I did something bold. I brought Camembert… to France. As if France needed more Camembert! Ha! As if France didn’t have enough delicious, fine Camembert! Ha! Ha! Well, I just thought that if I could make Camembert, bring it to France and share it with my family (provided it survived the trip), then yes, France needed one more Camembert. Mine. Not because it’s better (definitely not… although turns out, quite close), but because it’s something I made with my hands, with care, with love and with my family in mind the whole time.
I packed two of them tight is a double zip-lock bag for both exposure to air and to prevent the smell to leak! Uh yes, it was smelly. I didn’t want any airport dogs detecting it and wanting to eat it, so I sealed it really well and put it in one of those thermal lunch bags. Turns out it came out pretty soft and stinky, but apparently, so my family says, pretty good!
I loved writing on that label, origin: USA, producer: Stephanie, and crossing out “purchased” for “made”. Ha! So funny… to me.
The first glimpse of the small wheel was promising.
A nice white and yellow, wrinkly crust, wrapped a soft body when pressed down gently.
Indeed pretty soft when the knife went through.
Ta-da! A really creamy, gooey thick edge with a slightly firmer center.
By now Justin was in another room pinching his nose. Just kidding, he had a piece. I think. Hmm I’ll have to ask him. Maybe he’s traumatized forever with my stinky, but – so my Mom, Dad, Sister, aunt and grand-ma say – accurate cheese.
I can’t believe it! I made Camembert! In my kitchen! In San Francisco! I put it on a plane for 14 hours and it made it onto plates in France! And people liked it! Or everyone was very polite with me. Hmm…