Sardinia's "Cheese with Worms" Makes the Media

Casu marzu or formaggio con vermi: Sardinia's cheese with worms

Obviously, you'll find a mention of casu marzu, Sardinia's maggot-riddled cheese, in every "Guide to Sardinia" on the market. How could you not? Who could resist writing about a traditional delicacy that is not only infested with fly larvae, but is also more or less illegal? (It may have gotten around the illegality recently by being declared a "traditional food," but you still can't buy it in Sardinian grocery stores.)

Trying casu marzu was an explicit goal of mine last time I visited Sardinia, and one I was lucky enough to accomplish. I was thrilled to finally take part in this weird, wonderful, and slightly freaky cultural experience. For the curious: the cheese is sharp and strong and you don't notice the worms if you close your eyes.

What I never anticipated was seeing a reference to casu marzu in American popular culture. Immagine my surprise when an infestation of maggots on the most recent episode of Bones was caused, not by a human corpse, but instead - you guessed it! - by an illegal Sardinian delicacy called casu marzu. I practically fell out of my chair. I guess the show must have someone researching all the harmless things that can possibly be mistaken for murder evidence, but still - with a little luck, maybe some national exposure like this will get people to realize what an interesting place Sardinia is.

Photo of casu marzu by Shardan, accessed through the Wikimedia Commons
Text Copyright 2010 Sara Harding

A Taste of What's Out There: Chateauneuf du Pape

I never get French wine in America. First of all, it's expensive. Secondly, I would have no idea what to pick. My experience of European wines is pretty much limited to Italy, so if I have $15 to spend on a bottle of wine, I buy Italian - at least I know what I'm getting. In reality, three-buck-Chuck is more my speed, and though I genuinely enjoy a glass of nice wine, it just isn't in my budget.

So I really wanted to try a good French wine while I was in Paris and could avoid the import taxes. A European friend suggested I get a bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape. The village of Chateauneuf has been producing wine since the 13th century and has a long history of supplying wine to famous clients, including a number of Popes (hence the appellation) and great French writers like Alexandre Dumas.

I walked into a wine shop on Rue Daguerre and in my horrendous French explained that "I search a particular bottle of wine - Chateauneuf du Pape." The kind shop owner suffered through my pronunciation and found me a bottle of the 2007 vintage for 19 euros. Then - because apparently I looked a little too scruffy to be buying a nice wine - asked if he should wrap it as a gift.

"No, I drink it," I declared. And drink it I did.

The wine was a serious departure from my usual range of Californian wines, but in a very good way. It had a mineral nose with hints of earth, medium body, and a well-balanced palate. The fruit flavors were subtler and not as juicy as is typical for American wines, so I can finally understand why my European friends often describe Californian wines as "like drinking jam."

Overall, Chateauneuf du Pape was an excellent introduction to French wines, one I wish I had more time to follow up on! I would strongly recommend it if you, like me, are curious about the famous wines of France but aren't sure where to begin.

Copyright 2010 Sara Harding

A Taste of What's Out There: Macarons

I think most avid travelers are driven by the hunger for "a taste of what's out there" in the metaphorical sense. We want to know what makes the cities and countries and peoples of the world unique. Humans are creative and plastic, and as a result world culture offers more flavors than a gourmet gelateria. We avid travelers want to try them all. If we discover, in the process, the many important ingredients that all cultures share, so much the better. But first, please, the differences!

I, for one, am grateful that experiencing different cultural "flavors" in the metaphorical sense often means experiencing different cultural flavors in the literal sense. There's nothing I love more when I hit a new city or country than trying the local cuisine. So I'm going to use "a taste of what's out there" in the literal sense - a designation for an article about one of my favorite cultural experiences - food.

One of my best food experiences in Paris so far is the macaron. There's been a lot of macaron hype out there for quite a while, so much so that even major sportswear manufacturers have found ways to take advantage of it. I tried macarons back in February at a coffee shop in New York, but I was unimpressed. The meringue-y cookies cracked into dry fragments when I bit into the and the flavors were ho-hum: nothing to get write home about. So I had no intention of seeking out macarons when I was in Paris. Instead, I stumbled on them by accident.

I was walking through the Quartier Latin admiring the great boutiques and barely resisting the enticing bistros when I came across a colorful shop window. "Vive les vacances," it read. Damn straight, I thought.

But there was more to it. A line of people stretched almost out the door, and this made me curious. I took a closer look and figured out what the colorful little disks in the window were. They were cookies. In fact, they were macarons.

I had found my way to Laduree and a cookie conversion experience. Half a dozen people lined up to buy sweets must be on to something, I figured, so I went in and ordered three mini-macarons: pistachio, lemon, and - wait for it - orange tree blossom. This time, my expectations were not only met, they were blown away. The meringue shells crumbled delicately, the filling was juicy and soft, and if orange tree blossom isn't the most sensuous and seductive flavor a dessert could come it, I don't know what is. So this is what the hype was about!

The house of Laduree has been making macarons since 1862, so I guess by now they ought to be pretty good. Looking at it from a different angle, though, I have serious respect for a company that cares so deeply about a simple confection. It reminds me in an odd way of the Zen painters who painted circles. It may be a simple circle, but it's what I'm painting, and I will paint it with all my heart.

It may be a simple cookie, but I will bake it with all my heart... for the next hundred and fifty years.

The Laduree I stumbled upon is located at 21 Rue Bonaparte, but there are several others scattered around Paris, including one on the Champs-Elysees (75 Avenue des Champs-Elysees).

Copyright 2010 Sara Harding