Cheese and wine: the best matches

Sometime in the early ‘80s I went on a buying trip to the Loire with my friend Tim Johnston and his wife Stephanie. We went down in his old van and, as usual, cushions were strewn around the back to make my journey more comfortable. Our first stop was Chavignol. I can’t remember the grower we visited – possibly Alphonse Mellot – to buy some white Sancerre. Then we went to get some of the famous crottin (the word means ‘dropping’) goats’ milk cheeses made in the same village, and climbed a hill for a simple but heavenly picnic lunch. I may not have known it then, but I do now: Sauvignon Blanc likes goats’ milk cheeses best.

France and Italy can offer several instances where wine and the local gastronomic speciality are produced within the same commune. In Italy, in the purlieus of Reggio, Modena and Parma, a hunk of parmigiano reggiano (parmesan) cheese is served with a glass of local lambrusco – a sweet, fizzy red. It is best of all with a low-strength, sparkling moscato d’Asti, although Daniel Thibaut at Charles Heidsieck used to pair it well with champagne. 

In the Alps, a Reblochon might be served with a local white like an Abymes or an Apremont. In Chablis, the distinguished white wine is paired with the local Epoisses, an absolute stinker of a washed rind cheese (its bark is much worse than its bite). A red wine might be daunted, but not Chablis.

Growing up in Britain and loving the hard cheeses that are still our best, Cheddars, Cheshires and Double Gloucesters, I was happy to eat them on their own or with a pint of ale. Soft cheeses of the washed rind, or croûte fleurie (camembert, brie) type however, I simply couldn’t consume without wine. In those days Bries and Camemberts tended to be restricted to restaurants and formal dinners, where they were eaten after the meat. The progression of wines within the meal meant that the wine served with the cheese would almost certainly be red. Experience has shown that this is not the optimum solution, but no one is likely to want to go back to a dry white after a substantial Bordeaux or Burgundy. 

As far as that other great English cheese, Stilton is concerned, tradition dictates port. Blue cheeses, particularly salty blue cheeses like Roquefort, require sweet wines. The more salt in the cheese, the more sweetness is needed. Of course, it doesn’t have to be port: a glass of Sauternes makes a nice transition from cheese to Christmas pudding and is quite happy with both. 

So which cheeses actually like red wines? The answer is surprisingly few. In top Bordeaux châteaux ancient tradition would have it that the wines are served with old Dutch cheeses liked Gouda and Edam peeled from the truckle with an mandoline-type instrument I have seen nowhere else. Hard pressed cheeses of the Comté/Gruyère sort might do as well, as would Cheddar at a stretch – although some whites would also match them well and might be an improvement. The fruitier the red, the better it will go with soft cheeses; but creamy cheeses can be more tolerant. I shall never forget my first taste of a ripe triple-cream Brillat-Savarin at the three-star Lameloise restaurant in Burgundy. It was sublime against the aged Burgundy in my glass. 

I was thinking about cheese last week when the KWV cooperative in Paarl in the Cape sent me a collection of the latest releases in their elite Mentors range together with a box of cheeses from Paxton & Whitfield: a gorgeous soft, ash-coated Loire goat from Selles-sur-Cher; a piece of Brie de Meaux in top condition; and a English Reblochon-style cheese from the Cotswolds called “Baronet”, that was relatively bland but very creamy. Then there were the hard cheeses: an old, fruity Androuet Comté; a rubbery, smoked Lincolnshire Poacher; a revelatory, unpasteurised Red Leicester from Sparkenhoe; and a bit of Cropwell Bishop Stilton. 

The wines were chiefly red. 2018 Stellenbosch Pinotage; 2018 Stellenbosch Petit Verdot; 2018 Coastal Region Canvas; 2018 Orchestra – recently voted South Africa’s best wine in the Veritas Awards; and 2018 Paarl Petite Sirah (or Durif). The white was the 2019 Coastal Region Chenin Blanc. 

For the reasons I have explained, I thought the Chenin would have the easiest time of it. It was best with the Comté and not bad with the Stilton – maybe because the latter wasn’t very salty and the Chenin was a little sweeter than I’d have normally expected. The Pinotage married best to the Red Leicester. I had never met a non-supermarket Red Leicester before and I was impressed. If the Petit Verdot had a match it was the nutty, creamy Baronet that proved remarkably good with almost all the reds. Syrah accounted for nearly 40 per cent of Canvas, but it put me in mind of a Rioja. It was slow to come round at the tasting, but filled out a lot. Again, the Baronet was the best match. Orchestra was a tremendous Bordeaux-style wine containing all six black grapes associated with the region. With its concentration it was not bad with the Baronet either. Lastly the Petite Sirah, produced in tiny quantities and with a creamy black cherry taste, seemed to hug all the blander hard cheeses well enough.

As luck would have it, the next day two whites arrived from Bordeaux with two more cheeses: an English Ragstone goat made in the style of a Loire-Valley Sainte Maure from Neal’s Yard and a smoked hard-pressed Raclette from the Alps. The whites were 2019 Sauvignon Blanc from Château Bauduc and a mature 2013 Château La Louvière from Pessac-Lèognan.

It was no surprise to find that the Bauduc Sauvignon Blanc matched the goat like a dream. I was a little less convinced by the smoked Raclette with the Louvière. The wine was lovely: all cat on the nose and passion fruit on the palate. When the tasting was finished, the house was full of cheese and some of it was heading down hill. I was convinced to make an Alpine-style tartiflette with the remains of the bloomy cheeses: Baronet, Brie and Ragstone; that is two layers of potatoes with bacon and onions, separated by, and normally topped with Reblochon. Ours was mostly Baronet. The dish was very good, and we put out a powerful St Chinian red with 14.5 per cent alcohol to go with it. It was utterly routed by the dish. Next time I make a tartiflette we will serve a white.

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