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. |
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. |
 |
