Cheese of the Week: Jarlsberg

Ahh, straight from Oslo, it’s a cheese with holes in it that’s not a Swiss cheese. It’s Jarslberg, a cheese that’s almost as fun to say and to spell as it is to cut up and eat.

Amy and I thought a nice big wedge of Jarslberg would probably make a perfect late-night snack, so we picked up some crackers to go with it, and I managed to snag a couple of real, actual glass bottles of Coca-Cola as well. Maybe it’s not super-fancy, but it seemed like just what we were craving.

Immediately upon peeling back the plastic and sinking a knife (a mini cleaver, actually, perfect for cheesing) into the firm flesh of the cheese, we knew that we had made the right decision. There wasn’t a pungent smell. There wasn’t a weird consistency. There wasn’t any mold. There was just a plain wax rind — one that came off easily — and a pale yellow cheese that had pleasing holes in it.

There weren’t quite as many holes as in the stereotypical Swiss-style cheese, but this was a cheese that was definitely pock-marked. And seeing as how we had bought it in a wedge, it was about as “cheesy” as you can get. This is a real-life cheese that cartoon mice would fight over.

Or, actually, it’s a knock-off.

Apparently, you see — at least, according to the official history at jarlsberg.com — the cheese is a modern re-invention:

In 1830, the Swiss came to Norway’s Jarlsberg and Laurvig County (known as Vestfold County today) to teach the Norwegians to make cheese. These foreign master cheese makers were famous for making cheese with holes. There was active production in Norway until 1832. The cheese disappeared but the tale of its delicious taste was still in memory.
In 1956, the academic community at the Agricultural University of Norway at Ås undertook the task of reviving the cheese recipe from 1830. Professor Ole Martin Ystgaard and his team developed during his research a semi-hard, medium-fat cheese with holes, successfully combining the cheese-making traditions with modern technologies. The new cheese was named Jarlsberg after the county, where the earlier version had been made at the beginning of the 19th century. A new cheese category was established.

The export of Jarlsberg started cautiously in 1961. Today, TINE BA exports a total of 12,500 tonnes of Jarlsberg, with the USA, Canada, Australia and the EU being our most important markets.

And we here in Canada thank those hard-working scientists!

Jarslberg cuts like a dream. It is firm enough to hold its shape, but it’s not so hard that you have to grate it. A child could cut this cheese. In fact, a child would probably clamour to cut this cheese, since it’s so fun to cut through, and to have the knife follow a straight line (one of my cheese pet peeves is when your knife jags to the inside or out, maing slices into wedges). The best part, though, is feeling the blade of your knife give way under each bubble of a hole in the cheese.

I placed this cheese onto a rye-flavoured Triscuit, but I have to admit that most of the cheese was eaten all by its lonesome. The mildness of the cheese requires less of a cracker than the hearty Triscuit.

But, it’s still pretty good. And let me tell you that the fizziness of the Coke is a not-to-be-sneezed-at accompaniment to this fine cheese.

Jarlsberg, as you might expect, tastes a lot like Swiss, sort of nutty, but it has a character all its own. I found it almost sweet — and difficult to stop eating. Amy had to take it away from me, in the end. Although it looks shiny, I never found it to be greasy, nor did it “squeak” like oily cheeses sometimes can.

I saved some of this cheese in the fridge, and I am eagerly looking forward to melting it on a sandwich. I think it would go really well with turkey or ham — and maybe a sweet orange pepper.

Good cheese!