|Day 1 Route|
After the aforementioned wedding, we rented a car with the plan of driving around France looking for adventure and cheese and wine. We left Paris and headed for the number one place I wanted to go to. Epoisses. The actual town where the cheese is made.
The first time I had this amazing cheese was at Artisanal, a cheese-centric bistro helmed by Terrance Brennan. The stank of a thousand cheeses kick your teeth in the second you arrive. The first time I ate there, someone at the table ordered this cheese. As it made its way around the table, a pattern started to emerge. Take a bite, eyes roll back in head, moaning. By the time it made its way to me, it was being called 'The Orgasm Cheese'. One bite later, and I pretty much had made a new friend-with-benefits for life.
And now I get to meet her parents...
If you want to know how serious this country is about cheese, I shall simultaneously present to you Exhibit A, and my closing arguments, in the form of a single picture:
The above picture was taken at a GAS STATION off of a highway. A GAS STATION. Have I mentioned that you can PURCHASE GAS AND EPOISSES at the SAME FUCKING PLACE. I wish I had taken a second picture so you could see that this place looked exactly like a GAS STATION. There were refrigerated units with the usual array of softdrinks, pre-packaged sandwiches, maps, potato chips and, oh yeah, intricate, complex and downright funky cheeses that if you opened up in the confines of a car would surely kill you.
I digested that experience for about 45 minutes, before we finally arrived in Epoisses.
|Epoisses. Population: Om Nom Nom|
Turns out, Epoisses isa sleepy little hallow. And not so much sleepy as it was completely. closed. I mean it. Only signs of life were these fine ladies:
|Cows in Epoisses. Let's Pretend Their Milk Makes Epoisses.|
|The best piece of Epoisses I have ever eaten.|
Even though Fromagerie Gaugry was closed, the next day we backtracked up here (~40 minutes) in an attempt to get to the source. Of course, it was. still. closed. But this time just for the standard French lunch hours. yeah, hours. Fuck those guys. Finally, it opened and we did a little tour of the factory. Moneyshot:
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