COOKING IN: Vacherin cheese is coming into its own now. Try it raw, rather than baked, writes Hugo Arnold.
Seasonality is something I associate with vegetables more than anything else. The season for asparagus and strawberries has to come to an end, otherwise we would become bored with them. Pheasant is delicious, but not all year; and figs, while they have been a delight over the past eight weeks or so, do start to lose their appeal. But seasonality in cheese? Tell me another one.
The first time I served Vacherin was at a supper party. The cheese was a large one, and having levered it out of the box with some difficulty, it started to flow slowly over the plate like lava. Panic set in and I tried to contain it with some cheese biscuits. This didn't work, and the cheese kept flowing until it found its own level, thankfully just short of the edge of the plate.
The consistency of ripe Vacherin is somewhere between thick yoghurt and proper double cream. It comes from the French Comté and is only made in autumn and winter - the season for this delicacy starting in September and tailing off in March.
The billowy surface of the cheese runs from straw yellow to pink and gold and is surrounded by a collar of spruce bark, whose resinous aroma and flavour permeate the cheese. A well-kept Vacherin has a sweet, nutty, fruity aroma, with a full and rounded flavour.
Buy this cheese too young, or when it has not been brought on properly, and the interior is pale and creamy in colour, firm, with tiny holes. The flavour is slight, the whole experience relatively unexciting.
Buy well, and eating it is a memorable experience. Gently peel away the bark, taking care not to puncture the skin; the river of cheese will start to flow if you do. Then scrape off any crusty bits left on the bark and scatter them over the cheese. If you have an open fire, that is the best place to dispose of your bark. Its Vacherin-infused aroma will fill the room and lift any winter blues that may be lingering.