The class instructor directed me to the Cave Internship program at Murray’s, where I would spend many meditative hours patting and flipping Selles-sur-Cher and Brillat Savarin. This led to a year as a cheesemonger at the Grand Central Station store, and then to a position as an Associate in the ecommerce department, assisting cheese lovers across the nation.

No matter how many cheeses I try, my all-time-when-in-doubt-go-to-favorite is a baguette with Gruyere, Jambon Royal, and a liberal dose of spicy Dijon. Classic and freaking amazing, it’s particularly perfect before or after running a marathon.

Cate Peebles is a cheesemonger for Murray’s By Mail. When she’s not taking an order on the phone or taping boxes shut to ship cheesy goodness all over the USA, you can find her running marathons and making the rest of us look lazy.

We really never hear about cheese when talking about Earth Day. It sounds like a bit of a stretch to discuss cheese on a day that’s supposed to be focused on environmental conservation, awareness and activism.  But why not? Really, it makes perfect sense for cheese and cheese farming to enter into the topics of discussion for Earth Day. When done right and responsibly, cheese can represent a certain closeness to our food sources. Cheese comes from milk, milk comes from cows, cows eat plants; how many things does the average American consume on a daily basis that can have their genealogy traced so clearly and with so few steps? Indeed, it seems as if the best cheese almost always comes from the smallest, most traditional and most natural sources.

A perfect (and delicious) example of just how well cheese can fit in on Earth Day is Jasper Hill Farms’ compact and beautiful creation, Harbison. Harbison, in production, flavor, and concept, is the definition of terroir and brings a true taste of place to anyone fortunate enough to dive into its creamy and buttery paste. The cheese, named for Greensboro resident Anne Harbison, is produced at Jasper Hill Farms from their small herd of Ayrshire cattle. The farm itself is a picture of sustainability, maintaining a small herd and closely monitoring the health and well -being of the animals, as well as finishing up a project that will recycle manure solids from the cows and wastewater and whey from the cheesemaking process to help power their facilities. Once this project is completed, the farm will produce almost zero waste.

Harbison sets itself apart from its other bloomy-rinded cousins not just by way of its noble upbringing, but also by its outfit choice. The small wheels each come wrapped in a small girdle of spruce bark obtained from trees on the farm, which are naturally composted to enrich the soil after the bark has been harvested. The bark wrapping affects the flavor of the cheese in an interesting way; the flavors that shine through in a wheel of Harbison don’t simply remind one of the plants and scents of the woods, but rather are evocative of the forest as a whole. Herbal flavor notes (mustard, fennel, and tarragon, to name a few) dominate the start, while the finish highlights the buttery and rich milk produced by the Ayrshire cows. These flavors yearn to be paired with a crisp sparkling white, or a bright, hoppy IPA to match the powerful herbal notes. Cured meats and dry salamis are enlivened by the creamy spoonable wonder and bring a new depth of flavor to a ripe Harbison.

So, this Earth Day, show your love for Mother Nature by enjoying cheese the way nature intended. Grab a wheel of Harbison, peel off the delicate top rind and let your cheese plate proclaim your love for the Earth.

Back-to-the-landers Wes Jarrell and Leslie Cooperband started Prairie Fruits Farm in Champaign Urbana, Illinois in 2003, sowing buckwheat and modern farming ideals. To start, they planted hundreds of fruit trees and berry plants, and obtained three Nubian goat does and one buck.  Nine years later, they produce up to thirteen different cheeses, mostly from the milk of their goatherd.  The farm takes on many roles to achieve an admirable goal:  educate the local community about the connection between food production and consumption.  Cheeses like the young bloomy rind Angel Food are the delectable delivery system of their message. Organic growing practices ensure that the, ahem, fruits of their labors are tasty (Wordplay: rhymes with Earth Day!).

In keeping with the tenets of sustainability and small-scale, diversified farming systems, Jarrell and Cooperband run a pasture-based, seasonal dairy.  These farmers take the greatest care with their animals, using rotational grazing methods to keep them on fresh pasture during the growing season, and feeding them alfalfa hay and locally grown grain during the winter.  Chickens partner with the goatherd to manage pest control in the goat barn, helping to maintain sanitary conditions and healthy milkers.  Because of the careful attention to their animals’ health and quality of life, they are certified as Animal-Welfare Approved.

The orchard and berry patch are similarly cared for, deterring pests, weeds and disease through ecological and biological controls rather than conventional herbicides, pesticides, or fertilizers.  Flowering plants grow in the orchard to attract beneficial insects, especially honeybees.  As a testament to their sustainable agriculture vision, nothing goes to waste at Prairie Fruits Farm: food waste and manure gets turned into compost for the fields, and even excess whey produced during cheesemaking finds purpose as fertilizer and as livestock feed for other farms.  Like the cheeses, orchard and berry fruits are sold at local farmers’ markets.

One standout cheese, Angel Food, is a soft-ripened goat cheese made in the style of a French Coulommier.  Similar to a Camembert, this interpretation is aged two weeks.  Beneath the downy white rind lies a gooey creamline and a fluffy paste that melts into a silky, flowing mess of deliciousness as the cheese ages.   To make this sensational treat, the curds are hand-ladled into round molds.  A ripe wheel of Angel Food can substitute for the Brie you’re planning to serve at your next gathering.  But it’s spring – pack it in a picnic basket with a bubbly beverage and some fresh fruit as a part of your outdoor Earth Day celebrations.  Sarah, of Prairie Fruits Farm, recommends a Normandy Apple Cider to wash it down.  Bring it all together with berries like those you’d find growing near where the goats pasture. Prairie Fruits Farms’ intent is to help connect in their patrons’ minds food production and consumption; be at one with the pure terroir of Angel Food; free of unnatural elements and fresh from the prairie.  Angel Food, you make me feel like a natural woman.

What does Earth Day mean to you? To me it translates into the perfect opportunity to introduce you to some favorite cheeses, made in sustainable and earth-friendly ways. Take Consider Bardwell’s yellow-hued, whale stamped alpine tomme, Rupert, for example. This 25-pound beauty hails from the area straddling Vermont’s pristine Champlain Valley and New York state’s easternmost Washington County.  Originally a cheese-making co-op way back in the mid-1800’s, the Consider Bardwell Farm was neglected for years, but fortunately for us, a couple of cheese visionaries stepped in to revitalize its cheese-making history!

Rupert’s sweet, almond-nutty deliciousness starts in the field with all of the great grassy diversity inherent in local foraging and fresh pasture eating. Since Consider Bardwell Farm only raises goats on the property, the farm partners with three neighboring dairy farms to source their milk, effectively breathing economic vitality back into the struggling Vermont community. Previously, the dairies were non-working or raised their cows in the conventional way, but with the loving support of Consider Bardwell Farm, these dairies now pasture their animals in the summer, utilizing rotational grazing practices, and feed the cows dry hay from Consider Bardwell in the winters.

The farm also keeps its pastures pesticide and fertilizer free, and has recently joined the USDA Grassland Reserve Program, or GRP. According to the USDA, the GRP consists of voluntary conservation membership which emphasizes biodiversity of local flora and fauna, as well as protection of grassland. With all of this natural diversity in their diets, coupled with sunshine and fresh air, the happy cows who graciously provide their milk for Rupert stay healthy without the use of antibiotics and added hormones.

If you’re not already sold on this cheese just take a look at its trophy case! In both 2010 and 2011, Rupert was an American Cheese Society winner, and in 2011 it took home awards at the U.S. Cheese Championship . Try it! On its own this smooth, rich alpine beauty makes a phenomenal midday snack. It is equally delicious grated in a bright spring vegetable tart in place of Gruyere (the ramps have arrived!).  But since Earth Day is all about loving our planet, why not pack a picnic and get outside to enjoy the sunshine and nature that Consider Bardwell Farm is working to preserve!

Bock beers: Big, sweet, malty, rib-sticking beers that were originally made to wrap up the brewing season. The name comes from the town of their creation, Einbeck, which was eventually bastardized into bock, which is the German word for goat. So which cheese to pair with them…  Goat cheese, of course! Oh the puns we’ll do!

First I had to select my beers. I immediately reached for Troeg brewery’s Troegenator dopplebock: a big, sweet, strong (%8.5 abv!) dopplebock with intense dried fruit notes and a dangerous amount of drinkability. This is about as true to the style as you can get. Quick note: the suffix of –ator always denotes a dopplebock, which is a shout-out to the first dopplebock, Salvator, produced way back in 1773.

For the second, I went a little out there and selected one of Sam Adam’s new limited release offerings called The Vixen. It’s a bock beer brewed with cocoa nibs, with an added spiciness of cinnamon and chilies. Now having read all that, I wasn’t prepared for the flavor: Rich, roasty, but with more coffee in the body than chocolate. The chocolate only appears in the finish with the barest hint of spice. Where the Troegenator is a perfect example of the classic style, Vixen takes the basics and runs with it.

For my cheese, I knew that I had to go with some big flavors, as the heavy sweetness of a bock would clobber anything too mild. When pairing it’s always key to match intensities: strong with strong, mild with mild. The goal in all of this is to find two things that join up, work together, and become more than the sum of their parts. I selected an ooey, gooey Brunet, with its big goaty tang and assertive bite, as well as two washed-rinds: Consider Bardwell’s Manchester and Tomme de Chevre Aydius.

Some of the pairings were sublime, while others swayed into the inedible. Good news first! Troegenator with Brunet worked together fantastically. The intense, almost bitter cheese filled in as the hops for the beer, while the sweetness of the beer enveloped and mellowed out the cheese. They filled in each others gaps and emerged a delicious, complete beer/cheese hybrid of decadent yumminess.

The other big winner was a big surprise and is a bit of a challenge to put into words. The Vixen, with all of that roasty complexity, went so well with the Tomme de Chevre Aydius that we couldn’t stop eating it. I wish I had bought more! The two married so well, with deep bready, nutty notes emerging that weren’t evident in either the cheese or the beer on their own. Truly one of those sublime pairings where a completely new experience emerges, transcending its individual parts.

Now the bad news. Some of these pairings are definite no-gos. Brunet, which went so well with the sweet and intense Troegenator, turned almost noxious with the Vixen. “Like a shot of rancid liquor,” as my wife put it, waving her hand in front of her mouth as if to ward off the flavor. The roasty notes in the beer, which can sometimes take a bitter, molasses-esque tone, joined up with the bitter notes in the cheese to crush all joy out of the pairing. Avoid! But where did this leave the Manchester? Forgotten, too mild to stand up to either beer and getting utterly lost in the mix.

It can’t be said enough: When thinking pairings, make sure both parties can stand up to each other. When you match strengths, individual flavors won’t get lost. If you’re lucky they might even combine to create something delicious and unexpected – just one more reason to keep experimenting and tasting at home!

Kevin Brooks is a monger and merchandising specialist at Murray’s Cheese. He’s on an eternal quest for the “third flavor” and the “perfect burrito.”

Robin H. Minkoff

When I tell people I’m a cheesemonger, they either say, “That’s awesome!” or “Do you like that?”  People who say, “That’s awesome!” are totally correct.  Ok, sometimes it is stressful dealing with commuters who feel like you’re not slicing their prosciutto (paper-thin!  PAPER! THIN!) fast enough, because they have to catch a train.  But sharing my love of cheese with the masses is a lot of fun, and something I believe in.

Sometimes I tell people that if I weren’t a cheesemonger, I would probably be a doctor, because I think it’s really noble to heal people.  I’ll never be a doctor, though, because I can’t even listen to people talk about giving blood.  Please don’t say the phrase “donate plasma” around me.  Anyway, I think being a cheesemonger is a noble thing, too.  Cheesemaking is an ancient craft that connects us to the earth, to the animals who produce the milk, and to the people who craft that milk into something complex and delicious.  As a monger I get to connect people to this ancient tradition. Terroir!  Yummers!

I got into cheese from the farm-y end: before moving to New York I volunteered at a family farm in Colorado where I helped milk goats and cows and made butter and cheese.  I visited a cheese maker in Vermont last fall, and the odor in the cheese room during the make – warm, sour milk – broughts back a lot of fond memories for me.   I also got a little experience aging cheese at Haystack Mountain Goat Dairy when my friend Leah worked there (taste the Rockies!).  When I had a desk job as a consultant in Denver I would read books about goat farming and the cheese industry on the bus to work.  I went from clicking around on a computer to slinging cheese for the most influential specialty cheese purveyor in the country (next, The World…).

Career mathematics: mongering > consulting.  Maybe some day I’ll have my own goat farm and make farmstead cheeses.  As I know from my reading, though, as a dairy farmer, you have to be a part-time veterinarian.  So maybe I’ll be a doctor after all.

Robin Minkoff is a cheesemonger at Murray’s Cheese in Grand Central Terminal as well as a merchandising specialist for our Kroger outposts. Not even lactose intolerance can stand in the way of her love of cheese.

Bacon wrapped anything is just plain good. Wrap bacon around a scallop and you have an impossibly delicious land-meets-sea cocktail party morsel. Cover a chicken liver in bacon and you can make an offal-hater on a diet believe “fat meets fat” is a good thing (Fat is not a bad thing, by the way, but that’s a topic for another blog).

I started at Murray’s 3 months ago and one of my first assignments was to make our Bacon Wrapped Dates. I was quickly reminded of how much I adore bacon wrapped things when I pulled the first batch from the oven and – for professional reasons of course – popped one in my mouth.

The first rush is the smoky-salty perfection that is bacon, freshly sliced Nueske’s slab bacon to be precise. The bacon is wrapped around a plump Medjool date which any oven magically transforms into a gooey sweet candy. And here comes the kicker: inside the date is a creamy, tangy oozing bite of Bucheron goat cheese AND a surprising, pleasant crunch thanks to a single Marcona almond.

Crunchy, creamy. sweet, and salty – all in one bite. There isn’t a thing missing from this 3-D style hors d’oeuvres experience. It’s like a study in contrast of flavor and texture, I kid you not. Salty. Sweet. Creamy Crunchy. Want to make them? Of course you do. Lucky for you it’s incredibly easy. So get going, and bon appetit!

Bacon-Wrapped Dates     makes 10 pieces

10 Medjool dates (the large ones), pit removed with a paring knife

10 slices bacon (sliced thin)

10 whole marcona almonds

8-10 oz Bucheron

1. Preheat your oven to 350 degrees.
2. Gently push 1 ounce of cheese and one almond inside each date. Squeeze the cut section of the date together. The natural stickiness will serve as a seal when you press the sides together and will help keep the cheese from oozing out.
3. Lay a bacon strip down long ways and roll the date into the bacon.
4. Place the dates on a baking sheet. If you have a wire cooling rack, place it on top of sheet pan and bake on this so the fat drips through the rack.
5. Cook in the middle of the oven for 12-15 minutes, until the bacon is crisp.
6. Dates will be hot! Let cool thoroughly to at or near room temperature before serving.

Michele Pulaski is a consulting chef at Murray’s Cheese. She has a way with words and can’t resist a colorful scarf.

BEER ME

Beer and cheese. The perfect pairing? Potentially. Better than wine and cheese? Undeniably, and we aren’t just saying so because St. Patrick’s Day is on the horizon. A wise man once told us that cheese and beer are the same: both are made from grass processed by animals for our (delicious) consumption, and both are ancient methods of preservation. If you’re unconvinced, try this mental exercise: Think of your favorite cheese, and the creamy rich texture that coats your mouth. Then imagine a glass of crisp, lightly effervescent,  golden-brown lager. There, now you get it.

BEST BETS: TIPS FOR CHOOSING BEER AND CHEESE 

When pairing cheese and beer, it’s important to stay away from super hoppy beers. You may love that eye-watering Double IPA, but it’ll overwhelm any cheese you want to munch with it. Stay closer to the malty side of the fence: Stouts, bocks, ambers and pilsners. Stouts and porters are particularly cooperative, as their roasty-toasty character works well with many cheeses.

On the cheese side, go for cheese that will stand up to your beer. Delicate cheeses are easily overwhelmed, so you wouldn’t pair these with anything too intense. Texture-forward cheeses, such as Fromager d’Affinois or a triple crème can get lost against even the mildest of beers. Instead, think alpine-style, washed-rinds, and thistle rennet options – in other words, stuff with serious flavor.

WHAT WE LOVED

Alpine cheese, such as Comte or Gruyere (cave-aged for sure), pairs well with a rich Stout. The roasted character of the stout, which can frequently have notes of chocolate or coffee, marries perfectly with the sweet, caramelly, cooked milk of an alpine cheese. This weekend we tried a few new beer and cheese combos. Our favorite pairing was Spring Brook Tarentaise with Two Brothers North-Wind Imperial Stout, the fruity American alpine mixed delightfully with the clean notes of the Stout. And for a truly seasonal treat, you can’t do much better than our new, limited edition Cavemaster Reserve Across the Pond. It’s washed in stout, so beer is its natural companion – get it while it lasts!

The best thing about beer is that it’s a wonderfully forgiving accompaniment, so DO try this at home. As long as you take care to match flavor intensity odds are you’ll have a delicious duo. Throw some cured meats, olives, nuts or dried fruit alongside, and dinner is served.

Caitlin Griffith is a cheesemonger at our Bleecker Street store, and in a few months she’ll boast a MA in Food Studies from NYU. Things she enjoys in excess: wine, radishes, list-making, garlic, and salt water.

Kevin Brooks is head monger at Bleecker Street and also shares his merchandising expertise in Murray’s Kroger outposts. His iPod is full of metal, and his brain is full of thoughts on beer, burritos, and Settlers of Catan.

SEAN KELLY, Cheesemonger, Bleecker Street

I used to work in publishing. Not the kind of publishing that enabled me to read a bunch of great, interesting work from rising new writers (though the unsolicited manuscripts my company received were almost always insanely entertaining), but rather the more obscure realm of academic publishing. I would work with books on areas of anthropology I had no idea existed, medieval poetry, renaissance philosophy and a range of other subjects that have since slipped my mind. When I first began, I made an effort to read some of the works I was dealing with. After about thirty pages on the history of Newark parochial schools, I promptly gave up. The more I worked with these books, the less I felt I knew about them; and the fact that about one third of them were written in languages that I don’t speak certainly didn’t help things.

A few years later, desperately needing a change of scenery and wanting to do something a little off the beaten path, I applied for an internship working in the caves here at Murray’s. It seemed to make sense: I had been a long time customer, loved cheese and had heard from many a friend who had graduated college and moved into the job market that employers appreciate a few interesting additions to a resume. So I started taking care of cheese. I made the rookie mistake of wearing a pair of shorts my first day (I insisted that I wasn’t too cold, but I was freezing and probably looked really dumb). I left work dirty and smelling like cheese, and, much to the dismay of my fellow subway riders, wore it as a badge of honor. I took to it pretty quickly.

Several months into the internship, I had developed an affinity for different types of mold. I began to love the smell of a room full of washed rind cheese. I realized that this was different than anything else I had done before. Obviously, none of my previous jobs had involved racks and racks full of cheese, but there was a much more important difference here. Unlike the shelves of French literary theory that I used to deal with, the racks of cheese in front of me made me want to know more about them. They were living, changing things that everyone could experience in a different way, and they could turn out beautiful or horrendous with just the slightest modification. I thought about this most when I worked with the Loire Valley cheeses, namely the lovely little Valencay pyramids. Watching a lump of fresh goat cheese turn into an aged, mature creation, carefully picking mold off of it all the while, made me feel connected to the thing that I was working with in a way I had never felt before. I got excited about it, and felt like I needed to tell other people about it.

My friends seemed to get tired of my constant rambling on about butterfat and bloomy rinds, so I suppose it was a good thing for myself and those around me that I moved up to the counter at Murray’s when my internship concluded. From a bookcase to a cheese case, I finally found something I could work with and want to understand. Of course, it certainly helped that understanding came from eating instead of reading this time around. I’m better at eating, anyway.