This little ball of cheesy joy is such a simple pleasure that it's difficult to describe. I taste many complex cheeses that hide their true intentions behind enigmatic personalities, so much so that I sometimes find myself prodding more easygoing varieties for a little bit of attitude. Where's the spark? Where's the drama? How can there be no ulterior motive?
Lille' Coulommiers is special in its forthrightness. It doesn't conjure a show of smoke and mirrors, nor does it tempt you with one flavor just to bait and switch with another. To be sure, I'm a big fan of all these qualities in a cheese; some of my favorite dairies produce mysterious cheeses with flavor profiles that you have to work at discerning. Vermont Farmstead has, however, produced a lovely little exercise in stepping back and being true to yourself (from the cheese's point of view, anyways).
Mushroomy and buttery, with a touch of vegetal funk towards the end, Lille's texture is pure velvet on your tongue. There's a luxurious layer of cow's milk fat here, but it's not overpowering like some of the other creamy cheeses I've written about here. Lille is thicker than a brie and won't run down your knife; instead it stays right where you put it, like an obedient child, and waits patiently for your next move.
To read the rest of the story, please go to: Serious Eats
