Affinage is still a relatively misunderstood part of the cheese world compared to cheesemaking itself. When did you first realise that maturation was the side of cheese you were most drawn to?
Honestly, it crept up on me. I started out fascinated by cheesemaking, like most people who get into this, but the more time I spent in the maturing rooms the more I realised that's where the real conversation with the cheese was happening. A cheesemaker hands you something with potential, and what you do with it over the next few weeks or months is what decides whether that potential gets met or not. The patience side of it appealed to me. You can't rush a cheese into being itself. Once I understood that affinage was its own craft, not just storage with a bit of turning thrown in, I was hooked.
You've worked with and tasted an enormous number of British cheeses over the years. Has your idea of what makes a "great" cheese changed since you first started?
Yes, hugely. When you start out you tend to look for technical perfection. A clean rind, a textbook paste, the right shape, the right ash line. The longer you do this, the less those things matter on their own. A great cheese now, to me, is one that's honest. It tastes of where it's from, who made it, the milk, the season. It has character rather than just correctness. Some of the cheeses I love most have quirks that a purist would mark them down for, but those quirks are what make them theirs. I'd rather have a cheese with a bit of personality than a flawless one that could have come from anywhere.
Winning Affineur of the Year once was a huge moment for British cheese. Winning it three times is something else entirely. Did the first win change anything for you personally, either in confidence or in how the industry viewed affinage?
The first one was the big one, mostly because it was the first time the award had been given out at all in this country. Affinage hadn't really been recognised as a discipline in its own right in Britain, certainly not the way it is in France or Italy. So that first win felt less like it was about me and more like a moment for the trade. It started a conversation. People who didn't really know what an affineur did suddenly wanted to know. In terms of confidence, I think it gave me permission to keep pushing the maturing side as something worth talking about rather than something that just happens quietly behind the scenes. Winning it again has been lovely, but the first one is the one that mattered most.
You spend a lot of time championing small British cheesemakers. From your perspective, what is it about the people behind artisan cheese that keeps you so invested in the industry?
It's the dedication, really. These are mostly small family operations, often working with their own milk or milk from a herd they know personally. The hours are long, the margins are thin, and there's no shortcuts in any of it. To do it well you have to genuinely love it, because the money's never going to be the reason. When you spend time with people like that you can't help but want to do right by what they've made. We're the bit between them and the customer, and it feels like a real responsibility to look after their cheese properly and tell their story honestly.
You often sit between the maker and the customer. Do you feel part of your role now is translating the work of cheesemakers to people who may never otherwise hear those stories?
Yes, very much so. A lot of the people who buy from us will never set foot on the farm where their cheese was made, never meet the cheesemaker, never see the dairy at six in the morning. That's fine, that's normal. But the story behind a cheese is part of what makes it worth eating, and if no one tells it then it just becomes another wedge in a fridge. So a big part of what I do, whether it's writing about a cheese, putting together a box, or just talking to someone in the shop, is making sure that connection between the maker and the eater doesn't get lost. The cheese tastes better when you know what's behind it.
Looking back now, was there a particular cheese, maker or moment early on that really shaped the direction you ended up taking?
There was a moment, yes. Some cheese came in for a big tasting and it wasn't ready. Not even close. I said to an old colleague at the time, surely if we drop it into a room that's not at four degrees, run it a bit warmer, it'll come good. He told me it wouldn't. Well, it did, and the rest is history really.
That stuck with me. Over the years we kept noticing the same pattern, particularly around Christmas. Cheeses would arrive as good cheese, no question, but not quite where we'd want them for our customers. So we started ordering them in early and looking after them properly in our own rooms, and that was the difference. Happy customers, every time. One room turned into two, two into three, and now we've got five.
British artisan cheese is in a very different place now compared to ten or fifteen years ago. From where you're standing, what feels most encouraging about where things are heading?
The biggest shift, I think, is the customer. I'll be honest, not so long ago we had pseudo all-British menus everywhere, and that ticked a box, and people were kind of happy with that. Then covid happened, then the cost of living, and we started to notice a change. As people thought more carefully about how they were spending their money, they wanted to know it was going to good places. Not up into the Starbucks ether to be pumped around the world. They wanted to know who they were supporting. Is it independent, or is it a large faceless corporate? Is it supporting the British economy, the local economy? I tell you what, if that carries on, we're all going to be so much better off for it.
Final question: what kept you committed to this path in the early years, before the awards and recognition came along?
The cheese, mostly. And the people. There's never been a day in this job where I've thought I'd rather be doing something else, which is more than most can say about their work. The early years were graft, no question, but every now and then you'd cut into something and it would just stop you in your tracks, and that was enough. The recognition's come along since, but it was never the reason. I'd be doing this whether anyone gave out an award for it or not.
