My First Serious Lesson About French Food: Cheese

Twenty years ago, I stumbled onto a book that would change the way I tasted the world. The Cheese Primer by Steven Jenkins wasn’t just a book—it was a revelation. Thick, passionate, and unapologetically detailed, it read like a love letter to curds and rinds. Jenkins didn’t merely list cheeses; he took you to the pastures of Normandy, the caves of Roquefort-sur-Soulzon, and the alpine dairies where time slows to the rhythm of fermentation.

I bought the book as a curiosity. I kept it as a sacred text.

Now, two decades later, I’m re-reading those France chapters, the pages dog-eared and stained with butter and memory. Why? Because this year, Christmas in my home will be a celebration of all things French. And in 2026, I’ll return to France—with more reverence in my heart and more room in my suitcase for cheese.

If France is a mosaic of culture and cuisine, cheese is its edible geography. Jenkins helped me see that. Here’s a taste of what I’m savoring once again—France’s finest cheeses, region by region, as taught by a man who knew his wheels and wedges.

Normandy: Creamy Dreams

Normandy is the land of cows, apple orchards, and cheeses so rich you feel like you’re committing a mild sin by eating them. Here I met:

• Camembert de Normandie – Earthy, oozy, and protected by AOC (Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée), the real Camembert is a revelation. Nothing like the pale imitators at the grocery store.
• Pont-l’Évêque – One of France’s oldest cheeses, square in shape and washed in brine, giving it a soft yet pungent aroma.
• Livarot – The so-called “Colonel” because of the stripes around its rind, it’s stinkier and funkier than Camembert—and I love it for that.

Burgundy: Wine and Rind

Where there’s wine, there must be cheese. Burgundy does not disappoint:

• Époisses de Bourgogne – This is not a cheese for the timid. Washed in marc de Bourgogne, a brandy made from grape skins, Époisses is pungent, creamy, and a little indecent. Napoleon adored it. So do I.
• Soumaintrain – Like Époisses’ younger, milder cousin, it’s also washed and smelly—but in a cozy way, like the funky wool sweater of cheeses.

Auvergne: Volcanic Flavors

In the heart of France’s volcanic mountains, the cheeses are bold, rustic, and unforgettable:

• Bleu d’Auvergne – A creamy blue cheese with a mild tang, it’s approachable and perfect with a drizzle of honey.
• Fourme d’Ambert – One of France’s oldest cheeses, cylindrical and noble, with veins of blue running like marble through a pale paste.
• Cantal – A hard, aged cheese with hints of hazelnut and earth. If Cheddar took a sabbatical in the Massif Central, it would come back as Cantal.

The Alps: Peaks of Pleasure

Up where cowbells echo across the slopes, we find:

• Reblochon – Soft, nutty, and often baked into tartiflette with potatoes, onions, and bacon. A winter miracle.
• Beaufort – The “Prince of Gruyères,” used in fondue and blessed with a floral aroma and crystalline texture.
• Tomme de Savoie – Rustic and earthy with a dusty gray rind, it tastes like a walk through a mountain meadow.

Provence and Corsica: Sun-Kissed and Wild

The cheeses here are often made with goat’s milk and infused with herbs from the rocky terrain:

• Banon – Wrapped in chestnut leaves and soaked in eau-de-vie, it’s tangy, strong, and completely seductive.
• Brocciu (Corsica) – A fresh sheep’s cheese, used in both savory and sweet dishes. Corsicans eat it like we eat yogurt.

Loire Valley: Goat Cheese Heaven

If you’ve ever fallen in love with goat cheese, it likely started here:

• Crottin de Chavignol – Tiny, aged goat cheese rounds that go from tangy and crumbly to creamy and intense as they age.
• Sainte-Maure de Touraine – A log of goat cheese rolled in ash, with a straw running through its center. Elegant and iconic.
  

Basque Country and Pyrenees: A Shepherd’s Delight

In the southwest, cheese has a pastoral soul:

• Ossau-Iraty – A sheep’s milk cheese with a smooth, nutty flavor. Pairs perfectly with black cherry jam and a glass of Irouléguy wine.

And of course… Roquefort

No list is complete without Roquefort—France’s blue-blooded blue cheese. Aged in the natural Combalou caves, veined with Penicillium roqueforti, it’s powerful, creamy, salty, and divine. If you think you don’t like blue cheese, Roquefort might just convert you. It did me.

Back in 2005, I didn’t know what I was getting into when I cracked open Jenkins’ Cheese Primer. Now, it’s one of the most beloved books in my kitchen. Re-reading it today, I realize this is more than a study of cheese—it’s a study of place, of patience, of the poetry of food.

This Christmas, I’ll light candles and serve a French cheese board with reverence. And in 2026, when I land in France again, I won’t just be a tourist—I’ll be a pilgrim, returning to sacred dairy ground.

The lesson was serious, yes. But it was also delicious.

Connoisseur, Julie Bolejack, MBA