Sitting in my fridge, nestled next to the Mint Slices, are a lovely wedge of Machego and a ceramic pot full of stinky Stilton. I had all intentions of tasting them and blogging about their fabulosity this past week and a bit, but life and a bout of the flu got in the way. They will remain in the fridge for another few days as today I have decided to write about a cheese that changed my idea of what a cheese actually was. And this post is also a tribute to a little country that is close to my heart and again finds itself on the precipice of chaos.…
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It’s not ewe, it’s Brie…
Chagrined but not defeated, I returned to Jones the Grocer today and knelt at the altar of cheesy fabulousness. I bought another sliver of Truffle Brie as a replacement for the “lost” one, and was rewarded with a sample of another cheese, Fosseway Fleece. Truffle Brie is a departure for me. I am usually a cheese purist – that is someone who likes their cheddar without sage and their goats cheese without chives. But the lure of the earthy taste of truffle and brie is just too much. It’s pretty hard to overwhelm the taste of a good brie and those one manages to balance both strong flavors. It’s made…
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Who moved my cheese?
My grand plan to launch the blog with the much discussed truffle brie melted faster than a Kraft Single on white bread under the griller. I forked out close to $15 for a hunk of the prized cheese but somehow managed to lose it between the store and my house – it’s somewhere in Doha, stinking up a storm. I would like to hope it went to a good home. Sadly I think it was just thrown away. I had intended to share the brie with a French friend, a triumphant start to the blog. But instead had to confess my crime. And to a French person, losing any brie,…
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And so it begins…
It must start somewhere and why not with something extravagant? I braved the hordes at Jones the Grocer Doha today and purchased a hunk of truffle brie. That’s right. Brie infused with truffles. It could be heaven in a rind or play havoc with my self diagnosed IBS. Standby for the results of my endeavor.
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Tales from a life on the wedge
It’s pretty obvious to people that know me that I have an unhealthy obsession with cheese. All. kinds. of. cheese. Hard, soft, washed wind, stinky. French, Italian, Greek, Nepalese. Cow, goat, sheep, rice (lets talk about that later). Since I first discovered the healing qualities of a grilled cheese sandwich as a child, I have been in love with what is essentially, fermented milk. So why not channel this borderline obsession into something productive? Over a hunk of brie I hatched a plan. To combine travel, writing and a love of cheese. I was watching Survivor Philippines at the time, so I decided to throw in a challenge – discover…