When the invite popped into the Food Snob’s inbox last week, I was instantly skeptical: “Come to a tasting event at Butter’s,” it told me. “New Hampshire made cheese and beer will be served!”
I raised my eyebrows and grimaced. Cheese and beer together? Really? I flashed back to an unfortunate night in college (pre-Food Snob days) when, on a dare, I downed a 12-pack of Natty Light and an entire pot of fondue.
Would this tasting too be something I regretted in the morning?
Never one to turn down a gastronomic adventure (or a fat Insider paycheck), I rang up my BFF, food critic Mark Bittman, for some advice.
“Don’t get me wrong, Bitty,” I told him. “You know the Food Snob loves beer as much as the next Barney Gumble, but the idea of mixing brewski with cheese, well, it feels a little sacrilegious.”
“I’m sure the pairings will be exquisite. These people are professionals,” he told me, his voice filled with a forced sense of reassurance. “Don’t be such a poached chicken. I’ve got to go now. My paella is burning.”
He hung up.
I popped a few antacid and made my way to Butter’s. Inside, I was greeted by Bill Herlicka, the one-man operation behind the Hooksett-based White Birch Brewing and self-described lover of “strong, adventurous beers.”
Bill started me off with his Belgian Style Pale, which was crisp and dry. It was a little tart for my liking, though I thought I detected a bit of honey. Next was the Dubbel, a nice, dark Belgian with a smooth, brown sugary taste. Yum.
In the middle of our conversation about the brewing process (he makes beer in three-barrel batches, which equates to about 90 gallons of beer), Bill recommended I try the cheese. With the beer.
I paused. Sensing my trepidation, Mark Robie, owner of Robie Farm in Piermont, nodded and waved me over.
“All you need to do is trust what’s naturally there,” Mark said soothingly. “Listen to the palate.”
As I tried to become one with my pallet, Mark told me about his family’s cheese-making operation. Apparently, the cheese ages on boards made of wood and ash, instead of in stainless steel, which “simulates the aspects of a cave,” he said. And get this: Marks starts the process while the milk is still warm from the cow, meaning it’s not pasteurized and has a more complex flavor.
I first tried his Piermont cheese, which had a light cheddar-like aroma and nice buttery texture. Next was the Swaledale, which was sharp, tangy and reminded me of a Parmesan, and finally, the Toma, a mature, gouda-like treat. Each was unique and wonderful in its own way.
And guess what? It was pretty good with the beer.
“A really good beer can bring out the complimentary flavors in a really good cheese,” Bill told me as I sipped on the Indulgence, a chocolate-flavored-yet-not-super-sweet concoction. “It’s all about balance.”
For more information about tastings at Butter’s, visit buttersfinefood.com.
Something the Food Snob learned during her trip:
Butter’s now serves lunch. Here are a few options sure to induce some serious chop licking: the Billie sandwich, with sliced smoked salmon served on fresh-baked bread with crème fraiche, capers and greens; and a tuna salad Provencal plate, served on a bed of greens with fresh-baked bread.
