Saint Agur
I have not given up on my quest to taste all soft blue cheeses. Mild and squishy Saint Agur still needs to be added to the list. It’s a classy $19/lb cheese, not to be found just anywhere. I recently picked up the last sliver on display (they had more in the basement but I’m ok with the dregs) at Stinky Bklyn where I was putting a birthday gift certificate to good use.
I got side tracked by Beeler Hoch Ybrig, a gruyere-like cheese that’s super-nutty. I guess it smells, though I’m under-sensitive to strong food odors. I do know that when I attempted the wretched master cleanse, one tiny bite of this cheese induced serious regurgitation.
I’ve learned my lesson with the chunky jamon Serrano at Stinky Bklyn, so I opted for lomo embuchado instead. This cured pork, they cut on a slicer. And I swear to god, I’m not a stickler but I wonder if it’s not meant to be cut paper thin? It looks hefty in photos. All I know is that it’s like a phantom food. No matter how many see-through circles you pick up and chew, there’s no flavor. It’s caloric air.
The Vosges Barcelona Bar was much more satisfying. While I rarely salt my savory food, I love it with caramels and chocolate. Hickory smoked almonds and sea salt are a good combo, and I liked that this used milk chocolate rather than a hardcore, high cocoa percentage dark.
Whenever I’m not spending my own money, I’m inclined to experiment with foofy beverages. The unknown liquid in this instance was Bottle Green Lemongrass and Ginger Soda. I don’t normally drink soda, sweet liquids have never done much for me, but when I’m feeling wild I’ll splurge on fizzy, juicy things like Kristall (not Cristal). So, Bottle Green isn’t really a soda; it’s not even carbonated. That kind of sucked because one of my core requirements for a refreshing beverage is the presence of bubbles. If I were one for crafting fabulous cocktails, this spicy citrus water might make a good mixer.
Oh yes, back to the cheese. Keeping with my dated palate, Saint Agur was invented in the late ‘80s. I wouldn’t say it tastes grungy, though. When it’s cold the texture is thick and substantial, barely blue, more like Laughing Cow than brie, despite a 60% fat content. After warming up, the cheese develops a subtle spiciness with little aftertaste. All in all, very straightforward and clean, not funky in the least. Almost too refined for me—I’d prefer something a touch trashier.
Previously in soft blues:
Saga
Cambozola
Mountain Top Blue
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