Wine & Shrooms & Cheese

Beautiful yellow girolle mushrooms

Well — the other weekend, I opened a bottle of Ferraton Lieu Dit Saint-Joseph 2011 (£24 from The Wine Society) and it was bloody excellent. Beyond that, I’m not going to write much more about it. Why?

  1. It came after a brace of negronis (with Sacred Rosehip Cup, natch)
  2. It also came after a bottle of Alsace white
  3. Our splendid friends were having dinner with us, so why the hell would I have been making notes on the wine?

So I can’t tell you with any degree of objectivity or accuracy what it tasted of. But I can tell you how it tasted, which was, like I said, bloody excellent. Fruit, but serious fruit, not jammy nonsense, backed up by heft and spice and the rest.

We had it with mushrooms on toast. Not normal mushrooms on toast (though those are also a majestic thing). No, these were wanky mushrooms on toast. Specifically, girolles (I spotted these in a chichi deli near where I work and cleaned ‘em right out). Wanky shrooms are bloody hard to find if you don’t live in a metropolis replete with upmarket delis. When you do find them, you obey certain iron laws. Since I’m in the mood for ordered lists, let’s crack out another, shall we:

What to do when you find wanky shrooms

  1. Buy them, you idiot
  2. Cradle the resulting shroom-filled brown paper bag in your arms like a stinky, shroomy baby. Occasionally steal surreptitious sniffs as you carry them home, heedless of the disapproving glances of passers-by
  3. When you cook them, don’t fuck about with your poncy cheffy nonsense. They are the star of this show, not you.
  4. You are never the star of this show. When will you learn?
  5. Don’t fucking soak them. If they are absolutely filthy and too difficult to wipe off with a damp cloth, run them extremely quickly under cold water. But don’t let those greedy shrooms gulp up any more water than you can help, because it spoils their splendid texture and makes them squelchy.
  6. Butter is your friend. Garlic is your friend (not too much, please). Parsley is your friend. Thyme is your friend. Lemon is your friend. Salt and pepper are your friends.
  7. My, my. How many friends you suddenly have. Remember point 4, above, before you start congratulating yourself.
  8. Cook the shrooms just enough and absolutely no more. Don’t you dare make a sludgy mess of them, you animal.
  9. It goes without saying that you want wanky bread for your wanky shrooms. Sourdough is ideal.
  10. Mushrooms on toast can be the food of kings. So it’s certainly good enough for you.

I hope this helps.

So. We boshed our way through girolles on toast. All the while gulping away at bloody excellent wine. Then we had cheese.

Cheese was from aforementioned deli also. It was all great, but I want to talk about just one cheese — which happens to be another thing I will pretty much always buy whenever I see it. Waterloo cheese. Christ, it’s outstanding: ridiculously creamy, fabulous stuff. That, I guess, may be down to its provenance: a fine herd of Guernsey cows, who are notoriously creamy buggers. And look how yellow it is.

Waterloo cheese closeup

Come on, if you’re don’t have a string of drool hanging from your lip by now, I don’t want you reading this blog any more.

So, it seems that Waterloo is made in Berkshire by a couple called Anne and Andy Wigmore (yeah, they also make Wigmore cheese, which is superb too), trading as Village Maid Cheese. They’ve won a bevy of golds in the WORLD CHEESE AWARDS, which is admittedly a lesser accolade than being raved about by Old Parn, but impressive nonetheless.

So. In summary, one final ordered list to play us out: consider it homework, if you wish.

  1. Buy Ferraton Lieu Dit Saint-Joseph
  2. Buy good shrooms
  3. Buy Waterloo (the cheese, not — god forbid — the station)

Well? What are you waiting for?

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