If your fondue has ever gone from dreamy and glossy to oily, stringy, or weirdly clumpy in the pot, the cheese is usually the reason. Not just the type, either – the blend. The best cheese for fondue is almost never a single cheese doing all the work. It is a team effort, and once you know which cheeses bring melt, flavor, and stability, homemade fondue gets a whole lot easier.

Fondue should feel a little festive and a lot low-stress. You want that smooth, savory swirl that coats bread without turning into glue five minutes later. So let’s talk about which cheeses are actually worth grating, which combinations taste the best, and how to choose a blend that fits your crowd.

What is the best cheese for fondue?

For most home cooks, the best cheese for fondue is a mix of Gruyere and Emmental. That classic pairing gives you the balance that fondue needs. Gruyere brings the nutty, salty, rich flavor. Emmental softens the sharpness and adds that mellow, buttery melt that keeps the whole pot from tasting too heavy.

If you want one answer and not ten caveats, start there. A half-and-half blend is dependable, crowd-pleasing, and close to the traditional Swiss style most people picture when they think of cheese fondue.

That said, there is some wiggle room. If you like a bolder, deeper cheese flavor, use more Gruyere. If you want a milder fondue for a mixed group or family night, lean a little more on Emmental. The best choice depends on whether you want your fondue cozy and subtle or rich with a little bite.

Why blends work better than a single cheese

Listen, I get it – using one cheese sounds easier. But fondue is one of those dishes where the blend really matters.

Some cheeses melt beautifully but taste mild. Others have fantastic flavor but can turn greasy or tight when heated. A smart fondue mix solves both problems at once. You are combining cheeses for taste and texture, not just tossing in whatever is in the fridge.

Gruyere and Emmental work because they cover each other’s weak spots. Gruyere gives fondue personality. Emmental keeps it approachable and smooth. That balance is exactly why the pairing has stuck around.

You can absolutely branch out, but the goal stays the same. Pick one cheese that melts cleanly and one that adds depth. Once you think about fondue that way, building your own blend gets much less intimidating.

The best cheeses for fondue, one by one

Gruyere

If fondue had a star player, this would be it. Gruyere is nutty, savory, slightly sweet, and deeply cheesy without being aggressive. It melts well and gives fondue that classic alpine flavor people go back for.

It can make a fondue feel richer and more complex, but on its own it may taste a little intense for some palates. That is why it shines even brighter in a blend.

Emmental

Emmental is the quiet hero. It is mild, buttery, and smooth-melting, which makes it ideal for balancing stronger cheeses. If Gruyere is the flavor engine, Emmental is the texture support.

Used alone, it can feel a little too gentle. In fondue, though, that gentleness is useful. It rounds things out and helps the pot stay mellow and silky.

Fontina

Fontina is a great option if you want something lush and creamy with a softer flavor profile. It melts beautifully and gives fondue a velvety texture that feels especially inviting for American home cooks who want comfort over sharpness.

The trade-off is that it does not have the same classic Swiss character. If tradition matters, use Fontina as part of the blend rather than the whole base.

Appenzeller

This one is punchier, earthier, and more assertive. A little Appenzeller can make fondue taste extra special, especially if you like more depth and funk. It is fantastic for a dinner party crowd that appreciates stronger cheese.

Too much, though, and it can overpower the pot. Think of it as a supporting cheese, not the entire plan.

Raclette

Raclette has that gorgeous melt and a rich, slightly funky flavor that feels made for cold-weather entertaining. It adds body and warmth in a way that is incredibly satisfying.

It is not always the easiest cheese to find depending on where you shop, and the flavor can get heavy if it is the main cheese. Blend it with Gruyere or Emmental for the best results.

Comte

Comte is polished, nutty, and layered, with a flavor that can taste a little fruity or browned-butter-like depending on the age. It is excellent in fondue if you want something elegant and deeply savory.

The downside is price. If you are feeding a crowd, Comte may not be the most budget-friendly choice for the whole pot. But mixed with more accessible cheeses, it can bring a lot of personality.

Cheeses that are not the best fit

Not every melty cheese belongs in fondue. Cheddar can taste great, but it tends to separate more easily and pushes the whole dish toward queso territory. Mozzarella gets stretchy instead of silky. Fresh goat cheese can make the texture chalky. Very aged hard cheeses, like straight Parmesan, add amazing flavor in tiny amounts but do not work as the main base.

That does not mean these cheeses are bad. They are just better in other dishes. Fondue needs smoothness more than drama.

Best cheese blends for different kinds of fondue nights

If you want a classic fondue, do equal parts Gruyere and Emmental. It is reliable, balanced, and exactly what most people hope fondue will taste like.

If you want a richer, more flavor-forward pot, try two parts Gruyere to one part Emmental, plus a little Appenzeller. That blend has more edge and feels ideal for adults gathered around the table with wine and plenty of bread.

If you want creamy and approachable, use Gruyere with Fontina. It is softer, rounder, and especially good if you are serving kids or guests who shy away from funkier cheeses.

If you want a dinner-party version with a little extra flair, mix Gruyere, Comte, and Raclette. It is luxurious without being fussy, and it tastes like you really thought this through.

How to choose the right fondue cheese at the store

Skip pre-shredded cheese if you can. It is often coated with anti-caking agents that can interfere with melting and make the fondue less smooth. Buy blocks and grate them yourself. It takes a few extra minutes and pays you back in texture.

Look for cheeses that feel firm but not dried out. With Gruyere or Emmental, you want good aroma and clean slices, not cracking edges or a sweaty surface. If your store has a cheesemonger, this is a great time to ask for a fondue-friendly wedge.

And if you are watching your budget, blend one pricier cheese with one more affordable one. Fondue does not have to be all luxury cheese to taste fantastic.

How cheese choice affects texture

Here is where fondue gets a little less romantic and a little more useful. The best flavor in the world will not save a fondue that breaks.

You want cheeses with good meltability and enough moisture and fat to turn fluid without separating. Alpine-style cheeses tend to do this well, which is why they show up again and again in fondue recipes. They melt into a cohesive sauce instead of turning rubbery or oily.

Age matters too. A very young cheese may be too bland. A very old cheese can get grainy or stiff when heated. For fondue, the sweet spot is usually a semi-firm, good-melting cheese with developed flavor but not extreme age.

A few easy fondue-saving tips

Even the best cheese for fondue needs a little help. Tossing grated cheese with cornstarch before adding it to the pot can help keep the mixture smooth. Adding the cheese gradually instead of all at once gives it a better chance to melt evenly.

Keep the heat gentle. High heat is where many fondue disasters begin. If the pot gets too hot, the proteins tighten up and the fats separate, and suddenly your cozy dinner has an oil slick on top.

Dry white wine also matters in traditional fondue because its acidity helps the cheese melt more smoothly. If you are making a non-wine version, you will usually want another acidic ingredient in the mix to help with balance and texture.

So what should you actually buy?

If you want the easiest answer, buy Gruyere and Emmental and call it a good night. That combination is classic for a reason, and it gives most home cooks the best shot at a fondue that tastes rich, melts smoothly, and feels special enough for company.

If you want to play a little, add Fontina for creaminess, Appenzeller for punch, Raclette for extra coziness, or Comte for a more layered flavor. Just keep your base grounded in cheeses that melt well and complement each other.

Fondue is one of those dishes that feels a lot fancier than it is. Once you choose the right cheeses, the rest gets much more fun – and a lot more delicious. If you are the kind of cook who loves turning simple ingredients into something everyone talks about after dinner, this is exactly your kind of pot.

The post Best Cheese for Fondue, Explained first appeared on The Faerietale Foodie.

You had the whole cozy setup in mind – crusty bread, a warm pot, maybe a glass of wine – and then your fondue turned into a clumpy, gritty mess. Brutal. If you’re wondering, why is my cheese fondue grainy, the short answer is this: the cheese sauce broke.

That usually happens because the cheese got too hot, melted too fast, or didn’t have enough help staying smooth. Fondue sounds fancy, but it’s really a simple emulsion. When that balance slips, the proteins tighten up, the fat separates, and instead of glossy, dreamy fondue, you get graininess.

The good news? This is a very fixable problem, and once you know what causes it, your next pot can be velvety and scoopable instead of stubborn.

The biggest reason fondue gets grainy

Most grainy fondue comes down to heat. Cheese is happiest when it melts gently. When the temperature climbs too high, the proteins in the cheese seize and clump together. That creates the sandy or curdled texture that makes fondue feel more like a mistake than a party food.

This is especially common if you let the pot boil after adding cheese, or if you’re cooking it over direct high heat because you’re trying to speed things up. I get the temptation. Nobody wants to stand around waiting for cheese to melt. But fondue is one of those dishes that punishes impatience.

If your pot is bubbling hard, it’s too hot. You want warmth, not a rolling simmer.

Cheese choice matters more than most recipes admit

Not all cheeses melt the same way, and this is a huge reason home cooks end up disappointed. A classic fondue usually relies on cheeses like Gruyere, Emmental, and sometimes fontina. These melt smoothly and have the right balance of moisture and fat for fondue.

Very aged cheeses can get grainy more easily because they are drier and more prone to clumping. Pre-shredded cheese can also cause trouble. It often contains anti-caking agents that keep the shreds from sticking together in the bag, but those same additives can make your fondue feel slightly dusty or uneven once melted.

Freshly grated cheese is almost always the better move. It melts more cleanly and gives you a smoother finish.

There is also a trade-off here. A sharper, older cheese brings bigger flavor, but it can be trickier to melt. A younger cheese may melt beautifully but taste milder. The sweet spot is usually a blend – enough bold cheese for flavor, enough good-melting cheese for texture.

Why starch is the quiet hero of good fondue

If you’ve ever tossed cheese with cornstarch before adding it to the pot, that wasn’t just a chefy extra step. Starch helps stabilize fondue by coating the cheese and making it less likely to clump as it melts. It also helps bind the liquid and fat together so the mixture stays silky instead of splitting.

Without enough starch, especially in a wine-based fondue, melted cheese can go from smooth to grainy faster than you’d expect. A small amount makes a big difference.

Flour can work in some cheese sauces, but cornstarch is usually the better fit for fondue because it blends in more cleanly and keeps the texture light instead of pasty.

The liquid in your fondue does real work

Wine isn’t there just because fondue likes to feel a little glamorous. The acidity in dry white wine helps keep the cheese proteins relaxed, which makes the fondue smoother. That acidity is part of what helps prevent a tight, grainy texture.

If you skip the wine entirely, or replace it with a liquid that doesn’t have enough acidity, the fondue can be harder to keep stable. Lemon juice can sometimes help if you’re making a non-wine version, but the flavor has to fit. You don’t want your fondue tasting like a salad dressing experiment.

That said, too much liquid can create its own issue. If the ratio is off, the cheese may separate instead of melting into a cohesive sauce. Fondue has a bit of give, but not infinite flexibility.

A common mistake: adding all the cheese at once

Listen, I get it. You grate a whole pile of cheese and your first instinct is to dump it in and let destiny take over. But adding too much cheese at once can shock the mixture and lower your odds of getting a smooth melt.

The better approach is to add the cheese gradually, stirring constantly between additions. That gives each handful time to melt into the liquid before the next one goes in. It feels slightly slower, but it actually saves time because you’re far less likely to end up troubleshooting a broken pot.

Stirring matters too. Gentle, steady stirring helps keep everything moving without overworking it.

Can you fix grainy fondue once it happens?

Sometimes, yes. Not always perfectly, but often enough to save dinner.

If your fondue has just started to look grainy, take it off the heat right away. That alone can stop things from getting worse. Then try whisking in a small splash of warm white wine or a little lemon juice, depending on the flavor direction of your fondue. The added liquid and acidity can help loosen the texture.

If it still looks rough, whisk in a slurry made from a little cornstarch and cold wine or water. Start small. You want to stabilize the fondue, not turn it gloopy.

What usually does not help is blasting it with more heat. Once fondue starts breaking, more heat tends to make the proteins tighten even more.

If the cheese has fully seized and the fat has clearly separated, recovery gets harder. At that point, you may be able to improve it, but you probably won’t get it back to that gorgeous restaurant-style finish.

How to keep cheese fondue smooth from the start

If you’re asking why is my cheese fondue grainy because this keeps happening to you, a few simple shifts can change everything.

Start by grating your own cheese. Toss it with cornstarch before it goes near the pot. Warm your wine and aromatics first, but do not let the mixture boil wildly. Add the cheese by handfuls over low heat and stir until each addition is melted before adding more.

Once the fondue is smooth, keep it warm, not hot. That’s the part people often miss. You can make a perfect fondue on the stove and then ruin it at the table by letting the burner underneath run too aggressively. If the fondue starts bubbling, dial it down.

It also helps to use the right pot. A heavy pot distributes heat more evenly, which lowers the chance of hot spots that can scorch or overheat the cheese.

Ingredients that can make fondue more finicky

A few extras can push fondue into grainy territory if you’re not careful. Strong spirits like kirsch are classic in some recipes, but too much can throw off the balance. Very salty cheeses can tighten up faster. Low-fat cheese is usually a no-go for fondue because it lacks the richness needed for a smooth melt.

Even garlic can matter a little, though mostly for flavor. Rubbing the pot with garlic is traditional and lovely. Dumping in lots of minced raw garlic changes the texture more than you might want.

And if you’re experimenting with trendy twists, like blue cheese or cheddar-heavy blends, expect more variables. Delicious? Potentially. Foolproof? Not quite.

The best mindset for better fondue

Fondue is not hard, but it is sensitive. That’s really the whole story. It rewards gentle heat, thoughtful cheese choices, and a little restraint.

If your fondue came out grainy once, that doesn’t mean you’re bad at making it. It means the cheese got pushed a little too far. Next time, slow it down, grate the good stuff yourself, and let the pot stay cozy instead of scorching. That’s when the magic happens.

And honestly, when you get it right, cheese fondue feels like exactly the kind of low-effort, high-reward dish we love at The Faerietale Foodie – dramatic enough for guests, easy enough for a night when you just want dinner to feel a little special.

Your next batch doesn’t need to be perfect. It just needs to stay smooth long enough for that first glorious dip.

The post Why is my cheese fondue grainy? first appeared on The Faerietale Foodie.

I’ve been to some great restaurants this year and some terrible ones, some fancy and some more basic, but I’m a simple creature at heart and quite often all I really want is something comforting betwixt two slices of bread. You’d think finding this whilst out and about wouldn’t be a problem, especially since toasties are having a bit of a moment around town. But, as I’d previously found with doughnuts, they’re all too often to be found lacking, tear inducingly dull and badly assembled. Toasted sandwiches are not hard to get right, but it appears, diabolically easy to get wrong. I mean, who really wants a clump of ham and cheddar? Soggy tomato? Really? I know simple is sometimes best but NOT ALWAYS and only when the ingredients are outstanding (as they should be quite frankly) – at least put something else in there, even if it’s just some herbs, chutney, freshly cut tomato, spring onion, whatever. Also, fill evenly, I expect spreads all the way to the edges and I want an equal amount of filling in each and every bite – no-one wants naked toast.

You know that’s why I started making doughnuts don’t you? Because I was so bored and disappointed with everything else out there; just jam or custard; where were the curds, the pistachio creams and boozy jams? It remains that my favourite toasties are still the ones make at home.

I’m being overly ranty. Of course Kappacasein do an extraordinary beast, the bench mark for toasties, Sager and Wilde always have a great one on at their wine bar and the ones at Embassy East are very much worth a try. I just mean that on the whole toasties are disappointing when they should be a delight, small details too often ignored and SO uninspiring.

I wrote an ode to them once – well, sandwiches, but nearly.

So, I’m seeing 2014 off with this one and, as with many things, I’ll likely overdose on the combo till I’d rather stick pins in my eyes than eat it again. I’m like that – addictive personality and all that.

N’duja, Goats Gouda & Ewe’s Cheese, Truffle Honey and Sage Leaf Toastie

Cut two slices from a soft white loaf and butter the exterior sides.

Spread n’duja onto the unbuttered side of one, drizzle with truffle honey then pile on great handfuls of grated cheese, much more than looks decent. I used a combination of a sweet and tangy goats gouda and a semi soft ewe’s cheese, you could go regular goats cheese but you won’t get the alluring cheesy dribble and stringyness that I love in a good toastie. Finally add a couple of sage leaves to the top before putting in a sandwich press, they fry up all pleasingly crisp in the external layer of butter.

(I bought my n’duja and truffle honey in the foreign section at M&S but you can get both at various farmers markets and Borough Market and the n’duja at L’Anima Cafe is pretty unbeatable)

Always leave to toast for longer than you think it needs, till the n’duja melts and the cheese oozes out of the sides into molten pools.

Happy New Year!

The post N’duja, Goat & Ewe’s Cheese, Truffle Honey & Sage Toastie first appeared on The Faerietale Foodie.

His response, after assuring him he wouldn’t want it, was one I get often – ’Why can’t you blog stuff that will actually come up on a Google search?’.

He says this with mild contempt, as he doesn’t understand the concept of doing things ‘just because’. Just because I want to, because it’s fun, because I can. Because I’m not fussed about SEO or monetisation.

Add to this the fact that I HATE being told what to do. I SHALL eat weird combos if I want to. sticks bottom lip out

The idea for this was formed during and after a leisurely wander along Bellenden Road, as I’m wont to do after a weekend morning’s gym session, and find myself in the uber middle class shopping den of General Store.

As usual, all sensibilities go out the window as I purchase random ingredients in no rhythm or order than that of prettiness and impulse. In hindsight they’re also ingredients that hint at a snifter of that Spring in the air that I grasp to my chest with culinary intentions.

I’m not a remotely girly girl, in most situations, but who can resist the pink kissed frilly hem of pink radicchio, soft focus bloom of the vegetable world, that pairs so well with slender slivers of marbled porchetta that lilt a similarly hued tune.

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I want a toastie. A toastie needs cheese. This one, I feel will benefit with a combination. A smear of goats curd shouts ‘hazelnuts’, so these also go in, lightly toasted and smashed. But it also needs melty cheese for full on, molten toastie effect.

I’d brought a wheel of cheese back from my trip to Brazil. Typical of the region of Minas Gerais, where local cheese is as ubiquitous as dulce de leche. Often served together no less. They have two common varieties; a pale, firm, fresh and unsalty number and then this. I visited the farm where they produce this particular one, named simply ‘Araxa Quesa’ – cheese of the region it’s exclusive to; just 9 cities within the region of Minas own the PDO. This award winning farm’s 56 cows (including a number of Jersey’s I notice with astonishment, standing out with those doleful eyes and lengthy lashes against the local ones that look to me to be indian with their drooping ears and slender physique, though I’m told they’re both a fairly common thing here) are milked twice a day with all production going to make cheese. The unpasteurised cheese is sold at different stages of ageing, the locals preferring it pale and milky but it’s aged much longer and also exported nationally (mine has got a proper funk going on, but I’m told to keep it out of the fridge to let it develop naturally). It’s affectionately known as ‘drop cheese’ due to it’s dripping process, it’s then stored, rotated and washed regularly. It’s delicious eaten in slices with their coffee, taken black and sweet, served in glasses and always made in batches then kept in a thermos for whenever required. Eaten for breakfast, snacking and post meals, the Brazilians of Minas like cheese. A lot. Even their butter tastes and smells like cheese.

ANYWAY. I figured it would make a great addition to my cheese mixture, and a pungency to add structure to what was, so far – sweetly bitter radicchio, sweet and fatty porchetta, nutty hazelnuts and creamy curd. I finish this combo off with more sweet and nutty in the form of comte and then a drizzle of truffle honey.

Did I mention that the bread I used is made by Little Bread Pedlar? They make the best pastries I’ve tried in London and their sourdough ain’t too shabby either, it looks like they’re stocking it regularly at General Store too. Good bread times for SE as Brickhouse opens shortly with their own cafe, using Square Mile coffee too no less.

I give you – The Pink Toastie – pure unbridled romance. If you’re into that sort of thing

Construction tips

Butter outside sides of the bread liberally – I usually do the insides too (and ALWAYS match the slices up so they don’t sit back to front – yeah, OCD)

Spread the bottom, inside, layer with goats curd and scatter over toasted hazelnuts, lay over crisp leaves of pink radicchio, then thin slices of porchetta or other fatty ham. Finally add handfuls of the other two cheeses, grated and mixed together. Always much, much more than you think is decent.

Place in a sandwich or panini press and leave for much longer than you think it needs. The cheese should fully melt, pool around the base of the sandwich and then crisp up again for optimal sandwich crust.

If you don’t have a sandwich press, a similar effect can be achieved by placing the sandwich in a heavy based frying pan with a weighted plate on top, then flip half way through so both sides toast.

As a sub for the minas cheese, I’d probably use something of a washed rind but firm.

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I’ve barely touched the cachaca I brought home from Brazil, in fact most went out as gifts, mainly because I simply couldn’t imagine it tasting the way I’d developed such a taste for, made here in the deep murkiness of London as it makes it’s final push to emerge from the grips of Winter. But, believe me, we encountered plenty of it whilst out there, at least one caipirinha a night was the rule. Not a bad one to live by to be honest. Of course it’s made from fermented sugar cane juice, which I tried on the side of the road, squeezed fresh and simply directly from the cane – the ultimate in thirst quenching sugary treats.

Back home, as another kick up the backside to Spring, I made a twist on the classic by subbing lime for floral bergamot – pure sunshine in a glass.

Muddle 1 quarter of a bergamot, chopped into wedges with 1 tablespoon golden sugar (I’d LOVE to try this with raw cane sugar) then shake with plenty of cracked ice and 60ml good quality cachaça and serve.

Try it!

I gathered many and varied versions of the sugar cane spirit across the regions I travelled, caipirinhas should be made with the clear or silver variety rather than the barrel aged sipping ones. I need to investigate the brands over here…

The post Three Cheese, Porchetta, Pink Radicchio, Hazelnut & Truffle Honey Toastie first appeared on The Faerietale Foodie.

When travelling, breakfast becomes my time to gather together my bearings before embarking apon the new, unfamiliar, sometimes daunting. To check emails and social media (at least I’m honest). Ready myself for the day ahead. I find it can also be an unrivalled insight into the culture of an area, an opportunity to absorb the ebb and flow and tone. I wonder if my recent (ish) love affair with coffee and cafe life has something to do with it’s own cultural punctuation and my enjoyment of it.

European buffet breakfasts can generally go do one with their homogenised eurosludgy mash up. I’ve recently opted to swap depressing, grey suit filled shells for airbnb and consequently dodged the accompanying complimentary disaster by hunting out nearby and illustrious cafes for my breakfast fix. This a double win, as it allows me the chance to request recommendations from the staff – always my top tip for traveling that – get recs from places you already like, staff are more likely to be into/appreciate the same things. In this way I can ricochet around a city for days, dining on hot tips from hotter kids.

A buffet breakfast is not always to be avoided though and never an excuse to simply lard it up whislt away from home as you see so many tourists do, gorging for no reason than sheer gluttony, hand to mouth with mindlessly inert movements. Having just returned from a trip to South West Brazil however, I can heartily condone a table spilling with exotic (to me) dishes, fruits that I’ve never seen so ripe and juices I’ve never before come across. Never mind that some of the dishes (explained to me later) are a local spin on things prepared entirely for expectant Gringos like me. An invitation to try a little bit of everything is not one I have power to refuse, taking small portions of everything. Just to try. To explore and discover. No doubt looking like that greedy tourist in the process. Hi waves

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Amongst a veritable feast of papaya, melon and mango, eggs and sobrassata fried with onions (not the supple salami we get but a firmer sliced sausage – this being the thing presented for the Gringos benefit – locals would never eat meat for breakfast) and local cakes enriched with yoghurt or mayo, one topped with a coconut crust is particularly good, a banana bread served with banana fritters is near moist perfection. Juices verge on the joyfully ridiculous; watermelon and mango are favourites and then I have my cashew epiphany. Asking what one particularly sweet nectar is, unable to match it to anything I’d encountered in my succinct juice repertoire, I’m told Caju. I furrow my brow at the unusual word and it’s repeated to me, caju, CAJU, you know like the nut, cashew. Aaaah. I don’t actually get it until our guide pulls up google images. Mind. Blown.

Do it.

One of my favourite breakfast discoveries is that of a recurring pairing of cheese with sweet. It’s one that’s repeated for dessert and as snacks throughout the day.

At breakfast it’s a firm, pale and unsalty cheese that I smear with guava jam, for a snack it’s the local Minas cheese served with tiny glasses of thick sweet coffee. A snack of Brazilian sweets happens twice; one of the traditional flavoured bonbons, Brigadeiro, typically chocolate but here I love the sweet cheese version filled with a guava paste; the other is at a cafe where we eat tiny cheesecakes topped with guava swhirls.

My favourite of all though is a combination we eat nearly twice daily while in Minas, that of a firm white cheese, they call it Ricotta but it’s more of a less salty, less crumbly feta, served with dulce de leche. I had no idea there were so many riffs on the sweet stuff; some of it searingly sweet and dark, some creamy, some sort of curdled, it appeared without fail at the end of every meal. Sometimes a humble jar would appear, lid askew, but more often it would fill glamorous glass vessels extravagantly, surrounded by much smaller plates laid with triangles of that white cheese and bulbous glass jars filled with candied figs – I’m aware this was offered to us as guests.

Consistent throughout my my week long induction to Minas Gerais is the exposure to their peo de queijo, little carby, cheesy puffs that you couldn’t help but notice as they sat prominent on every counter of the airport at Sao Paolo. They reappeared as palate cleansers between rounds of coffee cupping, at many snacking intervals and, joy! There they were again at the breakfast buffet.

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Not bread. But not, not bread. I did a smidge of research and found them to be made from cassava root flour, that’s weirdly squeaky in it’s packet, with cheese and oil. They vary in texture from the soft, to almost quaver-like crispy and some near solid – their unifying feature is (or should be) a squidgy middle, the best are crisp with a crackle across the surface and gooey middle.

At first I ate them as they were, enthralled enough to have so quickly discovered a new thing. Then we visited an incredible speciality cafe run by one of the co-ops and we were served a small basket-full of the puffs accompanied by little dishes of jam. Well, now this changed everything. Another time they were served fancy like, topped with sesame seeds alongside a chilli and honey dip before dinner. If I’d stayed any longer I imagine I’d have witnessed them dunked into or filled with dulce de leche as seems to be the custom here. I’ve since been treated to Kaya toast and fancy they’d be rather nice with coconut jam.

I bought packet mix of the bread on a whim at the airport. Turns out it was simplicity incarnate and I have a sneaky feeling that’s what most of the locals use as it produces an almost perfect version of the buns. (I think I’m joking here). Feeling lacklustre after acute sickness upon returning, I manage a couple feebly stuffed in typical (me) fashion with mortadella and n’duja.

I’d brought a kilo of the flour back from Brazil, Polvilho Doce is on the packet, so I thought I really ought to attempt a proper recipe too. Deciding to use the Brazilian butter I’d also brought back in place of oil and Minas cheese rather than the suggested parmesan. Funny thing this, but most of the products of Brazil I’ve encountered have a faintly parmesan-ey aroma. The flour, butter and cheese all smell deeply, well, a little vommy, if we’re being honest. Hmm. Update on my Minas cheese while I’m here is that it’s getting funkier and firmer by the day. So not a bad sub for parmesan here to be fair.

These were again as good a version as any I’ve tried. I think they’d be good with chilli and or herbs too. I ate mine, while still warm and gooey, filled with some fatty prosciutto & jabuticaba jam – this is the jam that I’m told is typically served with the buns and a jar of which automatically came back with me. Jabuticaba is a firm, round, medium sized fruit that grows on trees, the jam is super sweet and tastes somewhere between prune and plum.

I followed this recipe from BBC Food – they all seem much of a muchness to be honest – and all very simple

• 250ml Full fat milk
• 125g Butter
• 300g tapioca or cassava flour
• 2 eggs
• 100g cheese

Boil the butter with milk until the butter is melted and the mixture is starting to froth and bubble lightly. Allow to cool slightly then pour in the flour. Keep mixing until everything cools down. It’s at this point that I remember I’m not working with actual flour as the mixture has an unusual glutinous quality. Add the eggs one at a time and beat until fully incorporated and the mixture has become glossy. Finally add the grated cheese and mix again until fully incorporated.

Scoop up egg sized pieces of dough, roll between your hands roughly and place on a greased baking tray.

Bake in an oven preheated to 220 degrees for around 30 minutes.

The post Pao de Queijo and the Beauty of Breakfast Abroad first appeared on The Faerietale Foodie.

I haven’t given up. However, you don’t need me to give you the lowdown on the latest restaurant openings, bars & cafes etc (though check my Instagram feed for a snapshot of that kind of suff) neither do you need me to write classic recipes. So expect the same sporadic, whimsical whispers, harebrained kitchen concoctions and occasional outbursts of cafe or restaurant love. I hope that’s ok with you.

If I’m honest, I’m more than over the Festive period, far from starving myself this New Year, but relishing throwing myself back into the gym. As always, I’m eagerly anticipating Winter’s proper New Year citrus gift of Blood Oranges. In fact I picked up an early crop at the weekend, just blushing pink at segments edge with reassuring tartness. Sure I’ll shoe-horn them into a few, not necessarily appropriate, recipes the moment I get a proper haul to play with.

Until then, I spent the last few days of the break working and simultaneously pottering around the kitchen – procrastinating you say? Yes, without a doubt.

I got entirely out of any kitchen rhythm towards the second half of the year, travelling, although inspiring, putting me in a situation where I was constantly in catch-up mode, not a state where I can really be bothered to concoct/bake/make a mess.

These fritters were inspired by a wander around the local greengrocers, based entirely on cravings that day, which I summoned by standing static in the centre and thinking, most probably looking vacant while doing so. Turned out these were that. I’m a curious one at times…..

Makes 2-3 portions

250g jerusalem artichokes scrubbed but not peeled

4 shallots

2 tablespoon plain flour

2 tablespoon spelt flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

2 eggs beaten

100g comte grated

salt & pepper

handful of sage leaves torn

oil for frying

Grate the jerusalem artichokes and shallots together and then squeeze out as much excess water as possible with a teatowell. Add the cheese, eggs, sage, seasoning, flours and baking powder and stir well to combine.

Heat generous oil in a large frying pan then spoon in golf ball sized portions of mixture before flattening with a spatula. Fry for several minutes before turning and squashing again. Fry until the fritters are golden and the cheese has melted and then crisped up again around the edges.

I have no problem serving these for lunch with avocado, even thought’s 2016 now. I served for dinner another day with a sort of spicy peperonata.

The post Jerusalem Artichoke, Comte, Shallot & Sage Fritters first appeared on The Faerietale Foodie.