Blue may be a sexy and desirable colour whenever it comes to design and decoration, but in terms of food, in terms of cooking and eating, blue is a no-go area. In our minds, blue spells poison: just think of the apothecary's little blue bottles, with their patent concoctions, and the psychological state we associate with blue is, of course, melancholy. Hardly the stuff of the happy dinner table.
We are even slow to use blue crockery, and the vogue for blue bottles of Chenin Blanc and for mineral water is merely a recent, and rather self-conscious, trend. But in spite of this mental drawbridge in our culinary minds, let's spend a few weeks looking at some foods which are proudly and successfully - and deliciously - blue. And let's begin with one of the most exciting new Irish foods, Crozier Blue Farmhouse Cheese.
Crozier Blue is a family affair. When Jane and Louis Grubb hit upon the idea of developing a blue cheese made with sheep's milk to compliment their hugely successful Cashel Blue cow's milk cheese, they slowly and cautiously developed the means and the method along with their Tipperary cousin, Henry Clifton-Brown, who lives with his own family on their farm at Ballnamona, a few miles from Cashel and cross-county from the Grubb's farm at Beechmount, near Fethard. "I'm a typical farmer's son, and didn't really know what I wanted to do, and when Uncle Louis suggested this I thought it was ideal," says Henry.
The slow and steady pursuit of creating Crozier began about three years ago, by building up a flock of 150 cross-bred Friesiansheep and building a new milking parlour at the Clifton-Brown farm where Henry milks the herd, before driving the milk over to the Grubb's farm. Here, Crozier Blue is made in exactly the same way as Cashel Blue: Jane Grubb and cheesemaker Geurt van den Dickenberg, who has been making Cashel Blue with the family for almost a decade, firstly pasteurise the milk, then add the starter culture and penicillium roqueforti, which creates the blueing. The milk is brought to blood temperature in the cheesemaking vat, before the curd is decanted and placed in brining vats, a change from the old hand salting technique, and a method which the Grubbs say gives them greater consistency amongst the cheeses.
The major differences between the cheeses relate to the volume of milk needed it takes about three gallons of milk to make a Cashel Blue, but only about half of the volume of sheep's milk to make Crozier. Crozier is largely flavourless when young, while its sister cheese has a flavour straight away. Crozier will also be a seasonal cheese, as the sheep dry up in the autumn, after which the cheese will become relatively scarce until springtime. But, as the Grubbs point out, the age development of the cheese is completely different to Cashel Blue.
At about 10 weeks, the blueing of the Cashel is already much more intense then the blueing of the Crozier. At this age, the Crozier seems to me to be almost ideal: the cheese is not too creamy (which it becomes after another couple of weeks) and the texture is firm; the balance between blueness and saltiness is perfect, and I was reminded of some great hand-made Roqueforts which I have bought in Parisian cheese shops, and which are incomparably finer than the massproduced Roqueforts - usually too wet in texture - we find in most of our supermarkets. . .
If Louis and Jane Grubb's ambition was to create an Irish Roquefort, they have already ascended to the pinnacle of that style, attested to by first prize at the Nantwich Show in the UK.
Like Cashel, Crozier is a sublime cheeseplate cheese, its strength of flavour able to deal with the most assertive New World shiraz, its arresting assembly of creamysalty-sweet-sharp tastes a godsend for ageing claret and even for the sugary assault of a new world sweet wine (I know it sounds bizarre, but just try it). Already production has more than tripled this year on 1999's modest single ton of Crozier, and I would reckon the sky is the limit for this inspired new Irish cheese. These days, about 150 tons of Cashel Blue are produced annually on the Grubb's farm, an extraordinary volume of cheese for an operation which, though it has grown steadily in size during the last decade, remains firmly a farmhouse cheese.
The ability to balance volume of production with quality of production has ensured Cashel's reputation, and the fact that more and more of the cheese is now being sold when ripely mature - Superquinn buy lots of the cheese at 10 weeks old - shows also how the Irish as a cheese-eating nation have developed. Crozier, like Cashel Blue, is useful in the kitchen as well as on the cheeseboard. It would sit happily in a classic salad of blue cheese with pears and nuts, and here is an original idea from Joyce Molyneux:
Blue Cheese and Banana Filos
25g (1oz) Crozier blue, finely diced or crumbled
1 firm banana, peeled and finely diced
freshly ground black pepper
lemon juice
4 sheets of filo pastry
50g (2oz) butter, melted
Mix together the cheese and banana and season with pepper and a dash of lemon juice. Brush two of the sheets of filo generously with butter, and lay one on top of the other. Keep the remaining filo covered with a sheet of greaseproof paper, and over that a clean, damp tea towel, to prevent it drying out. Cut the double layer of buttered filo into eight strips (cutting widthways). Put a teaspoon of the cheese and banana filling in the corner of one end of each strip. Fold this corner down to the bottom edge, enclosing the filling. Then fold the filled bottom corner back to the top, and continue until the strip is folded into a samosa-like triangular parcel. Place on a buttered baking sheet. Repeat with the remaining filo and filling. Brush the triangles with any remaining butter, and bake in a preheated oven, 220C/425F/gas mark 7, for five minutes, until golden brown. Serve hot or cold.
Crozier Blue is available through specialist cheesemakers such as Sheridan's of Dublin and Galway and through major retailers.