Stink-a-licious

Foodies follow their noses to embrace pungent cheeses

Stinky cheese is back.

Not that it ever entirely went away, even though only one small cheese factory in North America continues to make Limburger -- the king of smelly cheeses.

Now, though, pungent fromage has been rediscovered by foodies.

And, cheese sellers say, many artisan cheesemakers are creating at least one or two cheeses that pack a punch to the schnozz.

"People are looking to see what's new and there's a big interest in some exciting domestic stinky cheeses," says Norine Mulry, a cheesemonger (yep, that's really her title) at the Marion Street Cheese Market in Oak Park.

Mulry sells a wide range of smelly washed-rind cheeses, which ripen from the outside in and are considered "cool" by foodies.

"Sometimes they will test each other to see if they can handle Limburger -- which certainly has its own aura -- or Epoisses [a powerful French cheese washed in brandy] that ranks right up there with Limburger in terms of odor," she says.

Napoleon was known to be especially fond of Epoisses. But, like Limburger, it is so strong that it has reportedly been banned on some public transport in France.

"Often, though, the bark of these cheeses is worse than the bite," Mulry says. "If you can get past the smell, they present a complex set of flavors that's different than fresh cheeses. Still, a little bit goes a long way."

Richard Wong, Whole Foods specialty department buyer in Chicago, says people have been asking lots of questions about stinky cheeses in recent months.

"They often want to know which one is smelliest," says Wong, who likes to pair his pungent cheeses with salami or fruit.

His favorite: Epoisses when it is young and fruity, before it reaches the "barnyard" stage.

"If it sits too long in your fridge, even in a zip-top bag, you'll need Arm & Hammer baking soda for the smell," adds Wong, who recommends buying small amounts at a time.

"Sometimes people will walk by a display of Vacheron Mont d'Or, a Swiss washed-rind cheese, and say, 'Whoa, where are the smelly socks?' " Wong says. "Then some would taste it, though not necessarily folks who only want your basic yellow Cheddar."

Wong says blue cheeses also can be smelly, but he says they can't hold a candle to their washed-rind varieties.

"In my opinion, the blues have a more musty smell, not really a stink," he says.

Greg O'Neill, co-owner of the Pastoral cheese shops in Chicago, says smelly cheeses long have had their own niche among fromage aficionados. He says part of the reason for the rise in interest is because brew pubs have been promoting cheeses with microbrew beers.

"What I've also noticed is that a lot of artisan cheesemakers are getting more creative, looking to add a pungent wash-rind cheese to their portfolio. That has increased the interest by foodies, who are become more adventuresome," he says.

O'Neill said many nationalities can claim their own stinky cheese, some of which are fruity and mild and won't "blow your mouth away."

"If you are Italian, it's Taleggio; French, Epoisses or Munster," he says. "These are the kinds of cheeses that you love or hate, without a whole lot of room in the middle."

Which brings us back to the fall and rise of Limburger, the granddaddy of surface-ripened cheeses.

Not too many years ago, many American cheese factories made this sometimes notorious cheese.

And Green County, Wis. -- home to Chalet Cheese Cooperative, the country's last Limburger maker -- used to produce 4 million pounds annually in the 1920s and 1930s.

"Tastes change, but now there is a revival and people are saying it smells like perfume again," jokes Myron Olson, master cheesemaker and manager of the Chalet Coop. "The first cheese factory in Green County was a Limburger plant and that was 145 years ago."

In the 1970s, Chalet was producing 2 million pounds of Limburger a year.

But about a decade ago, the demand for Limburger had declined so much that Kraft, which had been buying the smelly cheese from Chalet for 70 years, canceled its contract for 400,000 pounds annually.

After Kraft pulled the plug, production of Limburger dropped to 500,000 pounds. In recent years, it has climbed to 900,000 pounds and is going strong, Olson says. It is now sold under the Country Castle label.

"Now we're just keeping up with demand, and the past five months have been especially strong," says Olson, whose factory also makes firmer, surface-ripened (smelly) German Brick and award-winning baby Swiss and Swiss varieties.

For Limburger and German Brick, Chalet cheesemakers smear a bacteria propagated more than 100 years ago on the surface of the cheese. Not surprisingly, this same bacteria -- Brevibacterium linens -- is found on human skin and is partially responsible for human body odor.

"Stinky cheeses also seem to really have caught on with farmstead cheesemakers in this country," says Olson, 56. "But they don't call it Limburger, even though it's very similar.

"They give it another name because Limburger is something a lot of people will turn

their noses up at because it was that 'stinky, inexpensive working man's cheese' that grandpa or their old uncle ate.

"But if you call it St. Michael's Reserve, for example, people will smell it but still try it and then say, 'I'd like some more.' "

Limburger still retails for around $7 a pound, while artisan rind-wash cheeses can cost $20 to $30 a pound.

Over at Baumgartner's, a 78-year-old tavern in nearby Monroe, Wis., the construction workers sidled up to the bar don't mind the smell or the taste.

Nor does Baumgartner's co-owner Chris Soukup, who sells up to 100 pounds of the cheese a week.

"I grew up eating Limburger and really like the flavor," says customer Jeff Hochman, 42, of McConnell, Ill. "The smell doesn't bother me a bit."

"My grandfather was from Switzerland and my father was a cheesemaker, so I love this stuff," says Hochman, who was eating a no-frills sandwich made of Limburger on rye bread with onion.

He and friend Mike Daughenbaugh, also of McConnell, washed down their lunches with a beer and then topped it off with a small piece of chocolate.

Olson says Limburger and other surface-ripened cheeses don't have much of an aroma or taste when they are young. At two weeks, Limburger tastes much like feta. By three months, it's pungent and beginning to soften and is best served on crackers or dark bread with fruit.

Some cooks put it in creamy potato soup or on top of boiled potatoes.

To reduce the smell -- if you are so inclined -- Olson suggests quickly disposing of the wrapper, scrubbing off the surface of the cheese or even cutting away the rind to remove the more intense flavor and bacteria. Then, store it in a zip-top bag in the fridge (the aging process will continue).

Four to five months is the die-hard Limburger-lover range, Olson says. By six months, the bacteria will have broken down most of the protein and made the cheese almost runny, with an overpowering, ammonia-like smell.

After that, Olson says, it might well be time to throw it out.

"By then, few would say it's perfumey anymore," he says.

Brian E. Clark is a Madison, Wis.-based free-lance writer.