Every Cheese has its Season

A seasonal cheese. That was a new one on me. I am in a country where even the cows are so snotty they don't give milk out of season.

Mont d'Or, the "Mountain of Gold" cow's milk cheese from the Jura region, is only available September through May. Why? During the warmer months, the cows mow their way across the Alpine hills, decimating anything green in their path. The cheese that's made from this richer milk is the creamy, semi-hard Comte that's a staple on the French dinner table. But during the winter months, the milk produced is thinner, and not suited to Comte. Voila! The birth of Mont d'Or, a softer cheese that's smooth and delicate.

One can eat Mont d'Or straight out of its round, wooden container. But, the true Mont d'Or-ites know better: melted in its own container, straight out of the oven, with Stuff dunked into it.

Stuff = pan-sauteed potatoes, rustic bread, broccoli, apples, etc.

"So it's a fondue," I say with the *Ah Ha I So Get It!* tone.

"No, it's Mont d'Or," says F.

"Uhhh... mmm... okay," I say, my *Ah Ha I So Get It* rapidly fading.

"Fondue is fondue. Mont d'Or is Mont d'Or," F repeats with the extreme patience of who has entered the *She's A Foreigner And She So Does Not Get It* realm of the conversation.

Ok, so what's the difference? From what I can understand "real" fondue is specific to stuff melted or cooked in a small cauldron at the table, and nobody says "Let's have fondue tonight." If you do, the average French person will respond, "What kind of fondue?"

I'm getting off-track here, this is supposed to be about Mont d'Or. The Internet is a beautiful thing if you want to know more about fondue.

Mont d'Or, however melted the cheese may be, doesn't qualify as "fondue" as it's not prepared in a cauldron. It's actually more simple than fondue. 1) Place in piping-hot oven. 2) When it starts to boil over, take out, serve. There are variations, of course. For example, F. prepares it by taking out a small spoonful of cheese from the middle and filling the hole with a dry white wine (not too acidic.) During the melting process the wine mixes with the melting cheese, filling it with heavenly aroma.

As for how it came about that people melt the Mont d'Or in its own skin, nobody really knows, it was lost in legend at the French-Swiss border. There are stories and opinions, of course, but what really matters is that there's nothing better than a hot Mont d'Or on a cool, rainy autumn evening with a glass of beer... and a gaggle of noisy French diners fighting at the table over the last scraps at the bottom of the wooden box. Because if there are two things in the world the French are good at, it's making cheese and waging war.