The Best of British
- Georgina Donatantonio
- May 28, 2020
- 4 min read
Updated: Jun 19, 2020
“We may be a small country, but we’re a great one too.” On the day that was meant to herald the ‘British Cheese Awards’, with many a nose (including mine) stuck into many a cheese, I present to you my personal favourites: the ‘Trinity’.
A few days ago, I commented to my South Carolina pen pal when asked ‘how is your day going?’, that I’ll discuss what we Brits do best: the weather. I plunged into a full and extravagant account of the mini heat wave Britain is currently experiencing, that, dare I say it, is leaving us in even more unprecedented times than 2020 has already fired at us.
But is my strengthening of this expectation - along with the stiff upper-lips, the prim & proper queuers, the intolerant apologisers - in fact doing discourtesy to our little Britain? “We may be a small country, but we’re a great one too.”
Britain is home to such an abundant selection of characterful and charming cheeses: from the classic crumblies, the positively pungent, the sharp & steely goats', to the moussey, citrusy notes of the fresh & youthful. During my Cheesemongering days at Fine Cheese Co. & Borough Market, I repeatedly experienced such mixed emotion. There was annoyance & anger at many a customer’s lack of want & openness to experience the beauty of British cheese, but this was so swiftly preceded by delight, pleasure, and “I told you so” at seeing their bias & opinion change.
On the day that was meant to herald the ‘British Cheese Awards’, with many a nose (including mine) stuck into many a cheese, I present to you my personal favourites: the ‘Trinity’. Yes, there are so many more I would love to display, so many more styles and so many more cheesemakers. To call this conclusive would be a complete dishonour, yet, in the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson, “moderation in all things… especially moderation”.
Cardo
What put Cardo (along with Tymsboro & Old Ford) into the hallmark of British goats' cheeses in which it finds itself? Was it the unpasteurisation of the milk? The midst of wild flowers & nettles that the goats fed on? Or was it Mary, the woman herself? Sleight Farm’s brave & respectful discontinuation of the big three, after Mary’s death in February 2019, hold a candle to the latter.
It was the beginning of December 2018 - when pubs were becoming adorned with hideous yet invigorating decorations, mince pie creations were becoming increasingly quirky, and carollers God blessed every merry gentlemen - that I first met Cardo. It is safe to say that a heated Christmas romance hastily began.
So, what was the allure? Why was I so attracted to him? First off, he was a confident washed-rind: unctuous, pungent & a head-turner. But it was the milk that most intrigued me. I already knew I was a stickler for a goats' cheese, but I had not yet experienced one in the washed-rind format. Cardo became hot - even more aromatic, sticky & clinging - whilst I carolled away, making me the receiver of many a reprimanding eye. When I finally got him home, he was sensational… tenacious, vegetal, with an irresistible butteriness and slight meaty undertones.
Both Cardo, and my other love, Tymsboro, were truly finest examples of 'the godmother of British goats' cheese'. “Remembering is easy. It’s forgetting that’s hard”.
Sinodun Hill
“They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered”. I love a good romance. Especially when I can sink my teeth into it. Sinodun Hill is the finest of creations by Rachel Yarrow & Fraser Norton, a couple who decided to give up their day jobs as English teacher & project manager, and, in 2014, dive headfirst, into a love for both each other… and their cheese.
Residing in Little Wittenham in Oxfordshire, Norton & Yarrow Cheese have two legacies under their belt: the Sinodun Hill & Brightwell Ash. And two creations that went down a treat when I was Cheesemongering at Borough Market. Perhaps a particularly strong selling point – as if taste & texture alone weren’t enough - was its suitability to vegetarians. The milk from their Anglo Nubian herd of goat’s is not heat-treated and remains raw, but the rennet that is used comes from the cardoon thistle, rather than being kid-derived.
But all of this is superfluous if it doesn’t reflect in the taste. The smallest fragment of Sinodun Hill, and one is transported to the dwelling of the original Trinity. Yoghurty, tangy, citrusy, creamy, with the distinct & distinguishable, love-it or hate-it, ‘goatiness’. Perhaps that is why it has remained as one of my top goats' cheeses for the past couple of years. So little is needed for this harmony of flavour to shine through. But, see for yourself… a taste is worth a thousand words.
Gorwydd’s Caerphilly
I know… we’ve seen this character before in my ‘National Fragrance Day’ post. But I would be a fool to let it slip under the radar, and not have it deserve a second mention.
It is the understated nature and subtlety of Gorwydd’s that awards it such charm & charisma. I used to brashly declare that I only liked the strong & stealthy cheeses. Anything less than a hard-hitter would bore me. Oh, the young G-G; an ignorant, yet happy fool. No cheese reminds me of the British landscape - its lush, green meadows, the fresh smell of grass after the rain, mushrooms in the woodland - more so than Caerphilly.
Part of the territorial family, and one of the ‘crumblies’, the Caerphilly I hold in my hand is aged for a month or 2 longer than the usual 8 weeks. Made by the Trethowan family, its understated and indirect scent is key to its ingenuity. It is not bold, not in-your-face, but its lactic, mushroomy, cave-like, lemony, and ultimately fresh aroma, is what made it take pride of place on my National Fragrance Day cheeseboard, and yet again today, on ‘The Trinity’.
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