The gooey, soft cheeses are excellent on their own or spread on toast. The hard cheeses (parmeggiano, pecorino, etc) entice pastas into superb new heights, awaken salads, and are intruguing on their own.
But what about the in-between cheeses, the medium soft, the ones that do not ooze but are sturdy, do not crumble but are moist? In my recent cheese renaissance, I had written these types off as lowly sandwich material, unworthy of being appreciated in their own right.
As I was flipping through The Cheese Primer, I saw quite a number of these types that Jenkins spoke quite highly of. I have so far relied on his taste, and have not been led astray. The next time I was at the cheese monger's, I decided to venture back into the world of the semi-soft. My pick: the mahon, a spanish cheese.
As Jenkins says, it's what gouda aspires to be. I cannot argue. The rind is a rather alarming orange colour, but the interior is golden and silky. One bite and the cheese yields its rich, creamy treasure. The taste is somewhat smokey, like a gouda, but only much more so. It is salty and powerful, best enjoyed in small bits (try nibbling on it, just like a mouse), but with a spicy piquant complexity. There are times when the essence reminds one of pine nuts, kind of a similar nasal quality to the flavor.
But despite its intensity, I still think it would be best as a sandwich cheese. Maybe a grilled sandwich, a croque monsieur (or perhaps more aptly crujido senor, since it is, after all, spanish). Or in a sandwich with a spicy arugula pesto.
I suppose it is simply a prejudice of mine to look down upon sandwich cheeses. There is nothing inherently lowly about them, nothing worthy of disdain. The opinion, I believe, stems on the idea that if a cheese is worth eating, it's worth eating plain, no frills or attachments. And this little mahon certainly fits into that category.
Posted by anne at July 24, 2003 11:09 AM | TrackBack