Cheese carnage

Gentle readers. You may have thought that my love of cheese has waned in the past months because I have been so lax in documenting new discoveries. I assure you, and my waistline will back me up on this, that my total and complete adoration of all things curd-based is intact and flourishing.

I had a Sunday lunch today that culminated in the all important cheeseboard coarse. Beautiful. The meal was amazing, if I do say so myself: salad of sweet Chevre, endive, tomatoes, avocado and a seed assortment for texture, risotto with young asparagus, lemon zest, Parmesan and fresh mint, main course of rare steak on top of white beans and leeks with roasted rosemary potatoes on the side. Melanie brought desert of Cognac-infused straw, blue and rasp berries that she served with sour yogurt and mango sorbet, and then after 10 bottles of wine and as many packs of cigarettes, came the cheese. Brie, Port Salut, Manchego and the best Stilton I have ever had in my life. Deeee-licous.

The company was sterling: Peter, Martin, Mel and Maya (from Portland!). It lasted for more than six hours and I performed "Wig in a Box" on my coffee table, which I doubted I would ever do here. It went over big. Huge even. And so the cheese lives on in many ways -- dairy and non.