Kate of Late: Reign of terroir: The earthy pleasures of artisanal cheese

(This article won the award for Best Magazine Food Feature Reporting from the U.S.-based Association of Food Journalists in 2006.)

Terroir. It's the word oenophiles use to describe the ineffable qualities of a wine-making area: the way that geography, topography, climate, air quality and soil collude to give a wine its sense of place. The romantic might call it “that certain je ne sais quoi” that distinguishes an Australian Shiraz from a French Syrah; the prosaic might define it as regional flair.

Most of us associate the word “terroir” with winemaking, but lately in Canada, the term is expanding its domain. The term “Canadian terroir” is being conjured up by all kinds of enthusiasts to refer to every sort of regional comestible, from B.C.'s ditch-grown watercress to Nunavut's wild caribou meat. The concept of terroir, and its rapidly broadening applications, also fits neatly into the platform of the Slow Food movement, with its emphasis on eating what is native as well as what is seasonal. Nowhere is the blossoming interest in regionalism more evident than in the world of artisanal cheese, where the idiosyncratic quality and local provenance of this hand-made product are two of its chief selling points.

But can a cheese really have a terroir? It's not grown, per se; it isn't planted on a sun-kissed mountainside or subject, like grapes, to the nasty slap of a mistral. How much do geography, climate and terrain affect the flavour and consistency of a cheese? Why is Switzerland famed for Gruyère but not for Camembert, Italy for Parmesan but not for manchego? And why is Ontario celebrated for cheddar but Salt Spring Island for chèvre? In the opinion of many experts, it's all about the terroir -- and the quality of the milk.

For both cheesemakers and cheesemongers, the two are inextricably linked. Experts understand that what goes into the cow, goes into the cheese.

Agassiz, B.C.'s Debra Amrein-Boyes is reminded of that fact regularly. Artisanal cheeses are distinguished by the fact that they are usually made from milk produced close by or on-site. Amrein-Boyes' Farm House Natural Cheeses are made of milk produced right on the spot by her husband's cows, which makes hers a “fermier” or “closed herd” operation. She has learned over the course of years of cheese-making here and in the Swiss Alps that when the cows' diet varies, so does the cheese.

At one point, Amrein-Boyes says, her husband planted their Fraser Valley fields with red clover, which is a legume. The grazing cows were affected by legumes much as humans are -- their digestive systems got gassy, and so did their milk. The resulting cheese puffed up and, while it tasted as delicious as ever, its swelling split each cheese's wax coating so the coating had to be reapplied. Red clover was quickly struck from the cows' menu, which now consists of fresh hay, bale hay containing fermented grass, a mixed blend of grains, and, in the winter, corn silage, which imparts a welcome sweetness.

Janice Beaton, who owns Calgary's Janice Beaton Fine Cheese, remembers well the raw milk goat cheese her shop once received. She had ordered it in bulk for major wine events that she was catering. A few days before the cheese was due to be served up, accompanied by a great Muscato, Beaton cut into the wheel and had a taste. It was foul. When she called the cheesemaker to complain, the woman was philosophical. “Oh, you got that batch,” she said. “(The goats) got into the garlic.”

At the same time, when Beaton slices into a 40-kilo wheel of French Comte made from summertime milk, she believes she can smell the wild strawberries and herbs that the cows have been feeding on. “That's raw milk cheese,” she says. “If the milk is pasteurized and bigger production, I think it becomes much less of a relationship.”

According to Allison Spurrell, co-owner of Vancouver's Les Amis du Fromage, the French Jura cheese Comte Montagne is strictly regulated. It doesn't qualify as Appellation d'Origin Controllée (AOC) cheese if the cows making the milk that goes into it haven't grazed above an altitude of 1,150 metres on the 131 varieties of grasses and flowers that grow at that height.

A cheese's terroir goes deeper, literally, than that. According to Beaton, it may also be affected by what's in the soil where the cows' grass grows. On the Magdalene Islands, she says, salt air contributes to the flavour of the grass and, probably, the cheese. In the Niagara escarpment, limestone likely affects the milk's tang and works its way into the wheel.

There are numerous other variables to artisanal cheese, however. These include the kind of cow, goat or sheep that produced the milk -- Farm House uses its own Guernsey and Brown Swiss cows because of the high butter fat in their milk, and Holsteins because of their higher milk volume. Every cow has different butter fat content, as does every breed, Amrein-Boyes explains.

In addition, each cow has a cycle. The butter fat content is higher when a cow starts lactating and just before it stops.

Seasons can affect flavour, too. David Wood, of B.C.'s Salt Spring Island Cheese Company, says one of the biggest challenges an artisanal cheese-maker faces is providing a consistent product. Despite the fact that he makes goat and sheep cheese in one of the country's least extreme climates, seasonal changes to the milk occur. Unlike wine, which is made once a year, cheese is made every day, he points out, but the composition of the milk supply is always in flux.

Milk is higher-fat in the winter, Spurrell says, which means the cheese may not behave in the same way it does in the summer in terms of its consistency. Some artisans, like those who make sheep's cheese in the Pyrénées, get around that challenge by restricting the production of certain cheeses to a particular time of year.

As a result of all these variations, it would be impossible for a cheese-maker in, say, the Edmonton area, to produce a wheel that tasted like one he loved from Normandy. Beaton mentions an Italian cheese-maker in Camrose, Alberta, called Emanuella Leoni, who uses a recipe for Parmesan that has been in her family for 700 years. While processing differences may account for part of the disparity, her Leoni-Grana -- which Beaton notes is delicious -- is nevertheless profoundly different from the traditional Parmigiano-Reggiano.

Other key influences on a cheese's taste include processing techniques -- whether it is made from pasteurized, thermisé or raw milk. In Beaton's view, it's the raw milk cheeses that speak most clearly of terroir, because when a cheese is pasteurized at high heat, both the potentially harmful bacteria and the healthy, flavourful bacteria are destroyed. Thermisé is a gentler, slower, lower-heat process that differs from cheese-maker to cheese-maker; it allows some of the healthy bacteria to linger while snuffing the bad stuff out.

Speaking of bacteria, Kathy Guidi, owner of Toronto-based Artisan Cheese Marketing, says Canadian cheese-makers are just beginning to play with micro-cultures, “the natural flora of bacteria that exists within curing rooms.” The limestone caverns of Mont Combalou, near Roquefort, for instance, sustain bacteria that invade the rind and help provide the salty snap for which the cheese has been famous for centuries.

The importance of terroir notwithstanding, none of these experts claim to be able to identify the region any cheese comes from simply by tasting it blind.

On the other hand, Guidi believes that with a little coaching, most people could detect a difference between the cheddar made in Quebec and that made in Ontario. The Quebec cheddar is “more fruity,” she says. Meanwhile, the cheddar produced in Western Canada is firmer and has its own unique flavour. All are cow's milk cheddars; none have the same terroir.

“A good artisan will work within their terroir and bring out the very best qualities in their region,” says Guidi. It doesn't matter how avid the “caseophile” (cheese geek), she continues, “They can't totally appreciate the artisan behind the cheese unless they understand terroir and some of the things that go into it.”

Quebec, Canada's most culturally distinct province, has gone for artisanal cheese in a huge way. Alain Besré, who buys and distributes artisanal cheese for Montreal's Fromagerie du Marché Atwater, says the market for artisanal cheese in his province is where the market for Canadian wine was 30 years ago. While part of the enthusiasm in Quebec for cheese may be due to its inhabitants' connection to French culture, Besre says that mad cow disease, genetically modified foods and the public debate over legislation concerning raw milk cheese has made Quebeckers much more conscious of what they are buying to eat.

Fromagerie Atwater carries 150 different Quebec-made cheeses (out of 600-800 stocked) from 40-50 cheese-makers. While Quebec artisans are looking to market their fromage outside the province, Besré would like to see more cheese-makers spring up elsewhere in the country, particularly in the west.

“I think it's very important that people in Canada develop what's specific to their region,” he says. “It's important that we buy Canadian and we're proud of what we do.”

Sidebar:

When Good Flavours Collide

“Much has been written about which wine goes with which particular cheese. It is entirely a matter of taste.”
- The New Larousse Gastronomique

Yeah, maybe. But some experts maintain that wine and cheese ought to go their separate ways. Even Larousse goes on to say, “Never serve the great wines with cheese.”

The latest data? A University of California at Davis study released this year paired eight wines with eight cheeses. Researchers analyzed the wines separately first, then together with each cheese. The results suggested that the cheese almost invariably detracted from wine, muting special characteristics, good and bad.

Les Amis du Fromage co-owner Allison Spurrell agrees. While we tend to assume that cheese goes with wine, she says, “It's actually much harder to pair than you would think.”

Red wine in particular is hard to match, she continues, because its big tannins can compete with, rather than complement, the softer, runnier wedges.

When in doubt about what goes with what, Janice Beaton of Janice Beaton Fine Cheese suggests honouring terroir by pairing a cheese with a wine or two from its region. Foods native to a region seldom clash, Beaton says. “Nine times out of ten there's going to be a synergy between the two.”

Sauvignon Blanc and goat cheese from the Loire Valley, for example, make an ideal marriage, in her view.

Meanwhile, Spurrell applauds the alliance of the Loire's Sancerre and the area's Crotin. “You taste the two and you go, 'Wow. This is what a match should be. It's perfect.'”

September, 2006, Wine Access magazine