Feeling sheepish

Sardinia, land of history, hiking, cycling, sheep and azure coastlines along with blood soup and maggot cheese—casu marzu (literal translation: rotten cheese, mmm). Actually, I haven’t been to this picturesque island; my parents have just returned and report that it’s a cheese-lover’s dream. To my delight, mum brought me back some, and thankfully it was larva-free.

As I eagerly sliced open the vacuum packed wedge of Caciotta Ovina, it felt dense and smelt rather powerful. It has a pale yellow, grainy hue. However, on meeting the knife, it doesn’t crumble like other hard cheeses; in fact, it peeled gently off the knife onto my assorted crackers with the elastic quality of Cheddar or Gouda.

Sheep’s milk naturally contains more fat and protein than cow’s or goat’s and I could perceptibly taste a difference. Alongside the unfamiliar flavour, it tasted piquant, like a soft version of Parmesan.

Caciotta Ovina

Even after a large Sunday lunch, inevitable hunger pangs struck again in the evening, and it wasn’t difficult to decide what to do about it: more of my new best friend from Sardinia! In fact, the Caciotta Ovina tasted even better—unsurprisingly—melted on toast with Britain’s favourite fashionista’s Peach & Apricot Chutney.

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.