Uni Kaas Robusto
7.7.06
Don't know what prompted me to pick up this piece of cheese at Whole Foods, tonight, but it's wonderful nutty, saltiness was just what I craved. It brought back memories of St. Moritz and my year of chamber maiding/ski-bumming and serving these incredible raclette dishes to our hotel guests. Take a half wheel of this special emmantaler cheese, put it into a contraption that has a heater on top so the cross section of the cheese surface bubbles and melts, then swing the half moon to the side, tilt it and scrape off the melted cheese onto a plate with cornichons, boiled potatoes and crunchy green beans on it. Chase down with some Alpine wine and Jaagermeister, the digestif, not the town mayor and you have a wonderful ending to a day on the slopes.
I love how food brings back memories or even prompts fantasies of new experiences. I have yet to taste nopales, but perhaps while in Mexico I will have the chance. I toast a tortilla and imagine eating authentic Mexican food, when I rarely eat a taco here. I sip a glass of cold wine with my cheese and think of sitting in a cafe in Paris, which I haven't done in close to 20 years and I can feel the cobblestone streets, the press of the wicker back chairs, smell the Gaoulois all around me. I feel amost drunk just thinking about it and my glass is still half full tonight.
I love the traditions of foods as we share and pass them on; my daughter now shares my passion for peanut butter and chocolate bip (as I called them as a kid) sandwich. When sailing with my father, far from the Reeses peanut butter cups I so loved in my youth, we would search high and low for a tiny jar of Skippy in the supermarches wherever we were, get a milk chocolate bar, melt it on our tiny gimbled stove in the tiny galley, mix in the peanut butter and create our own pseudo Reeses brew. Hanah now loves this as well. Chinese food reminds me of my father, as he and I took a chinese cooking class together; rack of lamb is my mother, especially when served with asparagus and hollandaise sauce, the preparaton of which she took great pains to teach me. I really should shop more in farmer's markets and carnicerieas, to get food closer to the source and farther from styrofoam trays and plastic wrap. My bad as a harried mom.
But this cheese really has me hankering for a hike up an Alp, the rest of my bottle of wine, a crusty French bread and a thou. How lucky am I that I get to breathe these all in, as I crumble this bovine concoction on my tongue, savor its salty tang and let it schuss down my throat with a Chardonay slalom chaser.
Don't know what prompted me to pick up this piece of cheese at Whole Foods, tonight, but it's wonderful nutty, saltiness was just what I craved. It brought back memories of St. Moritz and my year of chamber maiding/ski-bumming and serving these incredible raclette dishes to our hotel guests. Take a half wheel of this special emmantaler cheese, put it into a contraption that has a heater on top so the cross section of the cheese surface bubbles and melts, then swing the half moon to the side, tilt it and scrape off the melted cheese onto a plate with cornichons, boiled potatoes and crunchy green beans on it. Chase down with some Alpine wine and Jaagermeister, the digestif, not the town mayor and you have a wonderful ending to a day on the slopes.
I love how food brings back memories or even prompts fantasies of new experiences. I have yet to taste nopales, but perhaps while in Mexico I will have the chance. I toast a tortilla and imagine eating authentic Mexican food, when I rarely eat a taco here. I sip a glass of cold wine with my cheese and think of sitting in a cafe in Paris, which I haven't done in close to 20 years and I can feel the cobblestone streets, the press of the wicker back chairs, smell the Gaoulois all around me. I feel amost drunk just thinking about it and my glass is still half full tonight.
I love the traditions of foods as we share and pass them on; my daughter now shares my passion for peanut butter and chocolate bip (as I called them as a kid) sandwich. When sailing with my father, far from the Reeses peanut butter cups I so loved in my youth, we would search high and low for a tiny jar of Skippy in the supermarches wherever we were, get a milk chocolate bar, melt it on our tiny gimbled stove in the tiny galley, mix in the peanut butter and create our own pseudo Reeses brew. Hanah now loves this as well. Chinese food reminds me of my father, as he and I took a chinese cooking class together; rack of lamb is my mother, especially when served with asparagus and hollandaise sauce, the preparaton of which she took great pains to teach me. I really should shop more in farmer's markets and carnicerieas, to get food closer to the source and farther from styrofoam trays and plastic wrap. My bad as a harried mom.
But this cheese really has me hankering for a hike up an Alp, the rest of my bottle of wine, a crusty French bread and a thou. How lucky am I that I get to breathe these all in, as I crumble this bovine concoction on my tongue, savor its salty tang and let it schuss down my throat with a Chardonay slalom chaser.
posted by Barbery at 8:55 PM
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