Ibn Battutah. had a hero for his grand tour, but there is no such inspiration for a grand tour of the world’s finest cheeses. So we have to invent one.
That invention is an imaginary Maitre Fromage – an imaginary cheese expert. We named him St. Deuberex Montclair – a vaguely European gentlemen who in the year 1910, in that innocent age before the World Wars, wrote an imaginary tome called ‘The Cheese Traveler.’ In it he imagined what his circumstance as an educator never allowed him – a guideline to visiting the greatest known artisanal cheeses of the time.
Like Battutah, we also take our first steps here in Tangier, although for different reasons and in different directions. Cheese is thought to have been invented in what is now Arab Africa – perhaps as early as 8,000 B.C. But cheese has made its greatest strides in France, Italy, England and Switzerland, taking on thousands of forms and tastes. Montclair wrote, “This is why you take your first steps at the Straights of Gibraltar, where the Southern Pillar of Hercules points its cultural finger north, to Europe. You nod to the origin and you walk toward the majesty.”
The spidery narrows of Tangier’s medina takes us at last to a small kiosk exclusively selling Berber goat cheese. Mohammed samples a few and at last says, ‘very good.’ He buys us a pie and the three of us sit on stools, picking at the tofu-like cheese.
The cheese is soft and light in flavor. If anything, it tastes strongly of yogurt. For the Muslims in Tangier, this is a specialty to be savored in their ninth month of the year. For us, it is a taste of cheese in its earliest form. While we sit and eat, Jane asks Mohammed about his favorite kind of movie. “American!” he says. “Which movies?” I ask. He says, “Syllesty Styleen!”
“Sylvester Stallone?” Jane says.
“Yes, Rambo! He’s American yes?” “Italian American!”
“Italian American?” He contemplates this while chain-smoking Moroccan cigarettes. I wonder if his chain-smoking is a habit, or if he’s purging before Ramadan.
