Blue Cheese

Let's talk about blue cheese, and let's not be afraid of it.

That marbling of blue-green veins is mould, grown right into the curds from the start. Later the wheel is pierced with needles, so air can reach inside and let the mould bloom along those channels. As it works, it breaks down fat and protein into flavours sharper and deeper than the milk ever had. The salt, though, comes from the maker's hand, added deliberately during the cheesemaking. That's the whole trick: controlled rot, aged into flavour instead of left to spoil.

Choose it by smell first. It should smell sharp and a little animal-like, like a barn, not like ammonia. Ammonia means it's gone too far. Look at the veins — they should be even, spread through the whole wheel, not just painted on the crust. Press it gently. It should give, softly, like it's breathing.

Some people say the blue veins are dangerous, a kind of dirty mould you should scrape off. No! This mould is chosen, cultivated on purpose, safe to eat, and it's exactly where the flavour lives. Scrape it away and you've thrown out the best part, left with a bland, wet lump of cheese that tells you nothing about why blue cheese exists at all.

Eat it at room temperature. Cold, it says nothing.