This must be it! Sure enough a hand-painted sign announced ‘Fromage de Chèvre fermier. J-B Navaron’.Jean-Baptiste peered thought the window of his tiny dairy as I pulled up.
I’d interrupted his cheese-making but smiling, he explained he’d taken over his parent’s farm about eleven years ago and had around a hundred and twenty she-goats and a few billys. Out of sight was a small herd of cows. It was an idyllic spot, cresting a gentle hill, the Chaîne des Puys dormant volcano range is the backdrop. It was clearly not chance that my cheese mimicked the shape and exact angle of the slope of these giants.
I asked Jean-Baptiste about his day. “I get up at six-thirty and milk the goats and cows”, he smiled. “On your own?” I asked. “Just me. I do it for love. For passion. Every single day. My last holiday was three years ago. Then I go to a Farmer’s Market or take my cheeses to shops like La Fromagerie Nivesse. Back in the afternoon to make more, around sixty a week” He produces four goat, two cow, and one mixed types. Mine didn’t really have a name, he explained, “Customers give their own name”. The Long-Lost Love Cheese with no name I thought. I was too shy to tell him.
We crossed the track, negotiated an electric fence, and he called to his goats. They flew down from the hilltop to surround us, a joyful, nuzzling, inquisitive bunch, sleekly-coated and happy. I’d reached the pure source of my lovely cheese, a contented farmer, with his contented animals.
Thus my story ends, but with a twist. In 2013 I had a heart attack, and as part of a healthier regime, decided I would forsake cheese. The taste of my Long-Lost-Love Cheese was the first I’d had for three and a half years. I’m happy and at ease now. I’ve found her, and having savoured the taste, I’ve given up cheese again.
But I have the memory.
Michael Cranmer travelled courtesy of Atout France and auvergnerhonealpes-tourisme.com