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.