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.

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.

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.