Wandering into town today (because we have no snowpocalypse here in Darkest Somerset) I discovered a stall in our little mall selling cheeses. The young man running it has a mobile deli business, and being based in Somerset cheese is mostly what he sells. So of course I ended up buying some.
Not having Kevin here to help, I didn’t buy a pile of different cheddars to do a comparative tasting. I did, however, taste a few at the stall. The one called “Glastonbury Thwacker” was smooth and tasty but not quite as sharp as I live. The “blue vein” from Green’s of Glastonbury was much stronger, but I eventually opted for the equally strong and more delightfully named “Old Stinky”.
I also bought a Dorset Blue Vinney, a smoked cheddar with garlic that is guaranteed to see off any vampires and Twlight fans, and a Somerset Camembert. French readers will doubtless roll their eyes at that last one, and they are probably right to do so. However, Somerset cows are every bit as precious as California cows, and these cheese were allegedly personally signed by a lady called Bella so I figured I should see if these bovines know what they are talking about.
Yes, Darkest Somerset has been remarkably bright and sunny these last few days: “lovely blue sunshine” as Blowers puts it. I walked round the top of the Gorge for a couple of hours this afternoon, standing on the very edge of the cliffs at the Pinnacles, with no problem. Back down in Cheddar, though, I slipped and fell crashing to the ground on a bit of black ice on some tarmac, and that was before I got into the pub.
Yeow! Hope there are no serious bruises – or at least none that a pint or two won’t put right.
Did they have any Venezuelan Beaver Cheese?
No bruises – I was wearing a thickish leather jacket, which helped, and lucky I didn’t bang my head in the way that did for Natasha Richardson. Though I’ve never done judo or been taught to fall properly, I still seem to be able to do it OK if taken by surprise. Another few years, though…
really, truly wheels of cheese?