Poor Richard’s Almanac

The big, bad, bandaged cheese. March 19, 2010

Our friend Ben is once again interrupting our week of “lucky posts” here at Poor Richard’s Almanac, much to the outrage of Silence Dogood, who has been waiting (and waiting) to post her piece about lucky and unlucky foods. But this post is actually about food, too. Well, about the language of food. And it’s a very lucky post for us, since it’s our 1,000th post. Thanks to all who read, comment on, and enjoy our posts! We love you.

But returning to the subject of food, our friend Ben was amazed to learn that Wisconsin hosts a World Championship of Cheese. The winners in 79 categories were announced Thursday and made today’s news, chosen from 2,300 entries. Cheesemakers from around the world and from all sorts of enterprises, family farms specializing in artisanal cheeses to cheesemaking “teams” from big companies, came away with awards in their various categories. The 2010 grand championship went to a Swiss Gruyere, just so you know.

But much as our friend Ben loves cheese (unless it’s brilliant orange or smells so bad that it’s practically begging for a hasty burial), it was not the winning cheese that attracted my attention. Instead, it was the language. I was still reeling from a salsa recipe in a recent edition of the New York Times that directed readers to boil paste tomatoes in water until they collapsed. (Silence, who shared that wording with me, thought it was, though graphic, extremely apt. But I confess that I failed to find the concept of collapsing tomatoes especially appetizing, since it reminds me of overripe tomatoes that must be oh-so-gingerly transferred to the compost heap while the hapless gardener prays they don’t burst. Trust me, there’s a reason why people throw rotten tomatoes.) And now cheese.

The first thing that struck me was that the actual name of the venerable contest, which has been held biennially for 28 years, is The World Cheese Championship Cheese Contest.* I have checked this several times, and it appears to really be the correct name. Clearly, the originator of the contest must have worked for the infamous Department of Redundancy Department.

The second thing that struck me is that the New York Times, a paper I generally respect, seems to have picked up the article on the cheese competition from AP (that’s the Associated Press, a newswriting corporation that supplies drop-in articles to news sources around the country). I checked numerous times, and the only thing that came up from the NYT was the AP story. Now, prior to this discovery, our friend Ben had assumed that all content in the New York Times was original. To see a generic food story on a topic that would have made a marvelous original food column was extremely disheartening. I wish the NYT had commissioned Peter Mayle to write it.

Returning to the contest itself, our friend Ben’s favorite cheese, if someone held a gun to my head and asked me to name it, would be a very dry, very sharp Cheddar.** Not that I don’t love a buttery Brie or an aged Asiago or a pungent feta or Gorgonzola or a locally made yogurt cheese with herbs and garlic, or, or, or. But I think Cheddar is genetically hardwired into my tastebuds.

I grew up with an adored grandfather who sliced his own preferred brand of sharp white Cheddar, Coon Cheese, with a pocket knife and ate it with crispy apple slices. (The cheese in question, which came in a distinctive black wrapper featuring a raccoon logo, has long since undergone a makeover, but can still be purchased as Cracker Barrel Aged Reserve Sharp Cheddar, still in the black wrapper but minus the raccoon.) Our friend Ben would add a crusty baguette and butter, a crisp Riesling, and a red bell pepper (cut in strips), with, perhaps, some hot, crunchy radishes on that buttered slab of baguette, and of course a healthy sprinkling of salt. I might even abandon Grandaddy’s beloved brand in favor of Black Diamond or a local aged Cheddar. But I still think the basic idea is comfort food at its finest.

But again returning to the contest, the third thing that struck me was a type of Cheddar that had two categories devoted specifically to it: bandaged Cheddar. Now, perhaps my attention was especially drawn to this because our friend Ben must be the most accident-prone human on earth. As I type, I have an inextractable piece of asphalt roofing tile lodged under my thumbnail, and am anxiously watching for signs of gangrene. Bandaged Is Us. But more to the point, even as a cheese, and especially Cheddar cheese, lover, our friend Ben has never before heard of bandaged Cheddar. Whazzat?!!

Rushing over to Wikipedia, I found the following: “Bandaged Cheddar is a raw cows [sic] milk cheese made in California. The cheese is aged for 16 months in a gauzy cheese cloth that reminds one of a bandage… Bandaged Cheddar tends to be dark straw in color on the inside and has a nutty, grassy aroma and taste.”

Not being a cow, a dark straw color and grassy aroma and taste don’t sound particularly appetizing to our friend Ben, but I thought that further research was called for. Fiscalini Bandaged Cheddar from Modesto, California, which won the prestigious British Wyke Farms Trophy for “Extra Mature*** Traditional Cheddar” in 2007, the first time the award had ever gone to a Cheddar cheese not produced in England, has this to say about their cheese: “[It] is a true American farmstead cheddar [sic] and sings with a luxurious balance of buttery, grassy, and savory flavors.”

Well, geez. That grassy thing remains a bit too bovine for my taste. But buttery and savory sound very good. You can try it for yourself at www.artisanalcheese.com, or check out the competition: The winners of the 2010 bandaged Cheddar competition were, in the “Bandaged Cheddar, Mild to Medium” category, Kiel Cheesemakers, Land O’Lakes Inc., Kiel, Wisconsin, and in the “Bandaged Cheddar, Sharp to Aged” category, Dane Huebner, Flat Creek Lodge, Swainsboro, Georgia, in case you’re wondering.

Meanwhile, our friend Ben is going off to find a bandage to wrap up my remaining functional thumb, which was just lacerated by a sheet of metal screening. And then maybe I’ll head for some Aged Reserve Cheddar to enjoy with my baguette, butter, salt, and radishes…

* Mercifully, I’ve now found a few websites that simply list it as “The World Championship Cheese Contest.” Whew.

** Why are cheeses like Cheddar capped when others like feta aren’t, you ask? It’s all a question of place or person. Cheddar is the actual place name of a village in Somerset, England. That’s also why cheeses like Swiss, Brie, Camembert, Gouda, Gorgonzola, Havarti, American and Asiago are capped. (Ditto for Monterey as in Monterey Jack, both names capped since Jack is a person’s name, which is also why Cooper cheese is capped.) Generic cheeses, like blue cheese, sharp cheese, farmers’ cheese, cottage cheese, and cream cheese, aren’t capped because they don’t refer to place names or people’s names. Just FYI.

*** Uh, “extra mature”? This ranks right up there with “extra virgin.”