In with the old, out with the new

Old Amsterdam is full of character, according to its website. Why is it called Old? Because it’s mature and traditional, innit. It has a “timeless quality.”

I found it nonchalantly perched on the non-refrigerated shelf in Morrisons, a supermarket with an award-winning reputation, reflected in its numerous prizes at the International Cheese Awards in Nantwich this year.

My trust in the not so new paid off. Old Amsterdam is indeed full of character, similar to a mature Cheddar— creamy, rich and strong. With some leftover white wine loitering in our fridge, the obvious thing to make was a risotto, so I found a suitable mushroomy recipe. I took the liberty of adding some green beans and an abundance of Old Amsterdam. The result was gloopy but delicious. Nothing beats a steaming bowl of comforting risotto at any time of year and especially during cold, dark November.

The makings of a great risotto as well as two plug sockets

Really easy mushroom risotto

First time's the charm

Morrissey and Albarn both sang about charming and charmless men respectively. I’m going to sing the praises of a charming cheese, aptly named Sussex Charmer—“Unique Mature Cheese.”

Eager to try a new brand, I picked up this intriguing little number from Sainsbury’s. The description assured me that this cheese was the most exciting I’d “ever herd of.” A pun on packaging? Well I never. As a pun-lover through and through (see previous post), I was thrilled; this could potentially be the cheese of my dreams.

It then went on to detail a secret recipe, which combined tradition with Parmesan and that this would add “pedigree to the noblest of cheeseboards.” Was this actually the charmless man painted by Albarn: educated the expensive way, with educated airs and family shares? The Blurb (sorry, couldn’t resist) also said it made “charming cheese on toast.” Bold claims indeed; fortunately, I was willing to believe them.



Raw, it does indeed resemble Parmesan: hard, granular, crumbly and with that deliciously familiar tang.



Where it really reaches its full charming height however, is as promised: melted on toast. Not just any toast would be good enough for this member of the cheese nobility, clearly, so I bought one of Gail’s hearty seeded bloomers, which seemed gallant enough for the task.

I was generous, piling slabs of the Sussex Charmer on two huge hunks of bread and topping them with some Worcester sauce once the cheese was oozing. The result? Perfection!

A crunchy, colourful side of green beans and beetroot complemented the golden main course well.

Speaking of Parmesan, and having found some in the fridge, I sprinkled it on a variation of a Spanish Omelette I rustled up recently. Life doesn’t guarantee many things, however it's a fact that Parmesan always delivers flavour.

And, while I may not know as much as the pantry boy in The Smiths’ song, I am confident that anyone could succumb to the Sussex Charmer, with its pun-friendly packaging and glorious melted goodness.

Parmesan melted on a fried potato and onion omelette.