I'm immensely and irrationally proud of my home made cream cheese - irrational, since nothing could be easier ... take a large pot of Greek yoghurt, add a squeeze of lemon juice and a pinch of salt, and strain through cheese cloth in a sieve, in the fridge, for a couple of days. There you are - solid and sliceable, and adorned with fresh tarragon, which mysteriously had survived the winter, including last weekend's snow. Of course, it's now 862 miles away, and given that my luggage was searched when the TSA discovered two onions, one lime, two lemons, one garlic clove and a bunch of cilantro, it's probably a good idea that I googled "freeze cream cheese?" and did just that.
There's a faint, very faint pattern of cheese cloth on the surface. Back in 1970, going with Gwen Pascal to the weekly market in Deauville, we bought some cream cheese that was very like this. When we brought it back to the house where we were staying, it had a highly similar pattern - and that was the moment when we realized that the cheese cloth was actually a recycled pair of men's aertex underpants, label still in place ...
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