The Turning Point

After years of enjoying my pasta drenched in butter and Cheese Whiz, the fates took me by the hand to France for the entire month of May. Part of the time was spent with a French and American couple who I know here in California. Their stunning mid-century estate in Bois le Roy, Normandie was designed by the French architect Claude Parent after the style of Corbusier. The huge concrete roof sweeps at a steep angle from very high up, down to the rolling hills at the other end. A lovely setting for a life-changing experience.

One lazy Saturday we ventured out with rain gear in tow to the local Normandie farmer's market in Ezy sur Eure. Among the sausages, bread and produce we bought was a single, 3 1/2" round piece of soft cow's milk cheese. This double cream was no more than 3/4" high and was beginning to get a bloomy rind. I didn't think more about it until we got home and our delightful purchase was unwrapped and spreading knives passed out. My first impression was a delicate smell as the initial cut was made. The taste was like being transported to another planet, that one with no taxes, no weight gain and eternally Spring.

This cheese was made by a local farmer who brings her cheeses each week to the market and sells them out. Because they are sold on the spot, not even delivered into Paris only one hour away, they don't have to be pasteurized. The taste is unlike any American bought, soft bloomy rind cheese I had tasted up until then. Tho mild in flavor, I remember the taste of flowers and rain. The soft rolling hills of Normandie, along with the winds and rain bring their special messages to the terroir of this cheese.

I proceeded to be a very bad guest. During the afternoon I snuck back into the kitchen and devoured what was left of this beauty. Not only that, it appeared in my dreams for years, and even today all double creams that pass my lips are compared to this.