(photo by wm. christman)
There is always cheese in my fridge. Always. And it's pretty rare to have small scraps of cheese left over. The urge to wrap them up by popping them into my mouth overrides the tearing-off-some-parchment muscle memory. Once it's gone, it's gone. That flies in the face of making fromage fort which is supposed to be made with random scraps of leftover cheese. If there's never any scraps left then...cannot....make...fromage...fort...then...brain...hurts. Bad.
Since fromage fort is just one of those things that is nice to have around as fodder for a midnight pantry raid or when getting a surprise visit from whoever, I always want some nearby. And truth be told: I don't snack anywhere around midnight. But I'm kicthen-knife capable and just murderous on food like this during the daylight hours. I got locked into the "must have scraps" mode for a while but started to cheat by cutting bits and pieces off of the larger pieces of cheese and just getting down to business.
fromage fort in its natural habitat... (photo by wm. christman)
As with many foods that are pure satisfaction, fromage fort is simply made. The added bonus is that you can use cheese that seemed like a good idea to buy at the time but ended up being less then, well, adequate.
Cheshire cheese falls squarely into this camp for me. Often I am seduced by the ruggedly smooth face of a Cheshire wedge and pushed over the edge by a good per pound price. The anticipation of that cheddar smack and tang quickly crumbles into a chalky, bland, less-than-dense mess. I feel cheap, used, and left to cry into the pint of ale that was supposed to provide a post-cheddargasm cuddle. You'd think I would learn by now.
However, this cheese makes a great fromage fort base and its crumbly, mealy texture is ground into smooth submission (yes!) as the carrier for the other cheese flavors. So Cheshire better watch it's ass because I now hold the upper hand...er, knife.
five cheeses, no waiting... (photo by wm. christman)
The version of fromage fort shown in the pictures here was made from 5 different cheeses: the aforementioned Cheshire, a Fiscalini San Joaquin Gold (a semi-hard cheese similar to a Gruyere), a slightly creamy Italian Gorgonzola, a random white sharp cheddar and a piece of the super-delicious Herve Mons Camembert.
Beyond the cheese, all you need is a food processor (a blender on a slower speed would work too) and some white wine. You could add garlic if you wanted - lots of online recipes use it - I prefer to let the cheese do all the flavorizing.
If you want a smoother fromage fort (and I prefer it this way), then chop up and process the semi-hard cheese first. The Fiscalini was just shy of a dried Asiago in hardness so it got chopped with the white cheddar and thrown for a spin in the food processor. This makes it easier to blend the rest of the cheese, especially the softer ones, to make a smooth texture.
before and after adding wine (photo by wm. christman)
Add the rest of the cheeses in semi-hard-to-soft order, stopping to scrape the bowl to keep things moving. Once you've got everything pretty well macerated, add small amounts of wine carefully blending until fully incorporated - remember you're essentially mixing water and fat so you want to make sure to get some emulsification.
Keep at it until you get a spreadable texture. Because the food processor warms the cheese up a bit, it can appear to be pretty runny. Once it is refrigerated, it will firm up into a dense spread. By now, you've probably tasted your creation so add some seasoning if you prefer. Salt, pepper, fresh herbs all can be added. Stir or pulse those in.
the finished product, packed and ready to go (photo by wm. christman)
Scrape the fromage out of the processor and pack it into containers and refrigerate. I like to use clay crocks for their decorative look but you can use any container you want. If you just can't wait, eat some now and eat some after it has firmed up. Because it is all cheese (mostly), the same cheese temperature/texture/taste dynamics apply.
Fromage fort rarely lasts more than a week in my fridge. The mere fact that it is sitting there just waiting for application to toast, a schmear on flat bread, melting on top of a seared piece of beef, or paired with some freshly sautéed green vegetables, makes it a constantly endangered species. Speaking of which, the batch you see here is gone, gone, gone...time to go on a Cheshire hunt.
