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.

Getting to the Pont

In another random act of cheese grabbing last week, Waitrose’s Petit Pont L’Eveque A.O.P. seemed ripe for the taking. It was ripe enough for eating too! Rather like brie, with its white edible rind and soft yellow insides, it has a firmer texture with delicate holes sprinkled across it, like angelic airy freckles. Rather fittingly, the cheese was originally known as “cherub,” before acquiring the name of the village in which it was made. 

The taste is somewhat stronger than brie; Waitrose says, diplomatically: “a piquant fruity tang.” Another commonly used term in the cheese world is “funky,” which I would personally attach to this particular cheese. It is quite smelly too—nowt wrong with that of course. 

As a huge avocado advocate, I smushed (the technical term) some into one half of an English muffin, layered some layers of Petit Pont onto the other, and finally topped with some quince jelly and balsamic vinegar. A little strange maybe, but I enjoyed the sweetness of these condiments coupled with the strong flavoured cheese and creamy nourishing avocado. L’Eveque, c’est magnifique!

Three smelly cheeses

It’s been a difficult time in my kitchen. Each time we opened the fridge door, a pungent odour instantly filled the room. As if we’d been hoarding a full bin bag in the fridge (we hadn’t). Most days, Stuart protested about the stench, but I remained hard-nosed about the situation, biding my time in order to seek some suitably smelly cheeses that I could compare and contrast. Happily, after more than a week of hoarding Epoisses in the fridge (which I don’t recommend, by the way) finally, I got around to finding some other stinky specimens.

Lynda from the Waitrose cheese counter was distinctly amused when I requested "your most stinky cheeses!” Sadly, there was no sign of the smelliest cheese in the world, nor even the smelliest in Britain. However, she did gallantly offer me two choices that she felt stung the nostrils (in a good way).

Tête de Moine

This is a Swiss cheese from the Jura region. Uncooked, it smells not unlike a charity shop, with a powerful musty aroma. It has a firm almost rubbery texture encircled by a pastel orange rind. I’ve since learnt it tastes fabulous when melted, similar to Raclette.

Tête de Moine with couscous and roasted veg, topped with balsamic vinegar

Arrigoni Taleggio

Softer and shinier than Tête de Moine, this Taleggio has a subtler scent. Square in shape, it is firm yet squidgy and retains a robustly sour flavour.

Berthaut’s Epoisses A.O.P.

Recently featured on the Great British Bake Off, Mel described Berthaut's Epoisses as “the essence of a thousand students’ socks.” It is by far the smelliest cheese I’ve encountered. On slicing, it oozes eagerly out of its orange rind as if desperate to prove that its stink is worse than its bite. I was surprised that actually, its flavour is indeed less fearsome than its aroma will have you believe. Salty and unashamedly gooey, the cheese’s rind is washed in Marc de Bourgogne brandy, which is detectable on tasting.

I tried all three of these stinkers with Mary Berry’s peach and apricot chutney, providing an inoffensive and sweet contrast, as well as Gail’s rye and poppy seed loaf, which I thoroughly recommend. Unlike blue cheese, which tastes stronger than it smells, these reeking cheeses have a deceptively subtle taste. You might want to, but don’t turn your nose up before trying some.

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.