The Childhood Memories

When i was 7 years old i used to go on summer holidays for a whole month to my grand parent’s mémé Jeanne

and Pépé Charlot in Ardèche, a region located between Lyon and Marseille which looks like the South African Karoo.

Our daily program was alway the same, we would wake up early, have a bite and then go fishing in the Ardeche River,

Pépé on his Solex (a very old moppet) and me on my bicycle.  Before leaving the house Pépé would breake a piece of

goat cheese from the one that he was maturing in his cellar. The cheese was so hard that i could not chew it but only

suck it like a sweetie, and for the next hour or so that “thing” would slowly dissolve in my mouth, diffusing its strong

taste and unique aroma. At the time i thought that it was strange that i could not have normal sweets like all the other kids,

but with time i realized that  Pépé was honoring me much more with a piece if his own creation rather than a sweetie bought

at the shop. It tought me to appreciate the taste of goat cheese from an early age and also that good things take time and

patience which is such a valuable lesson in this day and age were the dominating rule is Speed. Pepe Charlot diligently bought

fresh cheese at the market once a week, the cheese had not particular quality other than being made out of raw goats milk,

and its taste was very plain, but Pépé would place these fresh cheeses in his fromager ( a special wooden box hanging from

the ceiling in the cellar) and everyday he would turn them and check them, he even spoke to them, i could her him talk

through the wooden door and there was nobody inside with him. So with one type of cheese he was able through maturation

to produce 6 to 7 different sorts of cheese. So today when i make cheese or when i make people taste my cheese i can feel

my grand father’s presence over my shoulder, and this is why i usually say that when you eat my cheese it doesn’t just feed

your stomach but it also feeds your Soul.