Editor’s note: When we started seeing photos of Tenaya Darlington and a cheese cart, (also sometimes called a cheese trolley) in Luxembourg, we had to know more. She’s back in the US now and we’re so glad she’s sharing her first-hand account of the experience.
It’s a Friday night, and I’m wearing my new uniform: cheese grater earrings, a pressed navy-blue apron, and cork-lined French leather sneakers. All around me, stylish diners are finishing bottles of wine and gazing at their dinner dates through candlelight. The vibe is casual – wooden tables without tablecloths, good wines by the glass, homemade pasta and fresh Italian cuisine garnished with herbs from the restaurant’s terrace.
I straighten my hand-written sign on an organic Pecorino and make sure I have plenty of “driving gloves” — they’re latex, but I call them driving gloves because the cheese cart I’m about to take for a spin looks like a compact sports car. Designed by a Danish furniture maker, it has sliding glass doors that peel back like a sunroof, a dark marble base with a hidden cooling system, and sleek drawers for my gear: cutlery, linens, dishes for condiments. My cousin and I have dubbed it “The Ferrari.”
Let me explain. I’m a Philadelphia-based cheese educator and writer who just landed in Luxembourg — a pocket-sized country that presses against France — to help launch a cheese program for the next six months at a new restaurant, called Oio (meaning olive oil). My Italian cousin, Leonardo De Paoli, is owner and chef. I am here because, well, during the pandemic we began video-chatting about his new project. After I proofread sample menus and sent him ideas for cocktail and cheese selections – my two passions – he offered me room and board to help him launch a cheese program. I said I’d think about it. When he said, “How about if I get you a cheese cart?” I took a leave-of-absence from my job and booked a one-whey ticket. After ten years of teaching classes in culinary settings and private events, I couldn’t resist trying on the title of “cheese chauffeur.”
An evening with the cheese cart
Let’s imagine you are a guest at Oio tonight:
When a server nods to me, indicating that someone has ordered a “cheese experience” from the dessert menu, I roll toward you with my beautiful cargo: 10 to 15 cheeses, on any given night. I’m a writer by training so I love a metaphor, and I begin my patter with something like, “So, I hear you’ve called for the Cheese Ferrari. Which one of you is my passenger?”
You laugh, and we start cruising. “Have you ever tasted a perfectly ripe raw-milk robiola from Piedmont?” I ask, pointing a cheese knife toward an oozing moon with a veil-thin penumbra.
Next, I’ll ask how you feel about ash. “Would you like to try Zucca Nera, a goat cheese with a silver rind and layer of saffron?“
I explain that the Ferrari holds soft cheeses in the front and bold cheeses in the trunk. When your eyebrows lift, I spin the cart around, slide open the rear windshield, and show off a bevy of blues and crystalline hard cheeses, from Bitto to Ubriaco.
What’s that purple cheese?” you ask, so I slice off a taste and explain that Ubriaco means “drunk” in Italian. The style was originally created in order to hide wheels of cheese from the tax collector in wine barrels.
By the time I set down your cheese plate, I’ve delivered a mini lesson on real Parmigiano-Reggiano and convinced you to try a blue cheese called Basajo, marinated in Passito wine and topped with boozy raisins. Your friends snapping pictures are drooling. Too bad they ordered tiramisu.
You look down to see six slivers, arranged in order from soft to hard, surrounded by Italian hazelnuts, dried figs, a dish of fruit mostarda (the Italian equivalent of chutney), and sprigs of flowering rosemary. Later I’ll stop by to see if you have a favorite; and when you say, “the blue!” you’ll make my night, just as I have hopefully made yours.
an adventure in cheese education
If you think of dinner guests as passengers, you can imagine how delightful it is to whisk them away on an adventure with a Cheese Ferrari. It’s also a chance to school them, gently and with joy, so that they yearn to become connoisseurs. Isn’t that the goal of cheese education?
During my six months driving at Oio, I watch the allure of table-side cheese entertainment grow. The Ferrari gains fans on Instagram, and a dozen or more guests become regular passengers – from a crew of local influencers, to an internationally known magician, to a small boy who yearns to be a chef. They bring friends to experience the Ferrari, and it becomes the highlight at birthdays, anniversaries, and family parties. A pair of newlyweds returns to relive their honeymoon in Italy, and nothing makes me happier than when they say, “We found Basajo Blue at our local shop and served it to all our friends.”
If I learned one thing as a cheese chauffeur, it is this: the cheese cart is not dead, though many people associate it with stuffy French restaurants from a bygone era. It just needs to be reinvented. And test-driven in more casual settings. I believe it’s an ideal vehicle for introducing people to cheeses that they would never reach for on their own. It also delivers knowledge and novelty to diners who are seeking unique experiences when they go out. Sure, cheese lovers can be made at cheese counters, but why not send out a cheese mobile out to meet them?
Stay tuned for Part II: How to Launch a Cheese Cart!