Les Vaches

It was astounding how many beasties could fit in this corner of Paris.

Just when I thought I saw everything, another building would appear and more rows upon rows of animals and food vendors would appear. How exhausting!

For the person who has it all:

They need more cow bells.

My favorite kind of cow is this one: soulful kohl-lined eyes and big flirty lashes.

The Normandy cows with spectacles are the ones responsible for Camembert production, so they can be listed as a favorite as well. I actually found a vendor there who had my favorite super special Camembert from the farm we visited last June and I urgently bought the last wheel from her. It's fantastic stuff, and I feel sad for you if you can only get the rubbery processed stuff in the states.

May lactose intolerance never strike me.

While the facilities management here was on top of the manure situation and the odor management was pretty tolerable for an indoor location, I really could only drift into the cochon section very briefly. The pigs themselves are not malodorous, but anyone who has passed a pig farm on a hot day can attest to the fact they do leave a pretty strong present for their handlers to clean up.

There were also some gorgeous chickens and fouls and buns, but anything in a cage is pretty much unconvincing and pointless to try and photograph, so I just can't be bothered.

What was also kind of an interesting observation was the crowd. There was a lack of chic noire-wearing Parisian ladies and men in skinny suits flitting around, and a plethora of sturdy country folk who speak slow enough for me to actually understand what they are saying (it's not me, it's you, Paris...). Despite the crazy amounts of amazing food, it seems like most of the locals aren't around despite heavy advertising in the Metros.

A Visit to Camembert, in Which I Decide to Stay Forever

A sight that made my knees weak...

The village of Camembert seems disproportionately small compared to its thunderous name.

Here, you will find a museum of the history of Camembert (the product, not the town), and a gift shop in the shape of a box of Camembert. In order to make a camembert cheese, your milk has to come from cows in the surrounding region.

The whole area is overrun with happy bovines.

Tastings of the fragrant fromage abound...

Sadly, the enormous producer that makes President has threatened the way of life of the few small producers. President makes an industrialized, pasteurized product meant for the mass market- you can get this cheese in New York and it taste much the same as it does in Normandy. The smaller farms concentrate on gorgeous raw-milk cheese ("au lait cru" in French) that take three times as long to age and are still made by hand every step of the way. The difference in taste between the raw-milk and the pasteurized cheese is enormous. While the President cheese tastes bland and has a rubbery texture, the raw milk cheese has a fragrance of flowers and grass and herbs that cooking the milk in pasteurization destroys. At room temperature (which is the only temperature that you should be eating good cheese), it gets slightly runny and it fills the room with the distinctive "Le pied de Dieu" scent, with the soft downy rind holding everything together. It's night and day. The old way of doing things is simply better. If the few that preserve this method disappear, so does this cheese in its perfect form.

Francios Durand is one of those producers and this might have been one of the best bits of fromage I've ever had the pleasure of sinking my teeth into. They actually call him the last of the Mohicans here. Really. Here's an article from the NY Times from a few years back about him.

You can visit his dairy farm and see the whole process in action, or visit one of the dairies he sources milk from.

Not to slight them, but the towns of Livarot and Pont-l’Évêque are nearby as well and worth a visit. Livarot has a large museum and shop that covers a good portion of Normandy cheese.