The
Guardian - Saturday April 15, 2000
So, I'm standing in Neal's Yard Dairy in Covent Garden while
around me several cheeses lounge about, humming gently to themselves,
and I'm looking for that rarity, the traditional Caerphilly. What's
more, I'm looking for one that topped the league of Welsh cheeses
at last year's British Cheese Awards. Fortunately, Geoffrey can
help. He points me in the direction of the two Caerphillys stocked
by Neal's Yard Dairy (020-7379 7646), one by Chris Duckett, Somerset
cheesemaker and bestower of the Caerphilly baton to one Martin (known
as Todd) Trethowan, whose cheese I've come in search of today.
Maugan
Trethowan, brother and business partner of Todd, describes their
cheese as having "a fresh, lemony taste, slightly salty and
well-rounded; it lasts in your mouth", which is better than
I could have phrased it. Todd and two enthusiastic employees turn
out 114 8lb cheeses every week, all made by hand, from their farm
tucked under the Cambrian mountains in Ceredigion.
So
far, so authentic. They use traditional methods to a traditional
recipe to produce a traditional Caerphilly of the type lugged
underground by Welsh miners in generous, cake-like wedges. It's
a surprise, then, to discover that the gold medal-winning Gorwydd
Caerphilly business is all of four years old, and that the brothers
(whisper it) aren't actually Welsh. Maugan joined the fledgling
family firm only two years ago, turning his back on a career in
archaeology to get his hands stuck into the curds and whey business.
"I'd been involved in helping out before," he says,
"so it was the logical step to join full-time. I was enjoying
archaeology, but the prospect of my own business, making an award-winning
cheese, was a challenge." Besides, he says, the two aren't
so different: "I always enjoyed the physical side of archaeology,
the digging, the hands-on work, being out and about. Cheesemaking
is very similar. There's the same sense of satisfaction."
Founding
partner Todd had solid reasons for choosing the Welsh countryside
to try his hand at making a Caerphilly, though. The Trethowans
have their links with the country, admittedly via Cornwall, but,
more important, after 10 years of working with cheesemakers the
length of Britain, Todd had realised that Welsh-made Caerphilly
was something of an endangered species. A former Neal's Yard Dairy
employee himself, he'd been sent out to learn life at the stickier
end of the business, and found himself happier amid the rennet.
Armed with the Caerphilly recipe divulged to him by Duckett (with
"certain modifications"), Todd decided to go west.
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Ask why a Welsh Caerphilly should be better than a Wherever Caerphilly,
and the reasons come thick and fast. A territorial cheese such
as Caerphilly thrives in certain environmental conditions - rainfall
(presumably lots of), mould and soil types, humidity - which Todd
found in abundance at Gorwydd Farm, wedged between the shadow
of the Cambrians and the banks of the Teifi. Pitching up here
meant a ready supply of real Welsh milk from real Welsh cows belonging
to real Welsh farmers - who, unsurprisingly, are thrilled at the
revival of the dairy tradition on their doorstep. "Our local
ties are important to us," Maugan says. "The farmers
are pleased that we've decided to do this here."
Help
was also forthcoming from various Welsh business agencies, keen
to see Caerphilly re-established in its homeland. In an EC Objective
One area (categorised as being in need of financial assistance
to reach European levels of investment and employment), the Trethowans
are doing their bit to keep the area's dairy heritage healthy.
And, despite plans to boost production of their Caerphilly, they
have no intention of moving out of Ceredigion.
"We're
definitely staying," says Maugan. "We've got a good
system, with enthusiastic people who care about the cheese. We've
no plans to go global." So, despite ferrying their cheeses
to all corners of the kingdom, and even over the waters to America,
the team at Gorwydd Farm will continue to cut the curd and texture
the cheese with minimal mechanical intervention, and to set up
stall at London's Borough Market every weekend to sell big wedges
of Welsh heritage to the vacuum-packed Cheddar generation.
And
my description of the Gorwydd Caerphilly to a member of the aforementioned
generation? I could laud the creamy outside (known as the "breakdown"),
which changes subtly in flavour as the cheese matures, or enthuse
about the firmer, flakier centre, which has more of a kick. But,
most of all, it tastes like cheese - hand-textured, hand-moulded,
hands-on cheese.
Claire
Phillips
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