We've been home a month, but in that time we've recreated our recurrent Paris picnics several times, enjoying wonderful cheeses, baguette and wine, often a Sancerre or Muscadet, for dinner.There were at least 4 cheese shops within three blocks of the apartment we rented, including the famous Cantin cheese dynasty, now headed by daughter Marie Anne, one of the few companies in Paris which ages cheese in their own cave to the perfection their trained noses detect. http://www.cantin.fr/
I was a little intimidated by the store: instead of the cheerful profusion in other local cheese shops, each cheese was displayed on a separate stand in the temperature controlled room, like a Cartier jewel without the glass. Uniformed staff reverently cut each piece and wrapped it in Cantin labeled paper once they deciphered an approximation of what I was asking for, my French being non-existent. I found it hard to limit my selections; after all they had four kinds of Comte, my favourite gruyere. I only bought two, along with that king of cheese, Beaufort; a stinky Brie de Meaux; and two goat cheeses, young and old. The bill: high for France but better than Calgary.
Fresh chevre, however, was not sold at Cantin - it was available at every corner grocery store, along with creme frais, Brittany butter and lardons. Avec moi! (fake French expletive) What a country!
We were lovingly savouring the last of the Beaufort on the Chunnel train to London a week later. It will be months before Beaufort is available in Calgary, which we looked forward to across the coming cold of autumn with a rueful toast.
The moveable feast to be found in the other local ch
eese shops looked like this:
Amongst a long list of things I hope to return to Paris for, a far more thorough exploration of local cheese is one of them. Until then, I will keep my tastebuds trained and happy with locally found Piave, Vigneron, Chevre Noir and Vintage Gouda, ready for the next visit, deo volente.
