Sandwich Valençay
Valençay sandwich: a hand-ladled truncated-pyramid raw-goat cheese from the Berry, ash-coated and sliced down its flat faces, AOP since 1998.
Valençay sandwich: a hand-ladled truncated-pyramid raw-goat cheese from the Berry, ash-coated and sliced down its flat faces, AOP since 1998.
Crottin de Chavignol coins on a buttered baguette, eaten with a glass of white Sancerre off the same flint hillside as the goat pasture.
Salers sandwich: an Auvergne pressed raw-milk cheese made only on summer-pasture milk in a wooden gerle vat, grassier and more rustic than its Cantal cousin.
Sandwich Sainte-Maure-de-Touraine: a baguette built around the Loire goat log, an ash-rolled cylinder with a rye straw at its centre, sliced into even discs with a thread of honey or a walnut.
A ripe Saint-Marcellin pours rather than slices: an 80g Dauphiné cow's-milk disc spooned from its crock onto crusted bread, no butter needed, the cheese doing all the talking.
The Sandwich Roquefort is built on the one major French blue made from sheep's milk, ripened inside a collapsed mountain: a richer, rounder cheese than any cow's-milk blue it gets shelved beside.
Roquefort with walnut halves on a baguette: the classical French cheese-board duo built into a sandwich, the walnut doing as much structural work as the blue.
One thread of honey turns a plain goat round into its own sandwich. Run it light over a young Rocamadour, dark over a firmer one, and the sweet and the lactic tang hold each other up.
The Sandwich Rigotte de Condrieu frames a tiny raw goat cheese from the Pilat slopes above Lyon, its rind freckling blue-grey as it dries, kept spare so the small round is not lost.
Pont-l'Évêque cut into honest slabs along a baguette, rind kept on, eaten with a glass of cidre brut from the Pays d'Auge orchards; the square moulding decides the cut.
The Sandwich Picodon turns on a dry goat cheese that crumbles rather than spreads: a sharp, peppery button from the Drôme and Ardèche, bridged by a thread of honey, on a tight-crumbed baguette.
The Sandwich Pélardon is built on one small Cévennes goat round, caught young and creamy, its lactic tang framed by a thread of chestnut honey on an open-crumbed loaf. Hill cheese folded into bread.
The Sandwich Ossau-Iraty closes a baguette over a thick slab of firm Pyrenean sheep cheese and a smear of Itxassou black cherry jam, the sweet-tart fruit doing the work a slice of ham does elsewhere.
Heart-shaped Neufchâtel cheese sandwich.
Ripe Munster, the orange-rinded washed cheese of the Vosges, met by the warm anise of caraway the Alsatians call cumin. A pairing as old as the mountain pastures both come from.
Gougère (cheese puff) split and filled; Burgundian cheese pastry.
Fresh cheese sandwich; mild, spreadable.
Cheese and butter on baguette; simple classic.
Fourme d'Ambert blue cheese sandwich; milder blue.
Époisses arrives before it does, a pungency that fills a room and clears a train. So soft at its peak it slumps rather than slices, the loaf does the engineering and the cheese is the whole sandwich.
Époisses cheese on bread; very strong, washed rind.
Curé Nantais cheese sandwich; washed-rind, strong.
Slice an aged Crottin de Chavignol into chalky rounds, pour the Sancerre grown on the same hill, and you have the wine country's own cheese sandwich: a 60g goat drum that lives two lives.
One Doubs farm sends milk to the village dairy and raises the pig: smoked Morteau sausage, cooked and cooled, against nutty aged Comté on a crusted baguette. Two protected names from one massif.