Le Franco Phoney

Something else that happened last weekend between the DONGing of church bells was a visit to some cheese caves. My friends who live there are in the cheese business (I love being able to say that), and one of them took us to the cheese caves where he himself matures the cheese. Cheese shops are one thing, but I have never seen so much cheese in one place in my life. The cheeses ranged from 10kg blocks of AOC Emmental to something Italian and going grey (apparently a good thing) in the corner, right through to cheese donuts which I don’t know the name of, and these lovely tiny cheese cones (photo taken by my friend Katie after I forgot to bring my camera). The cones and donuts were actually in a drying room, which smelt less pungent than the other caves. That’s not to say it didn’t smell: it’s just that the more humid caves were almost overpowering — and one of them was newly emptied, but still stunk.

Apparently, finding a good affiner de fromage is a hard task, so if you’re in the know when it comes to maturing cheese and you feel like a change of scenery to a little village in the middle of France, apply now! Anyone who can stand the enormous stink when standing in one of those caves all day has my respect. It reminds me of the time I went to the Savoyarde restaurant down the road that has the cows downstairs, with a glass roof for diners to look at them through. Despite the glass, the smell of the cows was very strong, and I could smell manure for days after . Thankfully, the smell of the cheese was not quite that bad. Still, I think I’ll leave it to the experts and those as passionate about cheese as my two friends are.