Journey to the Realms of Cheesedom

How I got from the humble beginnings at the local market to some of the biggest ‘caves d’affinage’ in france. A twisting tale of battling bureaucracy and French tradition to get to the nerve center of cheese production.

Phase 1: "Leaving the (shrop) shire (blue)"

My journey began as a hopeful English girl bouncing down to the local market with a twinkle in my eye and an offer of free work for my local cheese man. But as usual, things are much more complicated than that and I was greeted by a very confused cheese man who didn’t really understand why I wanted to work for free. Here is what I realised, cheese is often a family affair with no employees and to give a job to a random person off the street would be sheer madness, let alone one from the cheddar producing land of England! However he was kind enough to offer me the address of someone who could help.

Phase 2: “the brandywine ferry to Brie”

 Next stop syndicat of Rhone cheesemakers, after a wander down a long winding road into the country side outside Lyon, I followed the cheesy aroma wafting from the building. A kind lady called Catherine gave me loads of information and names of places that might want to give me a job, I also had her permission to drop her name when I went to go see them- ooo la la!

Phase 3: “We will go through the mines of Morbier”

So the next part of my treacherous journey took me round Lyon on a bicycle to some of the top cheese makers in town. Waffling on about my love of cheese and my desire to make French cheeses accessible in the UK. after throwing down some CVs I cycled of into the sunset with a basketful of cheese, some new contacts but a whole new set of problems- it was time to fight the beast of French bureaucracy – I could see its great fat garlic smelling head raising up over the hill. Merde.

Phase 4: “The Battle for Helms-cheese”

So I needed insurance, specifically a ‘convention de stage’ – an elusive document needed for all internships but strangely only provided to students. Thanks France. So… how to get this insane piece of paper, would the messiness of my tiny flat and my love for greasy food be enough to vouch for my student status- not likely. So another journey ensued, through various town halls, job centres and advice bureaus. Suddenly a magical emailed pinged into my inbox. Mons cheese making training centre could sort out my insurance. And so I vanquished the beast of bureaucracy, thrusting a sharpened cheese straw into its stupid, over-organised head and set up two work experience placements, one at the SCAPA a wholesale cheese depot and at Mons Fromagerie, a boutique in Lyon.

Phase 5: “cast it into the gooey, melted fondue from whence it came!”

Just when you thought this blog entry was coming to an end, it continued one for another half a page, just like the popular film and novel  ‘The Lord of the Rings’. And so I defeated my fear of French roads momentarily in order to collect my ‘convention de stage’. After several swerves into the curb, one dangerously sweaty brow, and about a million angry French people over taking me, I finally made it to Mount Doom, hem hem I mean Saint Haon Le Chatel. I was not only presented with my precious document but I also got to dress up in a white suit and was given a tour of the place. Several different cheese cellars hosted multitudes of glorious cheeses maturing away at different humidity’s and temperatures. One was even inside a 200 metre long train tunnel. I had made it, the nerve centre of cheese production and it smelled marvellous. 

Mons' Tunnel d'affinage

A typical Rhone Cheese maker