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.