When Anton and his Uncle arrived home, Uncle Rupert’s pig, Marcel, greeted them. Marcel was in the side yard, 'ruffling through truffles', as Uncle Rupert called it. Marcel pushed his snout through the mud, digging up those tasty mushrooms.
When he could, Rupert would steal some of Marcel’s truffles. Anton’s mother would then create her own version of chocolate truffles.
Anton’s pet cat, Nappy, was in the garden, too. As Uncle Rupert opened the front gate, Nappy strutted towards Anton and did figure eights around Anton’s legs. Anton ignored Nappy, eager to cut the cheese (the Brie de Meaux, that is) with his Uncle Rupert.
Uncle Rupert tiptoed around Marcel as he gathered some freshly unearthed truffles. Marcel snapped at Rupert several times. As soon as Uncle Rupert thought he’d stolen enough of Marcel’s truffles, he hurried inside.
“These look and smell so fresh. I cannot wait to eat them,” Uncle Rupert thought to himself. He poured the truffles onto the kitchen table and returned to the living room.
He cleared a space on the table between Anton’s chair and his rocker. Meanwhile, Anton unloaded the grocery bag in the kitchen. He returned with a plate full of the new cheeses.
“What would you like to try first?” asked Uncle Rupert.
“I think I would like some Brie de Meaux. It’s my favorite.”
“It’s my favorite, too.”
Uncle Rupert removed the plastic wrapper and paper tissue surrounding the wheel of Brie. Anton thought it was funny how the tissue left imprints in the cheese as he watched Uncle Rupert begin to slice the cheese, just like a pie. Then, he began to cut the slice from side to side.
“What are you doing?” exclaimed Anton.
“I’m cutting the cheese.”
“You’re cutting off the tip. You know it’s not proper to point the Brie!”
“I know,” replied Uncle Rupert, “but I know how you dislike the moldy crust.”
In fact, Anton did not like the stiff, white crust at all. Luckily, Uncle Rupert always ate any of Anton’s leftovers, even stiff Brie crust. Anton ate his piece and waited for Uncle Rupert to eat his first slice. Uncle Rupert was careful to cut the cheese correctly, like spokes on a wheel. He then shaved the rind off each of Anton’s pieces.
“What are you waiting for?” asked Uncle Rupert.
“Are you going to eat?” asked Anton.
Uncle Rupert nodded. He cut several slices of bread from the long, thin baguette. He gave half to Anton and kept half for himself. He placed a wedge of Brie on the slice of baguette. When he took a bite, the hard bread and soft cheese melted together in his mouth. He washed it down with a sip of Brandy. He sat the snifter of dark brown wine upon the table and smiled.
“What does it taste like?”
Uncle Rupert pressed a wedge of Brie onto a piece of bread and handed it to Anton.
“No, I mean the Brandy,” replied Anton.
“Would you like one tiny sip?” asked Uncle Rupert.
Anton nodded. Uncle Rupert carefully passed the special wine glass to Anton. It had a short handle and the glass was round, like a tiny fish bowl.
“You have to cradle the snifter in your hand as you carefully sip Brandy. Be sure to inhale the fragrance of the wine as you drink it.”
Before he could get the snifter to his lips, Anton inhaled the Brandy smell. He snorted and sneezed.
“It smells like gasoline from a tractor,” said Anton disgustedly, “This is wine?”
“It’s a special kind of wine,” replied Uncle Rupert, “Back in the 1100s, almost one-thousand years ago, there were no cars or airplanes. There were only horses and ships. When the French traded wine with the Dutch people, in northern Europe, it took several days to travel from place to place. During this time, the wine would spoil.”
“So, we’re eating spoiled milk and drinking spoiled wine?”
“Burnt wine, that’s what the Dutch called it. It’s not spoiled wine at all. The wine makers in Frnace heated the wine, to distill it. Distilling made the wine purer, plus it was easier to ship, since they had to pay taxes on each barrel they sent to Holland.
The people of Holland used to replace the water that was removed during distilling. More and more, they liked the taste of the burnt wine. Eventually, the ‘Burnt Wine’ turned to ‘Brandywein”, and then it just became Brandy.”
Anton looked at the Brandy snifter. The Brandy didn’t look like wine at all. It was dark brown and the liquid was thicker than wine. As Anton pinched his nose and took a drink, Uncle Rupert ripped a hunk of bread off the baguette.
As soon as Anton began snorting and spitting, Uncle Rupert gave him the baguette, followed by a glass of water. Anton emptied his glass.
“It tastes like tractor fuel, too!“
“Have some Camembert. It’ll help erase the alcohol taste.”
Uncle Rupert spread the white cheese on the bread, handing it to Anton.
“It’s got rind on it,” replied Anton.
“Just try it.”
Anton ate the Camembert, moldy white rind and all. Unlike the Brie, the white crust of the Camembert wasn’t stiff and crusty. It was smooth, like the cheese inside.
“Why is the crust different when it looks just the same?” asked Anton.
“Like I told you, there are only five things that make up cheese taste: curds, rennet, brine, aging, and mold. There are different molds used to make the outer rinds.”
“But they look the same.”
Uncle Rupert nodded. Sometimes, cheese makers use the same bacteria, but even the two different molds are very similar. It could also be the brine.”
“The salt water?”
Uncle Rupert nodded, “The more salt in the brine, the stiffer the cheese becomes. Some Camembert uses no brine at all. No salt means soft cheese.”
“I really like Camembert. It’s easier to eat.”
“Then we’ll get Camembert next time.”
“I hope we still buy Brie de Meaux, too.”
Just then, Anton’s mother arrived home from the hospital, where she worked as a nurse.
“What are you boys up to this evening?”
“I went to the longhouse with Uncle Rupert and I learned how cheese was made. Did you know they use bacteria?”
Madame Merchant nodded to her son. “It’s good mold. When you get an infection, we use the same mold to make you better.”
“You do?”
“It’s called penicillin.”
“Are you joking?”
“Of course not,” replied his mother.
“Speaking of molds and spores,” said Uncle Rupert, “I stole some of Marcel’s truffles. We were wondering if you could make some of your truffles.”
“I suppose I could do that,” she replied, “But first I’m going to fix dinner.”
As Madame Marchant cooked in the kitchen, Anton sat in the living room with Uncle Rupert. Anton picked up the bottle of Brandy and read the label.
“It says it’s Cognac, not Brandy.”
“Cognac is a very special type of Brandy.”
“I suppose it’s from the city of Cognac?” asked Anton.
“Wines are made a special way, just like cheeses. Each region has its special differences. Cognac uses a very specific type of grape. They also age the wine in special barrels. Usually, those barrels are made of oak. Each time you use a barrel, it absorbs the taste of the wine.”
“What are the other wine regions?”
“Chardonnay, Burgundy, and even Champagne.”
“Champagne is wine? It’s full of bubbles.”
“That’s how champagne is different. They use a special process to create carbonated wine.”
“Like soft drinks?”
Uncle Anton nodded. “But it’s still wine, just like Cognac or Chardonnay.”
“Dinner’s ready,” said Madame Marchant.
Anton and his Uncle joined her at the dining room table.
“Where’s father?” asked Anton.
“Unfortunately, he’s working late at the superconductor plant. He should be home in time for dessert, though.”
“That’s no fair,” said Uncle Rupert.
“I agree,” added Anton.
“Rupert, do not get him riled up. Everyone can wait until after dinner to eat dessert. That includes Monseuir Marchant.”
The three of them said their prayers and began eating. Both Anton and his Uncle were very hungry. Hopefully, there would be enough left over for Monseuir Marchant. Luckily, Madame Marchant hid a large plate of food in the refrigerator for her husband. It did not matter, however, because Anton’s father was arriving from the city on the Metro just as everyone else sat down to eat. He would indeed be home in time for dinner.
Burnt Wine
