spring Archives | Page 2 of 2 | Murray's Cheese Blog

May 18, 2012

Azure Skies and Snowy-white Rinds

by Caitlin Griffith

At your next party – perhaps even celebrating the warm weather streak that we hope is here to stay – you absolutely need to serve a citrus-y Saison with a bloomy rind goat. Now, I am biased because farmhouse Saisons scream sunshine and warm weather to me. Give me a tangy straw-colored beauty any time of year and visions of verdant grass and azure skies swim before my eyes.

Before I become too mushy and emotional here, let’s revisit Saison history. In French, Saison means season, and originally the lightly hopped beer was brewed in the wintertime to be enjoyed during the late summer harvest. There was no refrigeration back in the day (cue entrance of cheese, which is milk’s leap toward immortality) and so the chilly winter months protected the bottle-conditioned brew from turning rancid. Perfect! This style is witnessing something of a revival right now and I, for one (if you couldn’t already tell) am psyched because of its excellence in pairing with food. Those French-speaking Belgian farmers were really on to something. Most Saisons boast a tartness and dry finish and many display citrus flavors, as well as a grassiness and biscuit-y yeast quality.

I tasted the Saison Dupont, arguably the world’s most famous and unmatched expression of a Saison, with hints of lemon, cardamom, clove, and pear, with one of my favorite goat’s milk cheeses, the Haystack Peak from Colorado. This pasteurized bloomy-rind goat is based on the pyramid-shaped goats from the Loire Valley in France but with an American spin. The snowy-white exterior hints at its milky, harmonious flavor. Its brightness is well-balanced by three distinct textures (thanks to time spent aging in Murray’s caves): a velvety rind, followed up by a delightful whisper of a creamline, and a pasty interior. The Saison Dupont and Haystack Peak danced all over my tongue in a sprightly tango that will light up the life of anyone interested in cheese and/or beer in the least bit.

Let’s not further complicate things here and say more than is necessary, as we already possess a flawless pairing, but throw in some nice crusty bread, whole grain mustard, and a log of the classic French Saucisson Sec and call it a day. Happy Spring!

April 16, 2012

Goat Cheese and Beer: Holler Bock at Me

by Kevin Brooks

Bock beers: Big, sweet, malty, rib-sticking beers that were originally made to wrap up the brewing season.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.”

April 6, 2011September 26, 2012

The Brie Syndrome

by Rob Kaufelt

Brie is in the air, or at least in the news – see The New York Times. What is old is new again this spring, in cheese as in all things. Brie has always been popular at Murray’s, it is a staple of our business, ever since the early importers first brought it from France to America in quantity without ruining it along the way, and Murray Greenberg brought it into his little shop on Cornelia St.

For the fact is, Brie is a delicate cheese. A bloomy rind cheese, a soft ripened treasure. If too young it lacks that luscious creaminess; if too old, it has that ammoniated taste and smell that put us off. Once upon a time, as Brie became more popular, it became less likely to come from France, and more likely to come from factories in Wisconsin and Canada. Somehow, these were never as good.

Worse, Brie is meant to be double creme, 60% butterfat, and more brie began to be sold that was only single creme, or 50%, which just doesn’t make it in the taste and mouthfeel department. (triple cremes, at 70%, are something else altogether).

But worst of all, we began to see it cut and cryovac’ed, with a long shelf life, suffocating in plastic, and so fewer Americans were having a real French brie moment anymore.

But Brie is back, and the real thing is finally becoming available in ever more locations. In our shops at Kroger markets in Atlanta, Cincinnati, and Texas, you can get the real thing, freshly cut from its large 2 or 3 kilo wheels, the large white discs sitting freshly unwrapped from their special paper ready for the monger’s wire.

Brie is meant to be eaten a point, at the point of perfection, perfectly creamy yet not over the top. We achieve this by storing the cheese we import in our French design caves beneath the streets of Greenwich Village.

Along with Brie, the comeback trail might include Brie’s infamous spinoffs, perhaps ready for respectability denied it in food and cheese circles. I’m speaking of baked brie, of course, Brie en Croute, which has given us a few laughs at Murray’s over the years. But now I’m not so sure.

Last year, while visiting a Kroger store in Ohio with Liz Thorpe, our Vice President who’s in charge of that program, a young chef in the store brought us her version of baked Brie: a little aluminum foil cup, filled with Brie, wrapped in an all-butter puff pastry. Needless to say, it was delicious, and the shops carried it for the holidays and it sold like crazy.

It was delicious: the melted brie oozing flavor with its salt mingling with the sweet fruit preserves, then baked with a golden brown crust. Could it be that a young midwestern chef discovered what an old New York cheesemonger (or the French themselves for that matter) would never admit: this was Brie at its best!