Spruce and Pseudomonas

Blimey, I could hate Americans. But not for any other reason than Hervé Mons has a promotion on at the moment with Gabeitou. It’s a delectable cows and sheeps milk cheese with a vegetal flavour and texture not dissimilar to Morbier. But in preparation for the promotion we have been taking all the farmers’ production for the last few weeks and maturing it so it will be ready to start sending to America next week. Tastes lovely, looks great, but over 600 to turn, change the spruce boards, and wash every week, on top of our normal workload of cheeses to manage - you had better like it, America!

The spruce boards on which our cheeses rest are an important feature in a top affineur’s cave. Although not cheap (and not light!) they have a natural biofilm, which is encouraged here by our cleaning methods, which keeps bad bacteria at bay whilst allowing the cheese to breathe. On the subject on ‘good’ versus ‘bad’ bacteria (perhaps a future George Lucas film?), I asked how they maintain the balance (which is regularly checked). A classic French answer - “good products”; but from my experience of working here I know it is also because of how we pay attention to cleaning (there is no fumigating kill-all here!), the components we use to aid different bacteria (e.g. straw, paper, wood, stone, steel), humidity, temperatures and air flow; in fact the caves have established a natural perfect atmosphere after 40+ years of having the world’s finest cheeses resting in them - so much so that when they created the new tunnel they transferred hundreds of cubic metres of air from the age-old caves to help start it off.

The regular checking of each cheese ensures those that could cause problems are quickly removed. In-between my regular cheese flipping and turning, something caught my eye - a batch of Selles sur Cher - but nuclear neon green. The quality control manager (Eric) examined them with a knowledgeable look, simply shrugged in a Gallic way, and said “Pseudomonas”. A bacterial problem caused at the milking parlour or production site. So I thought I’d dig deeper - was it a common problem? How does he deal with it? What are the common problems? He smiled (a knowing smile that a master gives their apprentice when the world is complicated and unfortunately there isn’t a simple one-sentence answer). As he begrudgingly placed the Selles sur Cher in the bin he explained that everyday posed a new problem; the wonders of artisan and small farm production lead to better flavours and interesting cheeses, yet also small daily problems because the methods of farm production are not controlled like those of larger efficient cheese-producing factories. Experience here seemed to be the key; the ability to identify the problem and continuous dialogue and visits to the small producers work brilliantly; and this is evident with the next batch of Selles sur Cher, which sits there content in its cave with no trace of the nuclear neon green - problem solved.

All is still going well here at Mons, I’m getting to taste an amazing array of different cheeses also at different ages, determining when each has affined to its peak; my palate is improving and my knowledge is increasing.

The master fromager of Fauchon (a famous Paris Boutique) stayed with us for a few days and that was thoroughly interesting: although he has only been in the industry a few years, his knowledge and ability to explain tastes is impressive, as good as any sommelier I’ve ever worked with. He came to study and converse with Hervé for a week as he has entered the competition for MOF (Meuilleur Ouverier de France) this year. The competition awards craftsman of France who excel in their field and is only given every four years (Hervé was the first ever recipient for a fromager/affineur). I looked at the guidelines and it’s like running the gauntlet; the French I work with even call it “running the challenge”: the depth of knowledge as well as the quality of products, cutting and presentation is immense. But I’m English - as my test I’d rather chase a piece of Gloucester cheese down a hill.

This weekend, to increase my cheese knowledge, I biked up to a nearby hill farm called Bois Blanc. I was greeted by Yves, a rustic French goat herder. On what was an amazing afternoon we started by chatting over his table in the farmhouse, about life, geography (and, importantly, cheese) before walking up the hill to see his small herd of goats. He has a range of breeds (naturally he affectionately points out his favourite animals), letting them graze freely on his grass which is full of herbs, flowers and wild grasses, all of which add a great flavour to the milk which is passed on to the cheese.

He milks the goats everyday, and then uses the milk to produce a small amount of farmhouse cheese in his little shed. This cheese is then sold on at markets and through local shops (including the local Mons shops), but only in small quantities as he barely has enough to sell (between 20-30 of these petit cheeses a day!)

The cheeses are a great expression of affinage, from his young just-set cheese (about 3 days) to his affiné (about a month old). They really tell a story of Yves’ farm’s terroir, goats and cheese-making techniques. Tasting the different cheeses is like tasting a tangible expression of time - you get a real sense of how affinage works. Everyone has a favourite age for their cheese, as the texture, taste, appearance and smell changes as time passes. These cheeses were mild, with only a delicate hint of goat flavour, and a lovely creamy freshness in the young, contrasting with a nice bite to the affiné.

Yves is a true artisan farmer in the real sense of the word; it was a pleasure to visit.

PS

I went back. I couldn’t help myself. Yves invited me to spend the day making cheese with him - how could I refuse passing the time with a big Frenchman making cheese in a shed no bigger than a cupboard. We were certainly going to get to know each other, if nothing else!

First we chucked yesterdays cheeses into the bin - a storm had arrived the day before and the change in air pressure, electrostatic fields, humidity and temperature had rendered the whole days batch useless.

Then we added the ‘petit lait’ to that morning’s milk and let it ferment for 20 hours. ‘Petit lait’ (or lactosérum) contains bacteria which starts the fermentation, changing lactose sugars (in milk) into lactic acid, and forming important flavours as it helps to form the curds. Most cheesemakers use freeze-dried or commercially made starters, but Yves, in the true spirit of capturing his terroir, uses his own bacteria from a ‘petit lait’ he creates at the beginning of the milk season by essentially letting the milk go off. This ‘petit lait’ is used for the first batch at the beginning of the season, for every subsequent production he uses a bit of leftover curds and whey (from the day before) to start the process off.

As the goats’ animal husbandry is fantastic, the unpasteurised milk poses no problems. By letting it naturally ferment he uses all the natural bacteria remaining present (usually killed by pasteurisation). This means he captures the true natural flavours of his land - the only thing he adds to his cheese that he doesn’t make himself is salt. However, it also means the cheese varies vastly in taste, flavour and texture; the production and affinage must be altered accordingly.

We had two buckets of goat milk from the same day’s milking - for some reason (Yves answer to my query was a Gallic shrug) one had formed a hard curd and the other much softer. So we carefully scooped the hard curd to form a base in the mould followed by a topping of soft. Yesterday’s cheeses were un-moulded, flipped, and salted; with a flick of the wrist that was best left to professional (when I tried, I managed to cover everything in the room with salt!)

While the moulds drained we took a break: a piece of fresh cheese wrapped in a salad leaf, so simple, so delectable! Over the next 2 hours continuous topping up of the cheese moulds took place, as they drained. After that our work was done, ready to start all over again the next morning.

The Caves...

After a successful first month working with the affinage experts at Mons I thought I better explain the layout of Mons and each of the caves here and what they do. To start there is a huge refrigerated receiving area where the cheeses arrive everyday to be processed. Everything arrives here, from huge Mountain wheels to small little apérichèrve cheeses, no bigger than a thimble. Some of the cheeses arrive with a fully formed rind (having aged a bit in local conditions to pick up local flavours and according to some appellation regulations), whilst others come barely a day old. They are then processed and sent to the correct room.
Those with delicate fresh skins are gently handled and transferred to the drying room (with a higher temperature and lower humidity), where they will harden and form rinds to ensure even maturing. Their mould growth is patted down (a mere rub is a fatal mistake which can remove the beginnings of a rind). From here each individual cheese is inspected, turned, touched, squeezed and pinched everyday until the nod is given and it can be given the chance to graduate to its appropriate ageing cave.
Hervé has four such caves as well as an old railway tunnel. This old bricked up tunnel provides ideal humidity and temperature beneath the ground for cheese, becoming a haven for it - over 90 tonnes of cheese are stored here (you’d feta believe it! – sorry) All of these cheeses must be turned (by hand) every week; as well as examining, scrubbing, brushing, wiping, washing, turning, wrapping, rewrapping each cheese according to it’s needs. But that’s not it! There are the other caves, holding even more cheese, you can tell its France!
The caves vary in humidities, temperatures, air flow and atmosphere to match the needs of the cheeses and maximise their flavour and texture. With their natural earth and stone floors, and a natural spring nearby (they have no need to regulate the humidity due to this natural source of water) the cheeses look at home here –the giant mountain wheels inhabit one cave resting on sagging spruce boards (here for two years or more), another holds the petit goats cheeses, with the rustic rinded tomme’s residing in a third. All the other cheese facilities I have visited seem so purpose built compared with this idyllic cheese haven and the taste of the cheese’s here confirms Hervé and his family’s skill.
Each day the cheese is checked and moved according to their level of affinage. Hervé says “It’s crucial to find the peak age for each individual cheese, they’re living products and react differently everytime”. Watching him work makes it seem a simple art: tasting and checking each cheese, but greater scratching away of the surface reveals the great depth of knowledge required: cheese-production methods; cave dynamics, animal health, breed and husbandry, grazing pastures, the seasons, microbiology, the differences in look, taste and smell of cheese, as well as changing consumer trends in each country he sells in. Hopefully I will be able to at least gleam a bit of this knowledge in the next few months to take back to Britain.

Starting out at Mons - Cheesy Beginnings

After travelling down the country sampling France's gastronomic delights I thought I better do some work: I turned up, stylishly early, at Hervé Mons Fromagerie near to Roanne. Nervously I waited, the smell of cheese drifting up my nose. I saw someone arrive so ran over to them calling out "Eric! Eric!" (the name of my contact with Mons). In a typically Gallic way he just looked at me said "Non, je ne suis pas Eric" and walked away and I sheepishly returned to my car. Five minutes later another car pulled up so again I ran over looking like a lost sheep bleating for its mother. "Eric?" I demanded. The man looked me up and down and said I can get you Eric, but I'm not him. I all of a sudden went off him, but helpfully enough he managed to get in contact with Eric and confirm he was on his away. As the man left I asked his name and he looked at me and said Hervé Mons. Oh great!

Eric arrived a few moments later and was very helpful, showing me around their impressive cheese caves (I could feel my excitement brewing already) before taking me to my accommodation - a fantastic typically French house in the middle of the sleepy mediaeval village of St Haon le Chatel, where I have now become 'the outsider'.

So my apprenticeship commenced here. I turned up the next morning to be introduced to all my colleagues (whose names I promptly forgot in the excitement) and was directed to some cheeses I recognised . Tomme de Savoie, Crayeuse, Persille du Malzieu. "Flip and brush these," my new boss instructed. Several cheesy hours later, I was done. So he gave me some more to flip and brush, if his French accent wasn't so endearing I might have considered refusing, but I continued till the end of the day.

Day two was a little more exciting, I started by learning a bit more about how to handle the cheeses when they arrive - where to put them, and how to treat each cheese individually - whether it needed drying, to get more moist, or firming up, and which of the four caves was best for it, as well as whether paper, spruce wood or straw would aid it's development best. However, just to make sure I didn't get above my station, they gave me a few more cheese to flip (I think that's what I'm going to make my future children do if they're ever naughty).

At the end of the first week I was having a good time, although I'd flipped enough cheeses to keep a Frenchman happy for a few weeks at least. As well as learning a fair bit about their techniques here at Mons, my French language is also improving. I also got to meet Hervé's brother, Laurent: another talented individual whose passion seems to be cheese. It's weird around these people... I don't feel such a cheese geek.

Week two was much more interesting - I thought I had become a master cheese flipper until I saw Fred, who's worked all his life flipping the mountain cheeses (35kg+) as if they are made of air. Throughout the week I picked up lots of tips and tricks about affinage, best practice, and how to treat cheese differently and promote or stop bacteria growth, and I spent so much time wiping mould off a certain cheese that when I blew my nose, even my tissue got mouldy - there is a first time for everything!

It helps that my foreman, Gerome, is very useful. Although typically French (he almost went through the roof when he found out I still eat porridge everyday), he has a great sense for the cheese, knowing what they're like and what to do in any case of any event; he is a mine of knowledge! I must try and smuggle him back to England.

This third week I worked more on receiving the cheeses: they arrive everyday from hundreds of small producers throughout France, and each producer is individual, as is each cheese batch that arrives. It can even be affected by the cheese producer nipping out for a brew whilst making the cheese - that could slightly alter the final make up which means we need to treat it differently to get the best out of it. So when each batch arrives it is checked over and then transferred to the appropriate ageing material and cave.

More about each cave in the next blog.

How it all started

I grew up in a dairy-farming community in Northern England and can still remember milking my first cow! My grandparents all produced their own cheese and it was always taken very seriously in the community – my next-door neighbour’s sole job was to cultivate the bacteria for making the cheese at the factory down the road, and he’s still doing it now, 20 years on, at Appleby Creamery. From an early age I began to realise how wonderful cheese can taste when the whole process is executed with care.

After school I left England for France to work, which fueled my interest in food and all things nice! Consequently I decided to study for a BSc in Hospitality Management with Culinary Arts at Sheffield Hallam University, enabling me to study whilst all the while concentrating on fine food (who wouldn't?). As part of this I worked for over a year in The Balmoral Hotel's Michelin starred restaurant Number One. There I became further involved in cheese, taking responsibility for all the restaurant's cheese-oriented offerings, even making my own cheese (although you could break teeth on my Brie!). For my achievements at The Balmoral I won a national award (Young Guns).

After all this excitement I decided to run the Medoc Marathon through famous French vineyards. Here again I reconfirmed my love for cheese (and, naturally, wine), so I decided that once I'd finished, I'd immerse myself in all things cheesy. Consequently, I went to work for a brief period at London's famous Paxton and Whitfield Cheesemongers. Now, thanks to a scholarship from the Queen Elizabeth Scholarship Trust I'm off to learn from the famous Mons Fromagerie in France, followed by some studying with Anfopeil.