
We had a little tree trimming party on Sunday, one of the highlights of which was my new obsession: La Tur cheese. Joanna and Alex brought it over on Friday night and its safe to say my life hasn’t been the same since. I’ve eaten it five days in a row (thanks Whole Foods) and I hate to say it but there is half a wheel in the fridge as I type this. It is a combination of goat, cow and sheep’s milk that melts in your mouth and makes you happy, thin and rich.
Murray’s says:
“Three milks, and two textures, that merge into one cheese’s best approximations of ice cream. A thin, edible skin barely contains a hair’s breadth of drippy tang, and then: deep, tongue-skimming, milk cloud, full and moist, with a liberal salting that makes you wish they left the sugar out of gelato entirely. A mild and delightful cheese”
La Tur, La Tur, I like to say it, type it, and most of all, I like to eat it. I spent part of Monday thinking about the social acceptability of naming any second child La Tur. (No, but, I would like to). At the tree trimming party we also served mulled cider, a selection of cheese to act as back up singers to the La Tur, an array of cured meats, homemade cookies (Russian tea cakes and chocolate chip), lots of oranges and as the night wore on, some piping hot quiche. (And, it was a treat to watch Leon and Alex roll around like puppies in the nursery). Here’s a gratuitous shot of our now trimmed tree:

PS Top image from the cheese blog 365 Cheeses.