THE International Cheese Awards in Nantwich, the largest in the world, is the most quotable of festivals.
So are we saying it’s got an excellent back end of goat?
Here are some words spoken during the speeches or during judging:
“He’s been in soft cheese for more than 30 years.”
“He’s cheese through and through you know, cheese is in his blood.”
“She’s a woman who has surrounded herself with cheese every minute of the day.”
“He loves this industry, he felt stifled in the world of yoghurt.”
There were some fascinating facts.
“Cheese is the most smuggled foodstuff on the planet,” said Kate Richmond, former cheese maker and our steward. Apparently Russia is smuggling truckloads into the country after sanctions following the illegal invasion of Crimea and eastern Ukraine. Kate was helping guide three of the hundreds of judges around, namely John Dixon from Dairy Crest, Nicola Parry from Marks & Spencer and me from cheese friendly Confidential.
Hundreds of judges gatherWe had several categories to judge amongst the 4,800 or so cheeses put forward by a global truckle of cheese producers. In three hours I tasted around 45. There were good moments and bad moments, there were lovely blue cheeses and as pot luck would have it twenty ‘soft cheeses with additives’.
Additives such as fruit, herbs, pastes, onions, jams, spices, tarmac, sulphur or whatever bored cheese makers think up, break one of the fundamental laws of nature. Namely not to knacker beautiful things with needless foolishness. Less is more with cheese. One producer had the temerity to produce cheese pellets the size of sheep droppings and then lace them with a pesto flavouring which produced a gag reaction.
John Dixon, Kate Richmond, Nicola Parry tasting semi-skimmed goats milkI consider myself a reasonably knowledgeable foodie but was useless compared to my fellow judges and our steward, Kate. My companions would say things like: “This cheese has been given a light salt rinse and is a young cheese with traces of ammonia.” I’d say: “I like that one. It’s...er..tasty.” Pause. “Shall I stand over there in the corner and not talk to anyone?”
At one point we downed seven semi-skimmed samples of goats’ milk for we also had to taste things that could be made into cheese. Maybe other judges were sampling triangles and string.
Most of our milk was lacking goatiness.
“They’ll maybe get more goaty as they go along,” said Nicola.
“Like men,” I quipped. Pause. “Shall I stand over there in the corner and not bother anyone?”
“At last,” said John, “this has a stronger flavour of goat in the back taste.”
“So are we saying it’s got an excellent back end of goat,” said Kate, an Aussie with wit as dry as the Outback. Kate is committed to the cause and carries a cheese jokebook with her at all times.
“I love a bit of back end of goat in the morning,” I said moving towards the corner where I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone or bother them.
After the first part of judging we had to throw our weight around and decide which was the best from several category winners. A soft French cheese won out with a beautiful taste that put one straight inside a summer’s meadow surrounded by flowers.
By this time I was giddy with cheese which was apparently the fault of the Canadian Cheddars. “Hard yellow cheese releases tyrosine which in turn lifts serotonin levels which can produce an ecstatic feeling,” said Kate. Or she said something like this, I was too high on a cloud of cheese elation to pay attention.
A lunch of non-cheese calmed me down in a tent the size of Belgium with 1,200 diners in it. We were treated to a series of speeches including those from some jolly Frenchmen in medieval costume who turned out to be La Guilde Interntionale des Fromagers. The boss of the guild was a fine fellow, Roland Barthelemy, who had the best French accent ever, a little like Eric Cantona's when he'd first arrived in England. I think our Roland said, "When soft cheeses follow the trawler, it is because they think rennet will be thrown into the curds.' It was a pity all the speakers spurned the opportunity for cheese jokes, they even missed the temptation to announce Roland as Le Grand Fromage.
One of the blue cheese cornersAfter more than 4,000 tastings of every kind of cheese the Supreme Champion was announced, a crumbly Lancashire cheese from Greenfields Dairy, at Goosnargh. There was an intense if slightly envious round of applause from the other cheese producers.
On the train down to Crewe I had sat opposite a distinguished looking man who'd spread out medical papers on the carriage table and taken a call about a heart surgery consultancy in London he would carry out later that day. And there was I going to judge cheese. Yet seeing the number of cheese makers, trade insiders and general cheese lovers it struck me that all jobs have merit (aside from those involving the production of soft cheese with additives of course).
Industries such as this employ people, provide a basis for life, amuse people, delight people, so there was nothing to fear in comparing my job to the good doctor's. And I bet he doesn't possess what I do now: a precious enamel badge declaring me a 'Cheese Awards Judge'.
As Monty Python said in Life of Brian, "Blessed are the cheese makers". You wouldn't want to be stifled in the world of yoghurt after all.
The International Cheese Awards take place in Nantwich every July.
Oh no the soft cheeses with additives
Some of the judging tables
Oh look, occasional Confidential writer Charles Campion is here
