effing Beemster, guys. Netherland. 3 year old. notes of maybe caramel or butterscotch, nutty, reminds one that there is complexity in cheese beyond varying styles and extremes of stinking like corpseflesh. i went to the fromagerie looking for mimolette, because i had been totally blown away by one i’d tried in London (similar taste notes to the above), and the fromagerer was kind enough to alert me to the existence of beemster, also a gouda relation, with a cost half that of the mimolette.
in other news, i took my (shitty) camera to the (sandy) beach, and now it clicks and twitches like an ailing Johnny 5, and wants to focus like i want to get out of bed in the morning, so be prepared for a whole new baseline of amateurishness in my food photos.