A little more food p0rn….
This evening I decided to dine once again at the CD Club in the Diplomat Hotel. The waiter had a little trouble with my accent, and to accompany the “roast knee of lamb” he brought me a bottle of wine rather than a glass. Oh well… I decided not to send it back. It was a local non-vintage: a Frankovka red (labelled “modry sklep”, whatever that means). Very tasty. When the lamb arrived, it turned out to be what in America is called “braised lamb shank”, albeit a little drier than usual. Pleasant, but not distinguished. I finished it, and still had all this wine. What was I to do? The cheese plate beckoned.
An interlude: back in the 1990s I used to visit Grenoble regularly – perhaps 3 times a year – and I always stayed in the Park Hotel. They had a tiny restaurant that was notable for two things:
- If you ordered a half bottle of wine (and they stocked some interesting vintages in half bottles), they would give you “the other half” as a gift when you left
- they had the most extraordinary cheese board
Frequently I caught myself hurrying through dinner because I was impatient to inspect the cheeses!
Back to CD Club. The cheese plate arrived, and there were four extremely fine cheeses, none of which I could identify. There were two large wedges of a blue, some segments from a small chevre, a…
I grabbed a passing waiter (the same one that had mistaken my wine order) and asked him if he could identify the cheeses. He muttered something blasphemous like “Edam” and scurried off.
But wait: my favourite maitre d’ was suddenly to hand. I thrust a pen and paper towards him and asked him to write down the names of the cheeeses. He was delighted to oblige. The chevre style was Hermelin, the blue was Niva, the strong (?goat’s-milk) one with an orange rind was Tvarusek, and the semi-soft wedge was Blatackeslato (which is “very difficult for you to write” as he explained).
And with wonderf
UPDATED: For your enjoyment:
