Say Fromage...

One of the highlights of my Paris experience this past week was a visit to Alleosse, the famous cheese shop.  Believe it or not, I was looking for this store and actually passed it the first time walking down the street.  How does someone miss a pink cheese shop?  Picture throngs of food stalls, fruit carts, shoppers purchasing their wares for dinner, seafood mongers calling to customers, the aroma of rotisserie chickens and fries wafting through the market, and you might get a sense how that would be possible.  The market at Rue de Poncelet is quite an experience, one that merits its own entry.

And here is where I introduce my good friend Audi Girl, a dangerous specimen with my passion for food and Major Obvious' obsession with cars.  Audi Girl and I joined the queue that spilled from the shop into the street.  She was anxious to try some brie, while I had a couple of other cheeses in mind to purchase.  As we entered the shop, we were completely overwhelmed.  The store was packed with cheese everywhere!  Cases, shelves and nooks were crammed with delicious possibilities.   The smell was also incredible.  Almost every cheese came with a little tag that said, "Cru Lait," which means raw milk.  That's right, nothing was pasteurized here!  Hence, the lovely, funky smell that only can be found in a lovely French cheese shop.  Audi Girl whispered,  "I don't see Brie anywhere."  She was right, even though we were surrounded by a million cheeses, none of them had the label "Brie."  I had faith, though.  "They've got to have it."

Three men in white chef's jackets were standing at attention, ready for action.  When it was finally our turn, I requested "Brie de Meaux" and our assistant called out, "Brie de Meaux!  Oui, madam!"  Then he reached into a vast glass case and pulled out an enormous wheel.  He motioned with his hand where I might want it cut.  I nodded, and he cut.  Then, he wrapped.  Next?  "Camembert."  He pulled out a smaller wheel and asked me something in rapid French.  I thought he was asking me if I wanted to buy the whole thing, so I asked, "C'est possible...demi..." and made cutting motions with my hands.  He replied that he could definitely do that, cut and wrapped it.  At this point, Audi Girl whispered in my ear, "He was asking which day you were going to eat it."  Oops.  Well, we were definitely going to eat it today.  No matter.  Onto the next cheese!  "Neufchatel, sil vous plait."  Repeat, show for inspection, wrap.  Is that everything?  Yes, we're done, thank you.  He prints out a little ticket, then I realize that I need to stand in another line.  I came to learn that Parisians often stand in line twice at shops.  So I presented my ticket to the cashier, at which point he miraculously produced a little pile of wrapped cheeses, all the correct ones I had requested.  Audi Girl was impressed, "I was wondering how they were going to keep track of our cheeses!"

So what was our favorite?  The Brie de Meaux was Audi Girl's and Major Obvious' favorite.  I preferred the softer and tangier Camembert.  But our best cheese find was at Cafe Angelina two days later.  Audi Girl ordered a plate that came with some Brillat-Savarin.  Fresh and snowy white, it tasted like the butteriest cream cheese ever.  Now I know what to ask for next time at Alleosse!