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I love food. I love talking about food. I can spend hours discussing the merits of different mustards, or trying to figure out the mystery flavor in a pasta sauce. But I think food should be accessible. It should not be intimidating. I avoid saying things like ”flavor profile”. I am more likely to say things like, “This gravy is so good I want to fill a jacuzzi with it and jump in naked.”
My dislike of culinary pedantry can probably be traced back to the family dinner table. My brothers are all wine snobs, oh, sorry, I mean connoisseurs. It always annoys me when they get out their wine gadgets and start arguing. They throw around terms like peppery finish, a nice mouth feel, and notes of raspberry. It sounds so pretentious.
I was excited when cheese shops started opening up all over town; it could only mean new flavors, and new things to talk about. Up until now, making a cheese plate had always been pretty standard – one soft, one medium, one hard and one bleu. Easy peasy. Brie, Jarlsberg, a good Pecorino. But since I am not a big fan of bleu cheese, I usually substitute something like a smoked gouda. Throw a bunch of grapes on the plate, and voila.
With the recent profusion of cheese shops, things have gotten a little more complicated. No problem. The cheese shops in Silverlake have always approached it, like, “Isn’t this fun? Let’s explore the fabulous world of cheese together!” They have the natural enthusiasm of a true hobbyist showing off their collection. So I have learned more about sheep’s milk vs. goat’s milk, and the richness of triple crèmes. I have fallen in love with their precious little artesanals. Who can resist a cute round of goat cheese wrapped in grape leaves and tied up with string?
But things are starting to get out of control.
Today I walked into a cheese shop in Beverly Hills. I asked the man behind the counter, “Are you familiar with Purple Haze?” He said, “Yes. WE don’t carry THAT one.” He said it as if I had asked for Velveeta (And I’m not knocking Velveeta. Velveeta has its place). Was he really scoffing at me? I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman . Was I going to have to call in Richard Gere just to buy some fucking cheese? The cheese man stared at me impatiently. I said, “OK then, I’d like something soft, maybe a triple crème, and something medium, kind of nutty. I don’t mind if it’s feet-y, but I don’t like it cave-y.” He stared at me as if I were speaking Martian. I became flustered. I tried to clarify, “You know, cave-y, cave-aged. I don’t like it when the cheese is black.” He nodded at me suspiciously, but returned with three different cheeses, from which I selected two.
While my cheese man wrapped up my order, the other counterman and the guy next to me were talking about sports cars; their smoothness, their power, their sleekness. I wasn’t really listening to them, but it was hard to ignore their fervor. They got louder and louder, more and more intense. They were in a full-on pissing contest when I heard the cheese man challenge the customer, “Come on, step up to the plate.” The customer was shocked, “Step up to the plate? Did you just tell me to step up to the plate?” They locked eyes and their nostrils flared. My cheese man tried to intercede by offering the customer a sample of one of my selections. But the customer kept his eyes firmly locked on his cheese man's eyes. He didn't even blink. He was in a stand-off. Slowly I realized what was going on. All this testosterone, all this one-up-manship. They had not been talking about sports cars at all. They were talking about CHEESE.
(Photo by Elise Thompson for LAist)
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Velveeta has it's place alright - on a high shelf, behind the forgotten jar of pickles. Because cheese -- oh, sorry, "process cheese food spread" -- that can be kept almost indefinitely at room temperature is just bizarre.
My favorite cheese - anything that smells like stinky socks. That's what I ask for when I'm looking for cheese recommendations at the cheese counter. The stinkier, the better. Usually.
I too have been spoiled by a cheese shop that makes cheese down-to-earth. The Artisan Cheese Gallery is a family run joint, where they want you to taste new things and let you try a little bit of everything before you decide. I think these new shops are trying to bring us a slice of Italy or France and return us to and era of costumer service that only our parents remember. And then....Beverly Hills once again ruins it all.
D'affinois (i think its a triple cream brie) is by far my favorite, and they usually sell it at whole foods. If we're getting pretentious, L'epoisse is the strongest that I know of...Good god am I hungry.
One of the more interesting shops I've seen is in the valley at Laurel Canyon and Ventura. They opened it up right next to a weed dispensary. Behold the power of the high-class munchie =)
i love love love cheese... but am a little wary of cheese shops for the reasons you've so hilariously relayed in your post.
my favorite is Humbolt Fog, and the best i've had came from the Cowgirl Creamery in the Ferry Building in San Francisco. locally i've always liked getting cheeses from Monsieur Marcel's--the french market inside the Farmer's Market.
i would, however, love to take a cheese tasting class. any cheese shop proprietors who run tastings out there who'd like a write up on LAist, give me a holler! :)
I've never been to the cheese shop in Beverly Hills but I'm told it comes closest to a NYC-style cheese shop, which is a good standard to aspire to. But, as powerful as my mania is for cheese, I can't accommodate the parking rigamarol anywhere west of Vermont these days. These days my mania is directed at Machos Tacos in Los Feliz which involves a bicycle to get there.
As for the two cheese shops near me in Silver Lake (one on Sunset Junction and the other next to Trader Joe's on Hyperion,) I found them to be disappointing because of the meager selection compared to say, Murray's or Fairway in NYC. My reaction the first time I walked onto each of them was, "This is it?! Where's all the cheese?." But that was a couple years ago, not too long after I moved to LA.
From the sound of this post it seems things may have blossomed. Maybe it's time I check them out again.
Speaking of good mustards, I think the best I've had is from Le pain Quotidien.
My one place for Velveeta: Mac and cheese. You can only taste the sharp cheddar in the finished dish, but I mix 1/4 stick of butter, 3 oz. of cream cheese and 3oz. of Velveeta into the hot noodles before I layer them with sharp cheddar.
In Silver Lake, the cheese shop attached to Alcove is good for such a small one.
I bought the baguette to go with these cheeses at Le Pain Quotidien. Too bad I didn't have the tip on the mustard yet. Next time.