Legal vs. Authentic StiltonStilton is one of the world’s great cheeses. So great, in fact, that its name is now protected by English food regulations, much the same way that France restricts what can be called Champagne and Scotland, Scotch.
To earn the time-honored name of Stilton, a cheese must be produced in one of the three English Counties of Derbyshire, Nottinghamshire and Leicestershire. Critically, Stilton must NOW be made from pasteurized milk.
Stilton was first made in the 1700s. Louis Pasteur wasn’t born until 1822. Clearly, the first Stilton cheese was been made from unpasteurized, raw milk. So what we now enjoy as true and sanctioned Stilton is not, technically speaking, authentically prepared or made in the way it once was.
However, an English cheesemaker called
Stichelton is bringing back the old ways of making an English blue cheese from unpasteurized milk. According to Lydia Burns, cheesemonger at Marion Street Cheese Market, “they’re trying to resurrect the original and invoke a form of Stilton that most people haven’t tasted.”
In a 2010 segment I created and produced for WBEZ Worldview, I had two sets of camembert made for me by a private cheesemaker. One set used pasteurized and the other unpasteurized milk. Most people, including illustrious notables GWiv and MikeG, knew immediately which one was raw. The unpasteurized cheese was more funky looking and seductively smelly, it had more personality and depth, and it was collapsing in on itself, as the life within churned away, creating wonderful flavors.
There's more going on in raw milk so it often (though certainly not always) leads to a cheese of greater complexity.
Recently, Burns and me sampled a Stichelton and an officially sanctioned Stilton.

The Stichelton, with fewer blotches of blue mold, didn’t look as tasty. Burns describes it as “deceptively mild, creamy and fudge-y, so it balances the spiciness of the blue cheese.” I found it a lot like biting into a stick of right-out-of-the-refrigerator butter – dense and not as crumbly as a lot of blues. “It’s very luscious,” Burns observed, “and dynamic: it’s so much a product of place and time that it captures those changes throughout the year.”

The Stilton from Colston Basset packed more punch, the acidity playing against the creaminess, to fill the mouth with deep flavors. This does not mean that pasteurized is better: with a cheese like this, there are a lot of environmental factors to consider (the molds used, the way the cheese was matured, how the affineur brought the cheese to completion). Colston Basset is what I expect a Stilton to be, not as surprising or maybe as interesting across the seasons as the Stichelton, but still, a model of its type and an excellent cheese.

Tonight, I’m going to try both cheeses again, paired with Cockeyed Cooper, a Bourbon barrel-aged barley wine ale.
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