NCheeseAA Round Of 64: The Deli Draw
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3 Gruyère vs. 15 Taleggio. Managing to be both sharp and fruity — that rare whiff of pineapple is classic — cave-aged Gruyère is top of its game when melted. Of course, if you leave it raw, you get to crunch through those awesome protein (not salt) crystals. Butting heads with the Swiss miss, we have Taleggio, one of the stickiest, beefiest, and most unctuous cheeses out there. Not only that, Taleggio has what I like to call “stank cred.”
Nutshelled, people like to show how hardcore they are by professing to eat only the stenchiest of cheeses. Taleggio is macho cheese and will beat Gruyère’s fruity ass.
5 Muenster vs. 12 Swiss/Emmenthaler. Swiss/Emmenthaler is the classic cartoon cheese; it’s all big and yellow with those huge holes — “eyes,” to the Ph.cheesed — and it’s Gruyère’s sour partner in classic fondue. For some reason, it also seems to attract the weight-conscious, so that could either make it a heavy contender for the win or handicap it as “diet cheese.” Creamy and non-threatening, American Muenster melts on hot sandwiches a fair treat, snacks well with dill pickles, and is pretty much the cheese next door. Plus, it’s fun to say, “Moooonster!” Muenster takes this one home and lays it on some mustard-slathered toast.
2 Provolone vs. 6 Havarti. Havarti is a fine cheese; the dill kind, you’ll notice, is always the first type of cube to disappear from the pyramid o’ cheese at a wedding’s cocktail hour. That said, provolone is the sandwich gold standard: salty, dense, the Astaire to the Jersey tomato’s Rogers. Pretty peppy opponent for it here in the first round, but The ‘Lone is going to trample most of its opposition, starting now.
1 Mozzarella vs. 9 Manchego. It’s ranked numero uno for a reason, but good old mootzadell’ has its work cut out for it against The Cheese Of La Mancha, because, although mozzarella is a staple, the same blank-slate quality that makes it so cookable and popular may work against it in a desert-island-cheese situation. One cheese for the rest of your sandy-swimsuited life: the reliable cross-platform performer, or the strong personality? My vote sort of depends on whether my desert island serves dry Riesling. Your votes will probably pass El Mozzo through to the next round.
7 Fontina vs. 10 Ricotta. People, we got a bland-off here. As far as I’m concerned, the only time the Piedmontese Fontina is rendered tasty is when it’s melted down and covered in white truffle oil for a cardoon dip. On the other hand, ricotta is one of those wet, mushy cheeses that scores only when used as an ingredient among a bunch of other things. It doesn’t bring flavor so much as it does texture. This isn’t a match-up, it’s a mehtch-up — but ricotta gets my shrug.
14 Limburger vs. 4 Asiago. A more lopsided contest than the rankings might indicate, unless staunch defenders of Limburger’s stanky honor join the battle big-time — each cheese is familiar even to non-foodies, but to say Limburger has an image problem is to understate the case rather dramatically (and with nostrils pointedly held closed, pinky aloft). Asiago is a multi-use workhorse and a good bet to go far in its draw, and some folks really can’t tolerate what my sister-in-law calls “cat-pee cheese,” but I hope Limburger puts up at least a nominal fight against a rival I’m starting to find overused and unimaginative.
13 Double Gloucester vs. 16 Mascarpone. It’s hard to fathom how the cheese that gets rolled down an English hillside in an annual cheese-rolling festival could ever lose out tiramisu filling. And yet, when you snack on a fingerful of pure white, non-gritty mascarpone, it’s hard to imagine ever eating anything else. These are two vastly different cheeses from two totally different countries, but I’m going to say that mascarpone’s 9 1/2 Weeks potential will outstrip Double Gloucester’s mellow crumble.
11 Pecorino Romano vs. 8 Port Salut. I can’t wait to see how this one plays out, because it’s like comparing apples and oranges. Or, really, apples and dictionaries. Port Salut has the rare distinction of pairing perfectly, in my opinion, with every cracker you can throw at it; the combination of creaminess and sharpness makes it one of my favorites. But then you’ve got a plate of linguine al dente with P.R. and fresh black pepper: simple and perfect. Too close to call.
Tags: food
So, my grandfather looooves to start cheese conversations with the fact that he spent a summer putting holes in Swiss cheese.
What you say? Swiss cheese comes with holes in it?
Too true. But funnily enough, no one buys Swiss cheese if they can’t see the holes in it, or so say the marketers. If by some unfortunate turn of luck, the cheese appears with no holes on its surface, or not enough, there would be my grandfather, ready with his little scoop.
Hey, the Depression was tough, and it beat the boys who came home reeking of Limburger…
I’d like to point out that Muenster also has the Jimmy Buffett variable with which to contend.
On one hand, the people who hate Jimmy Buffett tend to believe that he thinks eponymous Cheeseburger in Paradise “with mustard’d be nice” due to not caring enough to decipher, meaning our cheesy hero can be left to slip by undetected by the haters.
For those that love Jimmy Buffett, they know that a hot beef injection “with Muenster’d be nice” and most are hard-pressed to disagree.
Plus, my family has always called it “monster” cheese, so there’s that.
Yes, I’m going to double-post. On a thread about cheeses, no less. Wanna fight about it?
Ricotta proper might be a meh cheese, but ricotta salata is a wonder to behold. The mush is pressed, salted, and dried, and ends up as a super-salty-less-sour-more-solid-AND-more-crumbly version of feta. It’s awesome.
Hee, you said “hot beef injection.”
I can vouch for the Swiss thing. I worked in a grocery store deli for about a year, and I had at least one person who would not believe me that the cheese I had just sliced for them was Swiss because it didn’t have holes in it. Even when I showed them the block, which DID have holes in it, just not all the way through.
I would have agreed on the meh-ness of ricotta not so very long ago, until I had the opportunity – nay, the honour – to try fresh ricotta on still-warm bread in northern Italy. The crap that you buy in grocery stores simply can not touch that stuff.
Go ricotta!!
Yeah, my daughter calls it “Swiss cheese with holes.” She loves it, but if I come across a slice without holes, I have to make them myself before giving it to her. I shouldn’t complain, though. She’s 4 and her favorite snack is dried apricots with either brie or English cheddar. We’re training her to “hanker for a hunk of cheese.”
Mmmmm…Double Gloucester…better than cake.
Who could possibly vote against a cheese that is an essential ingredient in lasagne, The World’s Most Sublime Food?
Mmmmmmm….Gruyere. I could live on that stuff.
Just about to take a melted Gouda, tomato and spring onion sandwich out of the oven. Yum yum.
Megan — I agree about the Ricotta Salata. Totally needs to be considered next year.
I am so sad that I am lactose-intolerant and do not get any of the cheese jokes. Frown.
(I”ve posted more in this one thread than I have the entire last six months combined. Hello, my name is Megan, and I eat at least a pound of cheese a week, while somehow managing to stay the size of only a small house.)
I’m a little worried about how excited I am by the prospect of plans for next year already in the works, because lord knows, I spent all of yesterday afternoon thinking up other comestibles that could fight to the death: breads, candy, wine, meats, “classic” dishes or desserts (I abstain from the creme brulee v. cheesecake, proscuitto di Parma v. beef carpaccio, and the lasagna v. PB&J pairings).
I want some cheese SO BADLY right now.
No love for goat cheese?
I’ll chime in on the ricotta salata, too. I work at a Tuscan restaurant and when the ricotta salata gets delivered I always slice off a few hunks for myself!
And a candy match-up in the future would be great!
OMG, I love plain ricotta from a tub! It’s so good. It’s a little sweet, and creamy, and yum yum yum! In the battle of cottage v. ricotta, ricotta wins hands down!
I have it on good authority that in Switzerland, they just call it “cheese.”
I’m going to downcheck Provolone just because some idiots out here in California try to put it on cheesesteaks. WHAT THE FUCK, PEOPLE, SERIOUSLY.
Sars, where is this magical DELI where all these cheeses are available? Are you cheating and calling Amish Market or (worse) Artisanal a deli? The delis in my neighborhood have two kinds of cheese: white and yellow.
@ Liesl:
The people who are allergic to tomatoes. Plus ricotta has always seemed very unappealing to me when other people make lasagna, and this is from someone who’ll eat blue cheese in any form.