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Going to Intermarché this morning I was presented with a large notice stuck to the door.  ‘Arrivage.  Cheddar…’

cheese‘Ooh good!’ thinks me, visions of ploughman’s lunches racing through my head.  What a treat to be able to satisfy that occasional Cheddar craving.

Then I saw the rest of the notice,

FrancemagesQuoi?

Resisting the temptation to do a John McEnroe I went to the cheese counter and asked the assistant if the ‘authentic Cheddar’ was really made in France.

She confirmed it was and I pointed out that in that case it was about as authentic as Brie made in l’Angleterre.  I know that there’s a Somerset Brie but Brie de Meaux it ain’t.  I rest my case.

The assistant looked most surprised to learn that Cheddaire is an English cheese.  Or was, as it seems to be made pretty well everywhere but not, as far as I know, in la belle F up until now.  To be honest French cheesemakers may be the best in the world but they don’t seem to have got the hang of Cheddaire, their version was dry and crumbly and definitely wouldn’t grace any self-respecting  cheese board.  And though it costs 18€ a kilo it tastes like the cheap stuff in packets, quite tasty but not 18€ tasty.  It looks like the master cheese makers in the Cheddar Gorge have much to worry about.

And I’m just so pleased that my friend Mary is in England at the moment and is going to bring me back a lump of proper Cheddar.

 

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