Fabulous Fromage
The scene is simple, something like this: A round of Epoisses, a sliver of Humboldt Fog, crumbles of Parmiggiano snug against a hill of crusty baguette slices. A bottle of pinot noir and a smattering of wine glasses decorate the table. There. I just described this weekend’s patio party with friends and my last supper.
Cheese… fabulous fromage…I can’t get enough…It lifts my spirits, works overtime fancying up my Crate & Barrel plates and looks perfectly in place on Mamma’s wedding silver.
I’ve always loved the stuff but moving to New York City really did me in. You know how some women want to be let loose inside of Bergdorf’s for a night of retail madness? Well, then there’s me. My first month in the city, I discovered Murray’s Cheese on Bleeker Street. Ever since, I’ve wanted a night alone to explore their caves, maybe crawl inside the front-of-house display case, snuggle up next to a nice Tomme de Savoie, a leg of Jamon Serrano. Let Anthony Bourdain have his “death row meal” of roasted marrow bones with Fergus Henderson. My “last supper” (that just sounds more ladylike than “death row meal”) will be a cheese platter dreamed up by Rob Kaufelt, owner of the cheese Mecca.
And though they’ve yet to give me the keys to the joint—and free reign over their caves— they have made a Murray’s partner. Imagine my joy!
Ladies, if you’ve never visited Murray’s, run to the Bleeker Street or Grand Central Station stores. You live far from the Big Apple? Murray’s By Mail ships everywhere. Whew. I feel a little better knowing that when I leave New York–be it in 6 months of 6 years–I can always have my fabulous fromage…
“Cooking for the SoHo set requires no cooking at all. Forget the girls who only sip champagne and nibble on tofu–they’re not for me. Frankly, I don’t trust you if you don’t eat cheese.”
