Adventures in Bruges

I’d been meaning to hop over to Bruges (not literally) for some time. Finally, spurred into action by a colleague handing out some delectable Belgian chocolates, I decided that I too, should visit the place famous for cobbled streets, chocolate and Irish hit men.

We sampled many a beer, dutifully climbed the tiny, windy staircase of the Belfry of Bruges, took a charming canal tour and eagerly explored the chocolate museum—Choco-Story. I particularly enjoyed the latter’s assortment of Playmobil displays scattered throughout the exhibition.

Belgian beer

Belfry of Bruges

Three cows in a Playmobil field at Choco-Story

And, of course, there was cheese. I tried an Italian salad with asparagus, sundried tomatoes and Parmesan at chic lunch boutique De Belegde Boterham. Sadly, all ingredients except for the lettuce were scarce, and it could have really done with more crunch. On the plus side, the bread was heavenly—fresh, soft brown slices with sunflower seeds, which mopped up the dressing nicely.

Italian salad

So, what was the cheese highlight of the weekend?

After wandering Bruges’ chilly January streets in search of dinner on our final night, we happily found Est Wijnbar. Aside from their extensive wine selection, they serve tapas and, more importantly, raclette!

Raclette is both the name of the dish and a type of Swiss cheese. Literally meaning to scrape (racler), you heat the cheese and watch it slowly softening, ready to be scooped swiftly onto carbs and greedily devoured.

Raclette

Confession: I had never eaten raclette before, and predicted that this would be one of the most positive (cheese) experiences of my life. Several glasses of Californian white wine later, my prediction was accurate; I was full and very very happy. This wasn’t just due to the wine.

Raclette and accompaniments

Although strong, the raclette flavour is not overpowering, and once spread onto bread slices and sprinkled with a little pepper, it’s incredibly addictive. Along with generous helpings of cured meat, pickles and bread, we guzzled almost all we were given.

The end of the affair

Raclette is a perfect way to warm body and soul on a cold winter night. My advice to you is, whenever possible, order this magnificent Swiss dish; you won’t raclette it.

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.