St Felicien

Soft raw cow’s cheese from France, bought from Mons

St. Felicien comes in a shallow round wooden box. It has a wrinkled white and cream coloured, softly bloomy rind. When I cut into it I see exactly why it’s sold whole, in a box; it’s entirely liquid, and the creamy cheese puddles out of the rind. It’s the colour and texture of double cream. I fetch a spoon.

Creamy probably goes without saying, but this cheese is also surprisingly sour and bitter. It’s got both a lemonishness and a taste of soured milk. It’s also got a bit of herbal astringency, reminding me of thyme. It’s bitter in the aftertaste, and it leaves my mouth tingling. The rind (I have to fish a lump out of my sea of cheesy ooze) is creamier, if that’s possible, and softer and sweeter; it has nutty fudgey notes. The St Felicien is so oozy and liquid that I was rather expecting a slightly tart and funky cream, but it’s more complex than that, with a big contrast between the sweet creaminess and the bitter and sour ends of the cheese. It’s good!


Raw cows cheese, from France, bought from Une Normande à Londres

We have half of a small round of this for lunch. The rind is orange and white, mottled and pale and wrinkled. Directly under the rind it’s pale and soft and creamy. The middle of the cheese is slightly chalky.

The rind has a hint of pungent washedness, a hint of mushroom, and bit of plumminess. It prickles my mouth and throat. Further in, the saltiness of this cheese really kicks in. Nearer the rind it’s creamy and mushroomy, nutty and sweet and slightly toffee-ish, and intensly salty. The center is sharp and sour and intensely salty. Cheese-scoffing chum says that it tastes a bit of pickles. It reminds me of buttermilk. I like this, but I think I’d also like to try a slightly older version of it; I think it will turn stickier and oozy as it ages.