On silly rules and how they make no sense.

Stilton is one of the great cheeses of the world. There is probably not a better cheese symbol of Englishness than this crumbly, creamy, blue beauty. There are, however, a few things about this style of cheese that are so bonkers they just confirm its English eccentricity.

To start with, if you lived in the village of Stilton (in Cambridgeshire) and made a lovely blue cheese you would not be allowed to name that cheese "Stilton". This is because, according to the PDO (see below) on Stilton cheese, it has to be made in Nottinghamshire, Derbyshire or Leicestershire. To sum up, a cheese maker can't make Stilton in Stilton.

PDO recognition is a European idea which we have held onto in this post Brexit era. The concept is that the regionality and style and often process surrounding a food product is protected. This is why Camembert only comes from Normandy and Champagne only comes from the region of "Champagne" in North East France. Indeed, a Melton Mowbray pork pie can only come from Melton Mowbray.

The cheese in this matching comes from the Welbeck Estate in Nottinghamshire, which is also the home of Welbeck Brewery and the Artisan School of food. It is also a semi-hard blue cheese in the style of a Stilton. It is, however, not allowed to label itself as a Stilton. In late 1988 through to early 1989 there was an outbreak of food poisoning that was initially attributed to some Stilton cheese. After the investigation there were no pathogens found in any of the cheese and no direct link to the poisoning. However, by the time the dust had settled, it had been decreed in the PDO that Stilton could now only be made with pasteurised milk. 

The cheese we are looking at today is Stichleton which, in style and location is clearly a Stilton but cannot be called that because it is made with unpasteurised milk. This cheese is made on the farm where the milk is produced, the milking parlour is next to the creamery. It is not just the farmhouse authenticity which makes this cheese a classic but also the care and attention put into its making. This starts with the pump taking the milk from the farmer to the cheese maker: it is deliberately slow meaning that the milk is not, in any way changed on this short journey. From this point onward, Joe Schneider and his team treat the product with respect that probably reduces profit but increases quality. The curds are carefully hand ladled to build up and gently drain. This respect for the initial ingredient leads to seasonal variation and nuance leading to excitement with every purchase. With all this to manage it is amazing that it never disappoints.

The cheese is strong and rich but smooth and buttery too. The blue comes into the flavour as a lovely, savoury twist rather than an uninvited guest. It would be very easy to eat vast amounts of this beauty.

The Chiltern Brewery sits at the foot of the Chiltern Hills near Wendover. Last year it celebrated 45 years of brewing. This was a Craft Brewery long before the term existed. They brew traditional beers with the occasional outlier. Their Imperial, Export Stout is not brewed every year. When it is brewed it is made for the Christmas market and often in a small batch with numbered bottles (my bottle was 892). This beer takes 7 months to be ready so the yeast must have been pitched in early Summer. This is not a beer to be hurried in production or drinking.

It comes in at 8.4% alcohol so for sipping and, maybe sharing. It is creamy with a light brown head, spicy notes come from the Fuggles hops and there is a rich, chocolatey taste. The malt comes through and a hint of alcohol warmth on the finish. This is really well made beer.

The cheese and beer combination was a delight leaving this old foodie feeling particularly smug. The upfront sweetness of the beer and the robust saltiness of the cheese bounced off each other giving the palate plenty to think about. The combination was an invitation to relax and allow the conversation to flow.