The northern French region of Normandy is a beautiful and charming place to visit.  Personally, I feel that any trip to France should include a visit to Normandy if time permits.  Known for its breathtakingly beautiful beaches, half-timbered architecture, delicious local cuisine and curiously mounded country lanes, charming Normandy is a refreshing change from the upscale, urban hustle-bustle of cosmopolitan Paris.  Yet any visit to Normandy is woefully incomplete if one does not sample both the uniquely refreshing local beverage, calvados, as well as the substantial range of unique local cheeses.  These could be the most reasonably priced experiences one can have there, and could be among the most memorable as well.

La Fromagerie GRAINDORGE of Livarot, Normandy, are makers of traditional Normandy cheeses.  Particularly careful about their raw materials, E. Graindorge buys milk only from farmers who feed their cows in a certain way.  They just happen to produce two of my favorite morning cheeses, Petit Pont L'Eveque and Petit Livarot.  Both are AOC (Appellation d'Origine Contrôlée) cheeses, a designation used also for fine Burgundy and Bordeaux wines; the AOC designation provides the government's assurance of their unique origin and preparation.

The Petit Livarot is a semi-soft cow's milk cheese with a washed rind, and takes its name from its town of origin, Livarot.  Called "L'Colonel" by the locals, the cheese is banded with five strips of reddish paper, reminiscent of the five stripes once worn on a colonel's sleeve.  Once meant to hold the semi-soft contents together, this banding is today probably more of a tradition than a structural necessity.

Graindorge's Petit Livarot comes in its own little cylindrical wooden box, affixed with a colorful label.  The "Petit" in its name simply means that it is a smaller wheel than the full Livarot; Graindorge sells a 250g (0.63 lb.) cheese which cost me $10.70 at Whole Foods Market.  Opening the lid of the box, one finds the cheese wrapped in plastic-covered wax paper with an elegant French script description; the presentation is quite elegant (even if one cannot read the script!).

Upon unwrapping and removing the cheese, one notices that typical, pungent aroma of washed-rind cheese.  (My wife calls it "stinky."  I call it "heavenly!")  The rind of this little cheese wheel is indeed circled by five strips of orange paper; I take these off, carefully, as the rind of this cheese is edible (it can, indeed, be the best part).  The color of the rind is that of the crust of freshly-baked soft rolls.

Upon slicing into the cheese I note that the flesh is a deep, creamy yellow color, and that it put up little resistance to the knife.  It cuts smoothly, suggesting that it's not a soft cheese -- but not really a firm one either.  Indeed, the flesh is on the firm side, as compared to other semi-soft cheeses, and is attractively dotted with small eyes (i.e., holes).  The pungent aroma is not as noticeable as it was when opening the wrapping.

Texture of the cheese in the mouth is incredibly smooth; the feel of the thin rind is hardly distinguishable from the flesh.  A ripe, creamy, full milky flavor, backed with that characteristic washed-rind pungency, fills one's mouth.  The cheese also provides a long, intense finish, dominated by pungent yet creamy flavor notes.

E. Graindorge's Petit Livarot is a bold, creamy semi-soft cow's milk cheese with a delightful texture and true, old-world charm -- c'est Normand.  Having a slice of this cheese is rather like being right there in Normandy for just a moment.  I heartily declare this cheese to be recommended.