Today's post is my homage to a cheese, a very special selection I discovered a couple of days ago called brin d'amour, translated by some as "a wisp of love" and also sometimes called fleur de maquis. Well, never mind how you say it, to eat it is a divine experience. I found it at a trendy new grocery store, a world of wonders purportedly organic, or somewhat natural. I toured the aisles determined not to buy more than would comfortably fit in my handbasket, but rapidly noting what I would come back for next time I've got lots of money. Back in the corner was an alcove labelled Cheese Aging Room, fronted by a salesperson ready to seduce me with samples of semi-soft cheese. Here I met the one, a Corsican ewe's milk cheese that makes all other spreadable cheeses just forgettable. This discovery has reminded me how cheese responds to respectful handling: eat it at cool room temperature, accompany it with a worthy bread or cracker (in my case an excellent sourdough loaf), and savour it slowly with a silent thanks to both the sheep and the farmer who made it possible.