ANOTHER ASIDE SINCE I HAVEN'T HAD TIME TO COMPOSE A POST

The following was written  for a local magazine, so it doesn't read like a normal post. But I realized that I was neglecting my visitors and wanted to continue to give you a feel for the lay of the land. And so...

ROQUEFORT

   Regular visitors to this space will remember that Cathey and I are planning our retirement. We plan to retire to the south of France. To that end, we’ve bought a village house in the Languedoc region, not far from the Mediterranean, between Provence to the northeast and the Spanish border to the southwest.

   Eat your heart out.

   We say that we love the slow pace to life in the region, that the climate suits us, that there any number of historic sites and geographic features to investigate. Lies. All lies. It’s about the food. It’s about the wine. It’s about the traditions that surround them.

   Imagine that you are a shepherd living in the high country above the coastal plain that characterizes the Languedoc. It is the turn of the century – ten centuries ago. As you leave your hut in the morning to tend your flock, you wrap a crust of bread and a bit of ewe’s cheese in a swatch of homespun cloth for your lunch. You walk up hill to the high meadow on which your charges spend their days grazing on the new, bright green spring grasses.

   The morning is brisk at these heights, but as the sun rises high in the blue sky, the day turns warm, then hot. You seek refuge in the coolness of the mouth of a small cave. Suddenly, you spy a lovely young girl beckoning to you. She is irresistible. You follow her as she leads you across meadows, over ridges. She remains just out reach. You follow her for days until she finally disappears into the hills.

   You wearily return to your flock. You’re starving. You discover that bit of cloth. The bread is covered with blue-green fur. The cheese looks like no other cheese that you have seen before. It retains a generally light, creamy color but running through it are veins of that blue-green color that we know today is indicative of the mold penicillium roqueforti. You are not timid. You take a taste. The unique cheese known as Roquefort is born, to be savored by the likes of Ira and Cathey and Charlemagne.

   It’s a great story. More than likely, that shepherd simply forgot his lunch one day, found it some time later. Whatever the truth, Roquefort exists.

   The French control the use of the names of their cheeses with equal vigor as they do their wines. To be entitled to be called Roquefort, a cheese must be made from the milk of certain breeds of ewes raised in defined regions on defined feeds, milked at defined times. Special loaves of bread are baked to produce the proper mold and care is taken to avoid ‘bad’ molds. The penicillium roqueforti is introduced during the cheese-making process. The cheese rounds are pierced to allow air to circulate, then aged in caves under the town of Roquefort-sur-Soulzon and nowhere else. These caves naturally maintain constant temperature and humidity and are naturally ventilated to provide a constant flow of fresh air. Over 20 million pounds of cheese is produced in this way annually.

   The town of Roquefort is a two-hour drive from our village house in Cazouls-les-Beziers. It’s a small town with little commerce other than cheese production and the tourism associated with it. We arrived at noon and, having driven up the main drag and back to get our bearings, stopped at the most promising looking restaurant – the Restaurant des Fleurines. (Fleurines are the natural airshafts that provide the ventilation to the caves under the town.)  Cathey had an omelet with Roquefort. I had a salad with slices of smoked duck breast, walnuts and nuggets of Roquefort. As we have always found to be the case in France, the ingredients were of the freshest quality. Everything tasty good.

   The tour of the caves of the Societe, an association that produces three of the officially recognized Roquefort varieties, takes about an hour. You’re not allowed to take pictures. There is a light show, a video and a mechanical display. Although the tour is conducted entirely in French, we were given a cheat sheet in English. But without doubt, the stars of the show are the rows upon rows of cheeses that you glimpse behind glass barriers as you wind up and down narrow staircases. These are indeed caves complete with damp rock walls and twisting tunnels. There are eleven levels in the cave that produces Roquefort Depuis1863, eight for production and three for storage.

   I was reminded of my first visit to Hershey…all that good stuff an arm’s length away but completely untouchable.

   The Societe manages two other caves. Because each cave is slightly different, each cheese is different as well, creamier or dryer, sharper or milder. The 1863 is our favorite of the three, on the creamy, mild side. We bought a quarter-round – 600 grams for about $15.00.

   During our tour, our guide demonstrated the wrapping of the rounds in sheets of thin foil. Each round, weighing over two pounds, is wrapped by hand, each worker processing two hundred rounds an hour – more than a ton of cheese each day.

   Roquefort, and similar cheeses like British stilton, should be protected from exposure to air to prevent their molds from continuing their work. That’s why the foil wrap. Traditionally, and pre-plastic, parchment paper was used for storage for most cheeses. Waxed paper is a reasonable modern substitute. You may then choose to wrap again in plastic. In general, however, I believe that cheese should be allowed to breathe. That means that you might find a bit of mold when you unwrap. No problem. The British say that if mold won't eat your cheese, you shouldn't. Just trim it off.

   Choosing a wine to accompany our tangy cheese was a daunting task.

   The Languedoc region is responsible for about 40% of all French wine production. Traditionally, Languedocian wines, mostly reds, were considered of inferior quality, suitable for serving en pichet (in pitchers) only. Table wine, if you will, produced and sold in bulk. Vignerons came to realize, however, that in order to survive in a world where South American, Australian and American wines were increasing in quality and availability, they would have to improve their methodologies or risk bankruptcy. They have, in the main, done so. The result is a burgeoning class of estate bottled wines of moderate price and fair to excellent quality.

   Every major town still has a cave cooperatif, though, a farmers’ coop where grapes grown for bulk sale are harvested by machine and brought to be fermented, bottled and sold by region and type of grape. Often, you can bring an empty jug and have it filled for the equivalent of a couple of dollars a bottle. This is the wine that you find most often on the dinner tables of the average French family. It has a low alcohol content by California standards – 10% or a bit more – and can be drunk throughout the meal and throughout the evening without tragic effect. Better wines are, of course, fermented and bottled on or near the estates (chateaux or domaines) on which the grapes are harvested by hand.

   We were steered to one such domaine in the small village of Causses-et-Veyran after having asked for recommendations on The Languedoc Page, one of the many internet bulletin boards that specialize in postings specific to the south of France. Highly touted as a wine to complement Roquefort was La Maurine Rouge 2003 of Domaine Les Treize Vents. (Of course you have to be careful about these sorts of recommendations. The English language boards are often dominated by Brits, not generally known for their expertise in this area. In addition to various wines, I was advised that Roquefort went well with sweet wholemeal biscuits and with bread baked with currants. Oh, and by the way, licorice with Syrah is “a brilliant combination.”)

   Anyway, Cathey and I cruised through Causses-et-Veyran and found neither the domaine nor the street on which it was supposed to reside. However, in the shaded portion of the village square, we came across a half-dozen or so elderly Frenchmen reading the sports pages, discussing politics and doing whatever these guys do all day long in every village square in France. I hopped out of my rental car, printout in hand, and approached. My French is a bit fuzzy but this was simple stuff.

   I wished them a good day.

   They wished me a good day.

   I asked them if they knew the Domaine of the Thirteen Winds,

   They looked puzzled and shrugged their shoulders. I must say, the sight of that many Frenchmen shrugging in that way they do was daunting, but I carried on.

   I had an address: 7, rue Victor Hugo. I showed the printout around. Light dawned on several faces. It was not the address of a domaine. Rather, I had been referred to a caveau, a wine shop, one that they knew.

   Around the back of the village, they directed, waving their hands. Go right and right again, always right and you will see it.

   I thanked them. As I walked away, they asked if I was English.

   “Non,” I said. “Je suis Americain.” I have recently learned that, just as a neophyte to the French language can’t tell the difference between a Parisian accent and that of Marseilles, so the average Frenchman can’t tell the difference between British and American English.

   They nodded and smiled and waved good-bye, as did I.

   And so we found our first wine, La Maurine Rouge 2003, a hearty red with a touch of fruit and bit more of a tannin bite than I prefer. Not the best, but acceptable and about $6.00 a bottle.

   We stayed on familiar ground for our next tastings. The Chateau Saint Martin des Champs is just outside Murviel-les-Beziers, the next town over from our little village house. Portions of the Chateau were built 350 years ago, about 100 years after the current owners, the Birot family, began their wine-making tradition. And I thought our 150 year-old house in Bath had some history in it when Cathey and I bought it.

   After having explained to the current Madame Birot our mission, to find wines that would complement our Roquefort purchase, we were treated to an extensive tasting. Extensive. If you decide to visit Saint Martin, designate a driver.

   We found several wines that worked for us. There were two varieties of rose – one a biologique, the French term for organically grown. Frankly, though both were clean, satisfying sipping wines, we found the standard rose had more body and was about $1.00 cheaper at a staggering $4.00 a bottle.

   The second wine was most interesting. Called Christines, it’s a light, white, sweet dessert wine. Could pass for an ice wine. Great with Roquefort. $6.00 a bottle.

   It will probably be impossible to find these same wines in the States. I haven’t even looked. French wines bottled for export are generally different than those bottled for domestic consumption. Find what works for you here. But if you find yourself in the south of France, a visit to Chateau Saint Martin des Champs is a must.

   If you are unlikely to visit France any time soon, rest assured. If the label says that the cheese comes from France, and if the cheese is Roquefort, you are definitely getting the real thing. Wegman’s, for instance, has been known to carry Roquefort Cave Baragnaude, also produced by the Societe.

   Now visit one of the LCB’s Wine & Spirits stores. I spoke with Brock, one of the wine guys at the Cedar Crest site. He steered me to a recently arrived Chateau Bastor-Lamontagne 2003 Sauternes, highly rated and with enough sugar content to cut the tang of the Roquefort. That particular bottle may not be in the inventory when you arrive, but there is generally a pretty fair selection of sauternes available.

   Brock and I agree, however, that the most important aspect of the wine that you choose is not what the experts say. Drink what you like. If you like sweet, there are the sauternes and there are dessert wines and ice wines. You might even try one of the sweeter German Rieslings. If you prefer something a bit less complicated, the Australians, the Spanish and of course the French put together some nice roses. You can go big with a port, a sherry or a Madeira. Or you can go simple with a light red vins de pays. Ask your wine guy. He knows.