For at least the past three years, I ‘ve been preaching that Utah is the bright center of chocolate culture in the U.S. This year, Ritual Chocolate has proven me right by uprooting its entire operation from Denver and transplanted to Park City.

It’s not like Denver is some culinary backwater, where the chocolate and culinary scenes aren’t thriving. Quite the contrary—Denver is a booming foodie town, and Ritual had been adopted with great zeal into the community. Too bad for Colorado that Utah just has too much chocolate gravity for such an excellent company to resist once exposed to it.

Robbie Stout and Anna Davies, the husband and wife who own and operate Ritual, often visited Robbie’s family in Park City, where he grew up. Sure our access to the outdoors is far superior to Denver—we all know that. But I would like to think that after seeing the unparalleled energy and chocolate appreciation from our local food community at Caputo’s 2nd Annual Chocolate Festival, plans were set in motion. Alright, maybe I give myself too much credit. You’ll have to ask Robbie and Anna if you want the whole truth.

Nonetheless, no serious craft chocolate connoisseur would dare argue that Ritual is not one of our country’s Top 5 elite chocolate makers. So whatever the reason for their move, we win.

In the nearly 10 years that I’ve been working for Caputo’s, I’ve seen our selection of fine chocolate bars grow to be one the most robust and diverse collections in the country.

So believe me when I say that I have had a chance to try some really excellent chocolates. However, I have never been more excited about a new brand to our collection than I am about Marou Faiseurs de Chocolat.

Marou is a chocolate company founded by two Frenchmen living in Vietnam. They have dedicated themselves to revitalizing cacao culture in Vietnam, which was nearly lost during the country’s turbulent war years. Marou makes a number of bars, each meant to be representative of the terroir of a unique micro-climate within the southern region of Vietnam. The chocolatiers work with small farmers, who are painstakingly insuring that the cacao is of the highest quality through their careful practices, such as growing the cacao trees beneath taller, shade granting foliage.

The chocolate that Marou makes is challenging to many palates. It’s certainly not a variety that sidles up to you with a lot of vanilla and added sweetness. As this post’s title should indicate, Marou is chocolate for whiskey drinkers.

Need something to bring out the vanilla and honey in Booker’s bourbon while smoothing out some of the heat associated with a 127 proof bourbon? Look no farther than the Marou Tien Giang 70%; its spice and fresh fruit notes will enliven the depth of flavor in this and other hot whiskies. Looking for something a little more balanced for a Scotch tasting? You’ll find a perfect fit in the Marou Ben Tre 78%. Is it intense? Certainly, but it is also balanced. This is exactly what we ask of our whiskies: we like the intensity but we want it to be balanced artfully by a master.

Whether a master of malt or a master of chocolate did the balancing, I know what my palate likes, and these chocolates from Marou have me very, very excited.

Those of you who have gotten to know me through my classes or personal interactions at the store know that my early time at Caputo’s was not marked by my great love of cheese. The most unique cheese that I ever took home was manchego. Now don’t get me wrong, I still love manchego, but I was just a man in the spring of his youth who knew not what cheeses the world had to offer.

That was before I met my first true cheese love, Leonora. Oh goddess, oh muse.

Leonora is an alpine goat’s milk cheese from Leon, Spain, with a mild, natural rind. This is a cheese, that to quote one of Caputo’s finest employees, “Makes me hate other cheeses.” Yes, it’s that good.

In terms of production, a single herd of goats produce the milk for this delicate four-pound log of cheese. The rind is ashed and has naturally-occurring molds. The cheese is not meant to be aged for an extended period of time and should be enjoyed when the rich cream layer is just beginning to drift down from the rind into the flaky, flinty paste.

The texture alone makes this cheese a must, it could taste like cardboard and still be worth it. Leonora’s flavor is citrusy, grassy, and creamy and dissolves with leisurely pace if allowed to linger on the pallet.

Remember, though, this is not merely a cheese blog, this is a love story.

After about a year of deeply-felt, hot-burning, mutual love between myself and Leonora, the light loaves of joy seemed to be arriving in ill-health. They began to come in already too advanced to enjoy—beaten up and depressed, things were changing. We had no choice; Caputo’s had to stop carrying a cheese which arrived in too poor of shape to sell. That was more than five years ago. Leonora and I had to go our separate ways; we had to grow on our own. I did not see my love for five years.

In December, I was breaking down pallets when I saw a familiar box. I did not want my hopes to get the best of me, but as I saw the label on the side, I could not help but become ebullient. My darling Leonora had returned to me! I rushed the case upstairs, trying not to let my emotions get the better of me. It had been a long time, and I had been hurt before. We opened the box and tried it. My friends, Leonora is back—and better than ever.

Stop what you are doing, quit your job, cancel your vacation, get up from lunch and come to Caputo’s for some Leonora.

Trust me, with me around, it is not going to last in the cases for very long.

Leonora is featured in this month’s Cravings.

The other day I had fresh bread made by an incredibly talented friend, Ryan Moore of Moore Bread. He researched and developed yeast strains and milled his own flour. The bread was really quite shocking.

I don’t know if it was that I had never had such good bread before or that it had been so long that I had forgotten. It was so far above and beyond anything that is currently commercially available in Utah including all the fancy artisan bakers.

It is a shame to see talented bakers start a bakery then as they grow distribution far beyond that of old world bakers, they slowly start to make compromises that have caused us foodies to lessen our expectations for the whole bread category.

We all deserve regular access to this transcendent bread made by my friend. Ryan Moore is the only one positioned to give it to us. Not only is he going to use the money to buy a mill so he can source his grain directly from farmers and mill right before baking, but he has the marketing prowess to maintain the branding and command the price point to earn a decent living from baking small amounts of bread.

I have gone over his business plans with him. Here is a rare guy that does not want to leverage his quality into becoming wealthy. Ryan is a guy that just wants to make a good living pushing the quality of this craft back to old world scale.

I selfishly want bread like that in my life.

Question:

You had a cheese tasting in February of last year to compare Comte and Gruyere. Did you keep any notes? What did you decide? I am a Comte fan…so I’m dying to know.

– David Bennett

Answer:

Dear David,

Thanks for your inquiry. I am a huge fan of Comte too. We are cranking for Valentine’s so I will have to keep this quick.

What we found was is milk and cheese made according to European PDO laws are exactly the same on both cheeses. There are many, many producers of Gruyere and many, many producers of Comte (for example Comte is France’s most popular cheese). Some producers are great and some are less great. Therefore the best wheels of Gruyere are better than most wheels of Comte and vice versa. To say which is the best just based on the name is not a holistic comparison. They are essentially the same cheese.

I will say our wheel we just got of Rodolphe Le Meunier 16-18 month Comte is as good as cheese gets! It is a steal at $25.99/lb as it would be at least $32/lb in any other store. The Gruyere we have is from Emmi. Not a bad producer, but a big one. For $15.99/lb it is also a steal. It’s much more at grocery stores. We could easily do this same situation in reverse and buy a show stopping Rolph Beeler Gruyere and get a nice, but more common, Rivoire Jaquemin Comte. However, like you, I am more of a Francophile than a Swiss lover, so we go with show stopping French and value driven Swiss.

I am not known in the industry for making politically correct statements, so my explanation here sounds to me like an annoying cop out. But I assure you it is not. Both cheeses are truly great and were both the same cheese before the borders got redrawn. Great cheese makers and affinuers on both sides.

Hope that helps.

Thanks,

Matt

We need to give a big shout out to Solstice Chocolate for making it on City Weekly’s list of Best Local Food and Drink of 2014. As Ted Scheffler says, it was our very own Matt Caputo who introduced him to this locally made chocolate. Scheffler seems to be particularly enamored with the Solstice Madagascar bar, which, really, who could blame him?! Drop by our stores and try it for yourself.

One of the understated pleasures I have experienced in my years working for Caputo’s has been watching the gradual transformation and growth of our cheese selection to include some phenomenal domestic cheeses.

Although we remain a Southern European specialty foods store, in my mind, cheese is one of the primary things that sets us apart. Now we, in the good ol’ U.S. of A., may not have as much practice as say, France, but we are making some damn good cheese these days. One of the companies that have been at the heart of the American-made cheese renaissance is Jasper Hill Farm in Greensboro, Vermont.

Jasper Hill is a small dairy farm that’s making a big difference with the food they produce. They are drawing well-earned acclaim for their fantastic skill at promoting the terroir of the Northeast. Jasper Hill has received a lot of deserved fame for their affinage but their creamery is no slouch either. Now to the matter at hand: Harbison, which is my favorite domestic cheese. Well, at least today (I really like cheese).

Harbison, named for a Greensboro icon, comes as a small, self-contained wheel, which weighs about two-thirds of a pound. It has a delicate, white, bloomy rind that is incased in spruce bark early in its six to 13 week aging. Some people mistakenly call this soft ripened cheese a domestic attempt at Camembert or Vacherin Mont d’Or. Comparing Harbison to other cheeses as a sort of poor man’s substitute really cheapens what it is. Harbison is not Camembert. It doesn’t have to be. Harbison is Harbison and it’s really, really good.

When you open a wheel of Harbison you will notice the soft, spreadable texture. Eat this with a spoon or spread on a good baguette. Don’t overthink it. Harbison is rich with woody and vegetal notes like roasted vegetables and mushrooms. Where this cheese really stands out is that those notes are offset with a citrusy sweetness that knocks it out of the park.

Pair this with a good white wine like Latour Grand Ardeche, a French white which is routinely the single best steal in any wine store (I think it’s about $14.99 right now, 2015) and you will have made your evening complete.

The next time you are watching the news and some talking head says something like, “We used to make things in this country,” do what I do, eat some Harbison and celebrate to yourself the fact that some people still do.