five complementary cheeses. As the names of these cheeses were long and Italian, alas my untrained English ears didn't catch all of them. 

Wine friends: assorted Italian cheeses

For me, the highlight was Bra Tenero, cut into cubes; this reminded me of an upmarket Cheese String with its elastic texture, delizioso! 

Bra Tenero

Another highlight was a smokey number — the circular cheese in the picture just below the Bra Tenero. Soft and chewy, Matt said it tasted like the moon, which I like to think it did, albeit with a hint of Pepperoni.

Finally, we were given another serving of our favourite wine of the night. My personal favourite was Malvasia Secca, a sparkling, soft-flavoured white wine we tried at the beginning of the tasting; apparently an excellent choice for cold meat starters.

Perhaps you already know how to drink wine, in which case I'm very happy for you. Nonetheless, I’d like to raise a toast to Dionysius Importers, who do a fine job introducing guests to high-quality Italian cheese and first-rate wine. Chin chin!

Dining at The Dorchester

Although this blog is mainly a platform for me to wax lyrical about cheese, I will occasionally expand into other taste territories. Last month, I was lucky enough to be whisked off to Alain Ducasse at The Dorchester for my birthday, and I feel it was too exceptional an experience not to share. Plus, there were several cheesy moments.

From the moment we entered the lavish dining room at this world-famous hotel, we were treated like royalty. Every glass was topped up, every crumb wiped discreetly away and tablecloth stains (I'm an enthusiastic eater, ok?) disappeared under a spotless napkin. They even move the table so you don’t have to squeeze into your seat. And after the rich, luxury meal we consumed, it really was a squeeze. 

All of this top-notch service served to prelude the other fine aspect of our visit: the food. 

We opted for the lunch menu, a simple three-course affair perhaps? Mais non! Seven courses more like, what with pre-course nibbles thrown into the mix. Some of the highlights included:

1) Gougères — these light-as-air choux pastry cheesy balls were one of the pre-starter dishes. They are insanely moreish. We dipped them, piping hot, in garlicky butter. Gorgeous! 

2) Duck egg and lamb on a cabbage medley. This was cold and a strange concoction of textures. In a good way.

3) Coconut and passionfruit sorbet. I don’t usually like coconut, but this was more than acceptable.

4) Chocolate surprise. This is everything you hope and dream a chocolate dessert can be: rich, sweet and gooey topped with crunchy biscuit and crumbly brownie. Heaven.

Candle optional

5) Four French cheeses matched with individual fruit chutneys. We savoured goat’s cheese, Camembert, Comté and Roquefort along with fig and walnut bread AND crackers.

6) Four types of mint tea. I had no idea there was so much choice in the herb world. Our good waiter proceeded to pestle and mortar my chosen leaves at the table before placing in a transparent teapot.

Not only was the food exquisite and seemingly endless, with three Michelin stars — the only U.K. hotel restaurant to achieve this status — Alain Ducasse at The Dorchester undoubtedly shines brighter than most due to its stellar service.

If you’re not a fan of starched tablecloths and devoted staff, then clearly this place ain't for you. Tout de même, I feel that once in a while it’s fun to be posh.

Blonde bombshell

On my birthday last month, Stuart dropped a bombshell: a striking, compact, perfect sphere of cheese to be precise.

JJ Sandham's 'Lancashire Bomb'

Peel back the dramatic exterior and you’ll discover a soft, creamy beauty protected by white gauze.

A little like Babybel in flavour, this is probably the fluffiest cheese I’ve eaten and is dangerously scrumptious, so much so that I grabbed a spoon and devoured it like a pudding. ‘Lancashire Bomb’ also melts perfectly on toast; just be careful you watch it like a hawk under the grill, as it softens in seconds.

I seem to fall for cheese from Lancashire. Perhaps because it’s the only county to produce three styles: Lancashire Creamy, Lancashire Tasty and Lancashire Crumbly. Or maybe it’s the area’s successful history of making excellent cheese; at its peak in the 1900s, Lancashire produced a staggering 4,800 tonnes each year. 

With a slick yet traditional operation going strong since 1929, JJ Sandham sources local milk within 15 miles of the dairy, makes all its cheeses by hand and produces six different types, including traditional, goat and sheep, sweet and savoury. 

I look forward to sampling the rest of JJ Sandham’s cheeses. Lancashire, you’re da bomb.

What not to do in the office canteen: my cautionary tale

I’ve often brought cheese into work for lunch to eat with a bagel, usually a few harmless chunks of Cheddar or perhaps some mild goat’s, which I’ll microwave into a soft gooey sandwich. Most of the time, this method works a treat.

As I alluded to in my previous post however, it's really important to pick your cheese wisely; I seem to have become immune to the stronger-smelling varieties and forget that, to other people, they absolutely reek. Here’s what happened on my second day in a new job.

I brought the lovely St. Nectaire into work mistakenly thinking it would be suitable for lunchtime zapping. After a customary 60 seconds, I noticed that there was indeed a powerful odour. The bagel had also transformed into a plasticy, barely-edible lump. Yuck. I was rather vexed by this unappetising result.

I sat with some people I’d just met and immediately the person to my right looked around and exclaimed, “Oh my god, what is that TERRIBLE SMELL?” Soon, everyone who sat down with me rapidly noticed the offensive pong; the unfolding situation reminded me of the sex panther scene in Anchorman (one of my all-time favourite films).

I forgot about this small faux pas until returning to my desk to hear someone just a few feet away in the middle of an indignant rant about how her soup was ruined by a girl and her microwaved bagel. She was quite literally cheesed off! Apparently a member of staff had been rooting through the bins to find the cause of the stench.

I later learned that the entire canteen reeked of my hapless St. Nectaire; someone said they thought it was dog food, while another claimed he suffered seasonal affective smell disorder the next day. Honestly, some people have no nose for a fine cheese.

If I’ve learnt anything from this stink-melt-melodrama, it’s that you shouldn’t ruin a distinguished cheese in the microwave at work. Stick to the milder specimens. On the plus side, I certainly made an impression. Not necessarily a pleasant one, but at least I’ll be remembered!

Three alpine cheeses

The very least someone can do when they jet off skiing is to bring back some fine mountain cheese. As well as hosting excellent, powdery snow, the Savoie region of south-east France produces exquisitely pongy cheese. Luckily for me, Stuart brought back several samples from his trip last month.

My eye was immediately drawn to Tomme au Marc: encased by a thick coating of dried grapes, it looks a lot like a giant, glistening oreo. It also has a formidable scent, due to being matured under a layer of grape Marc — grape pressings residue — for at least a month. To me, it had an overpowering taste of wine, which I found too bitter to enjoy. 

Tomme au Marc

Next up, the milder Beret Savoyard, which, according to Stuart, smelt like an unwashed belly button. I don’t seem to have a photo of this one; I promise I’m not making it up though. Despite its funky odour, we didn’t have any problems finishing Beret, and it went down a treat with some spicy fruit chutney.

A mountain of cheese in Tignes, French Alps

Then there was St. Nectaire. This semi-soft, washed rind cheese originates from a different French region west of Savoie in Auvergne, and its production is protected by the AOC seal. Matured for up to two months on rye straw mats, this mild-tasting cheese is covered in a chalky mould. It has an 

earthy taste, likely due to the rich diet of the large Salers cows.

St. Nectaire

If I had to choose a favourite Alpine cheese, it would be St. Nectaire. Mild, soft and gloopy, it is comforting and distinctive. If you happen to be skiing in France in future, I urge you to try it. Just don’t take it to work. Stay tuned for my next post!

Life is great; cheese makes it Feta

Feta is like a soggy version of snow. Like mozzarella, it has a moist (sorry), soft texture, and unlike mozzarella it is exceedingly salty. Used in moderation, it adds a wonderful tang to otherwise inoffensive dishes.

Feta

I’ve mentioned Feta briefly in a previous post, which mainly covered my adoration of the aubergine. Since then, I’ve attempted some other Feta-related feasts, and I thought it only right that I share them with you.

First up, a simple snack: Feta on toast with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. This works because the sweet, crunchy pepper perfectly balances the salty, crumbly Feta—a glorious union of contrasting textures and flavours.

Feta, red pepper and balsamic vinegar on toast

And then there was the oh-so-simple pasta dish, adapted from Good Housekeeping’s recipe. This happened after I took pity on some Feta sitting forlornly in the fridge, and decided to roast it for dinner. After a short blast in the oven, the hot, sweet, juicy cherry tomatoes proved a delicious accompaniment to the cheese; I didn’t so much eat as hoover this meal.

Roast tomato pasta with Feta

Did you know that Feta has ancient origins and can only be produced in Greece, yet its name is actually borrowed from an Italian word meaning slice? Watch this video for 23 other fascinating cheese name snippets. 

The title of this post is my own twist on a quote from a cheese murder mystery author—eat your heart out, Broadchurch! With titles like As Gouda as Dead, Clobbered by Camembert and The Long Quiche Goodbye, author Daryl Wood Gerber has deliciously cornered the market in cheese-related crime. I'm with her alter ego Avery Aames: Cheese certainly does make life Feta.

Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!

Aside from reasonably priced furniture, when one thinks of Ikea, one tends to envisage Swedish meatballs and cranberry sauce, mmm, want some now! (at least I do). Little did I know that they also produce some rather lovely cheese.

Cheese from Ikea: Ost Herrgard

Meet Ost Herrgard—a smooth, buttery and nutty number with more than a little resemblance to Leerdammer. Mild yet delicious, you could easily scoff slices of this on its own. My family and I decided to eat the French way and pair this Swedish delight with some fresh seeded bread. And I might add that this was after a hefty meal.




Still, I would say we were simply paying fromage, I mean homage, to French turophile Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, who once declared: “Dessert without cheese is like a beauty with only one eye.” I don’t know of any similar nuggets of cheese wisdom from a Swede (person not vegetable), but I do like the Swedish proverb: “Wisdom is in the head and not in the beard.” Who knew?

Adventures in Bruges

I’d been meaning to hop over to Bruges (not literally) for some time. Finally, spurred into action by a colleague handing out some delectable Belgian chocolates, I decided that I too, should visit the place famous for cobbled streets, chocolate and Irish hit men.

We sampled many a beer, dutifully climbed the tiny, windy staircase of the Belfry of Bruges, took a charming canal tour and eagerly explored the chocolate museum—Choco-Story. I particularly enjoyed the latter’s assortment of Playmobil displays scattered throughout the exhibition.

Belgian beer

Belfry of Bruges

Three cows in a Playmobil field at Choco-Story

And, of course, there was cheese. I tried an Italian salad with asparagus, sundried tomatoes and Parmesan at chic lunch boutique De Belegde Boterham. Sadly, all ingredients except for the lettuce were scarce, and it could have really done with more crunch. On the plus side, the bread was heavenly—fresh, soft brown slices with sunflower seeds, which mopped up the dressing nicely.

Italian salad

So, what was the cheese highlight of the weekend?

After wandering Bruges’ chilly January streets in search of dinner on our final night, we happily found Est Wijnbar. Aside from their extensive wine selection, they serve tapas and, more importantly, raclette!

Raclette is both the name of the dish and a type of Swiss cheese. Literally meaning to scrape (racler), you heat the cheese and watch it slowly softening, ready to be scooped swiftly onto carbs and greedily devoured.

Raclette

Confession: I had never eaten raclette before, and predicted that this would be one of the most positive (cheese) experiences of my life. Several glasses of Californian white wine later, my prediction was accurate; I was full and very very happy. This wasn’t just due to the wine.

Raclette and accompaniments

Although strong, the raclette flavour is not overpowering, and once spread onto bread slices and sprinkled with a little pepper, it’s incredibly addictive. Along with generous helpings of cured meat, pickles and bread, we guzzled almost all we were given.

The end of the affair

Raclette is a perfect way to warm body and soul on a cold winter night. My advice to you is, whenever possible, order this magnificent Swiss dish; you won’t raclette it.

Taleggio, Feta and the mad apple

I’m not sure exactly when my love for aubergines (or eggplants) began. It was most likely years ago during holidays in the Middle East, where aubergine dishes like baba ghanoush are as prevalent as sunburn (I speak for myself). Unlike my skin though, cooked aubergines result in sublime deliciousness.

The eggplant didn’t enchant everyone when it first burst onto the European scene in the mid-16th century. Related to the attractive but deadly nightshade family, including poisonous Jimson Weed and Belladonna, first impressions of the aubergine were fearful; thought to induce insanity, they were nicknamed mad apples.

Luckily, prejudice against aubergines slowly disappeared. And at some point, cheese got involved, which is where the magic really starts. To prove this, I followed a reliable recipe for Aubergine Parmigiana, which combines grated Taleggio and Parmesan with a tomato, pepper sauce and, of course, several aubergines. I recommend making/eating this dish if you seek intense feelings of elation and joy.

The makings of Aubergine Parmigiana

Aubergine Parmigiana

What a party in the mouth: Salty, slightly sweet sauce, cheese melted to perfection, fleshy aubergine and peppers, yum yum yum! Sweet, rich fig and red wine sourdough bread made a perfect accompaniment, serving as a sort of doughy spoon for the Parmigiana. Stuart’s verdict was “this is pretty good.” Uhhhm, understatement!

After this initial aubergine success, I made Ottolenghi’s roasted aubergine with fried onion and chopped lemon from his superb Jerusalem cookbook. Can you tell I’m fond of Middle Eastern cuisine? I served this for lunch as a side dish, and although I burnt the onion, my guests assured me the aubergines were tangy and tasty, offset by slightly melted chunks of salty Feta.

Roasted aubergine with fried onion and chopped lemon

I’ll continue to indulge my aubergine and cheese infatuation, and I urge you to try it; you’d be mad not to enjoy this perfect pairing.

Baaaattle of the sheep’s cheese: Manchego vs. Ossau Iraty

Two types of sheep’s cheese—one Spanish, one French. Which would ewe choose?

Manchego is the most popular sheep’s cheese, and with good reason. It originates from the La Mancha region of Spain, south-east of Madrid, where dutiful Manchego sheep produce thick milk, which explains the uniquely rich flavour characteristic of this semi-hard cheese.

Taste the Difference Manchego

I tried Sainsbury’s Spanish Manchego, Taste the Difference; I could certainly taste the difference! Nutty, smooth and seriously moreish— the Ferrero Rocher of cheese—I could have easily eaten the entire block, slice by delicious slice.

I felt compelled to make a strange sort of risotto with this gorgeous Spanish specimen. (Even the recipe I adapted has risotto in inverted commas).

Olive, edamame bean, cabbage and Manchego 'risotto'

Odd as it looks atop garish purple cabbage, the Manchego rose to the occasion, adding a welcome creaminess. And in my view, any dish that involves lashings of butter and wine can never go far wrong. Man, I love Manchego 5/5.

It’s a tough act to follow, and Ossau Iraty is no pushover. Produced in the south-western part of France in Aquitaine, it’s one of only a handful of sheep’s cheeses to boast the Appellation d'origine contrôlée (AOC), the highest possible protection of origin. Plus, it’s a two-time winner of the best cheese in the world title at the World Cheese Awards.

Ossau Iraty 

With such an impressive CV, Ossau has every reason to be revered. It’s slightly firmer and paler than Manchego, yet the flavour is stronger, less nutty, and the texture is smoother. I ate it melted on toast with some fruity chutney, and it was perfectly palatable. That being said, I didn’t feel a desire to scoff the whole wedge, as I had experienced with the Manchego. Ossau alrighty 3/5.

About thyme

I’m not great at baking. When I recently attempted some fairly innocuous sundried tomato biscuits, I burnt them so badly I put them into a vase on a mantelpiece and mourned them (slight exaggeration, and I don't have a mantelpiece but you get the idea).

Happily, a few weeks ago, I tried a different (cheesy) recipe and the result was edible. In fact, it was crunchy, creamy, thyme flavours emerged, garlic was subtle. It tasted good! Admittedly, the stakes were higher this time as I had guests round, so a disaster would have been a lil embarrassing.

You might ask, what was this miraculous baking achievement? A tomato, thyme and goat’s cheese tart no less, inspired by The Guardian’s marvellous list of 10 best goat’s cheese recipes. As one of my favourite cheeses, this list is a real gem.

Tomato, thyme and goat’s cheese tart

The recipe uses ready-rolled puff pastry, so most of the hard work is already done. And if a baking novice like me can master this, then it must surely be foolproof.  I’d just caution that the tart would suit a maximum of four people rather than six for a main course, as it’s very light.

As for the other nine recipes on the list, I may well surf the wave of goat’s cheese baking success and attempt the rest. Watch this goat, I mean space.