Tomme Brulée: Blowtorches in the Cheese Cave

If you walk into a cheese shop and ask for Basque cheese, chances are you'll be led to Petit Agour or Petit Basque. Some wheels, made in small production batches, will be amazing. Others, made by larger companies in factories, are little more than pale interpretations of the real thing- like fat free cake with sugar free frosting, or roller blades instead of the four wheelers. But there's another sheep's milk that's escaped the Pyrenees that shouldn't be missed.

Tomme Brulée is Petit Basque burnt to another level.

Aged by Affineur Pascal Beillevaire, Tomme Brulée is a pint-sized sheep's milk cheese with a bruléed rind. But before it goes crispy, it starts out like many small Basque style cheeses.

First, the milk for Tomme Brulée (translates to burnt wheel) is cooked slowly so that the sugars caramelize a touch. Sheep's milk has its own characteristic sweetness, and cooking the milk at low temperatures brings out even more of the sugar inherit in it. Then, the curds are separated from the whey, the wheels are shaped, and drained. Next, the cheese is heavily pressed to create a rich, hole-free paste and left to age.

Then at some point in its aging process, it's burnt. I'm not exactly sure when it's bruléed, so if anyone knows, help a girl out. But at one point or another (I'm assuming a couple months after its left to mature) someone takes a blow torch to the rind and flambées it.

Now I don't know if you've ever have the opportunity to burn a brulée crust or handle a blow torch in a kitchen, but its pretty much one of the coolest thing one can do with a food product besides this. I mean, you have a blow torch. And you are turning sugars into a hard crust that someone will joyously break with a spoon or, a blistering a rind that transforms a shepherds cheese into a cheese oddity. Sometimes the blow torch is huge too and you feel amazing holding it. You probably look great too (wink wink).

And the flavor? Well, honestly, it's really similar to a Petit Agour or Petit Basque. But it has an extra little smokey, caramel kick. Like the cookies of my my ex-in-laws made with a cigarette between her lips at Christmas time (but, you know, a lot better).

I like this cheese with a Viognier or a creamier white with a touch of oak. It fares well on a cheeseboard, but its smooth paste is also great for melting.

Have you tried this burnt beauty before? What did you think?

Achadinha's Capricious- A Photo Tour

Let's start off with some straight talk- goat cheese haters can be found anywhere. Except for the slightly less satisfied look on their face that comes from consuming the shorter amino acid chains that are in goat cheese, they look like you and I. They walk like you and I. They even sound like you and I.

Yet they deny the goat its true dairy glory. Some say no to goat cheese all together. Some say no to certain styles, like fresh chevre, gouda, or very aged versions. But, dear readers, there is hope. All it takes is one goat cheese to open the door.

There are entire realms to be explored. And just maybe, maybe, if you're unsure what style of goat cheese you might like, Achadinha's Capricious is your door.

Today's post focuses on Capricious made by Achadinha Creamery. It is aged, crumbly, hard, peppery, herbal, and, a little fierce. Imagine a ripped, tattooed Parmesan in a boxing ring. Capricious takes no prisoners, and it makes no apologies. It's a goat cheese, and it's damn proud. And you, my cheesy friend (hater or not) should try it. It's a goat cheese that some chevre-haters love and a cheese that makes goats proud.

Below is a photo tour of a visit to Achadinha. My amazing photographer friend Molly DeCoudreaux took all these photos (she rocks). Achadinha is a family company run by the third generation dairy family, the Pachecos, in Sonoma.

Available in farmer's markets all over the California Bay Area, via Cowgirl Creamery shipping, and possibly at a cheese store near you. Have you tried Capricious? What did you think?

Gouda Ice Cream: What Not to Do

Inspired months ago by titillating 140-character cheese and dessert discussions on twitter, Pastry Chef Plinio Sandalio of Houston's Textile restaurant and I decided to collaborate on a gouda ice cream post. That is, he volunteered to supply a recipe and I would make it to the best of my dessert abilities.

Because cheese ice cream recipes on the net had been whispering sweet nothings to me for months, when I heard that I could have one of Plinio's creations in my own  little, cheese-ripened hands, I said yes. Instantly.

Without further ado, here is a definitive list about what not to do when an outstanding pastry chef gifts you with the keys to a gouda ice cream palace, then, Plino's five-star recipe.

Gouda Ice Cream: What  Not to Do

1. Don't worry about that the last time you used your ice cream maker, you weren't sure if it was working properly. It was your grandmother's. Of course it works.

2. Forget that the pastry chef told you he used a 3 yr old gouda and buy a 4 yr old cow's milk gouda instead. Oops. A little intense. And don't think about using a goat's milk gouda, which would have lent a tangy, lively character to the sweet ice cream. Who needs a pesky flavor layer?

3. Depend upon your old strainer to extract the salty, caramelly gouda chunks from the custard base. Screw using a restaurant-quality chinois, cheese cloth, or butter muslin fabric. Everyone loves a chunky cheese ice cream. Yes?

4. Ignore the directions on the ice cream maker to freeze the results for at least an hour before consuming. It's much more fun when the dessert melts before it arrives to your mouth. You gotta catch it dripping off the spoon that way, works off all that cream!

Gouda Ice Cream

1 1/2 cups sugar

1 1/2 cups milk

2 cups heavy cream

1/4 cup light corn syrup

1/2 tsp salt

pinch xanthan gum

12 oz aged gouda

Whisk all together in a large sauce pan and heat slowly over low heat. Do not boil. Continue cooking on low until the custard base is thick enough to lightly coat a wooden spoon. Remove from heat.

Blend mixture in a food processor or blender until very smooth. Strain through a fine chinois, or with a sieve lined with butter muslin to remove all chunks.

Chill completley.

Freeze according to ice cream maker's instructions.

Eat

* I didn't have time to play around with the recipe much, but because the flavor of aged gouda is so strong, all 12 oz isn't really needed. You might be able to get by with only 6 or eight ounces. Let me know!

* Please leave updates on this post if you try this or variations of the recipe. I'd love to know how things went!