Bee Wilson on the politics of Gruyere
We are often encouraged to believe that the greatest cheeses, like the greatest wines, must be made by individuals. This is the auteur theory of food and drink. When eating fine cheese, one sniffs for the personality beneath the rind. If it isn't the result of a single-minded artisan getting his hands milky, it can't be first-rate. It must be generic, bland, plastic. But there is at least one great and venerable cheese that disproves the auteur theory. Gruyere, despite its popularity among the winter-holidaying bourgeoisie, is a communist cheese. Its interior may be yellow, but its rind is printed defiantly red.
True Gruyere comes from the Gruyere valley, in French Switzerland. The name of both the place and the cheese derives originally from Charlemagne's officiers gruyers, who sold fuel to alpine cheese-makers in exchange for cheese; and the cheeses resembling Gruyere go back at least to the 12th century. Its nutty flavour comes from milk squeezed from red and white cattle - either Montbeliardes or Pie-rouges. It is waxily packed in rounds weighing 50-60kg. Its distinctive texture is dense and hard. The French, snooty as they are about the Swiss table, expect it to come with holes ("eyes"), like cartoon cheese; so holes are specially created for the French export market. True Gruyere, however, can't afford to have holes; its function is to sustain hard-working mountain communities through the winter.
This is where the communism comes in. A single Gruyere de Comte requires up to 530 litres of milk. It would take 30 cows to yield this much, whereas most farms in the region have far fewer. The solution is a co-operative one. Since the 13th century, dairymen in Jura have banded together in jointly owned dairies, known as fructeries or fruitieres. Each farm brings as much milk as possible into a communal vat and together the farmers produce a cheese better than any could make by themselves. Each farm is rewarded according to its milk contribution.
French socialists in the 19th century were greatly impressed by the communist milkmen of the Comte. Could they lead the way to a harmonious industrial future? No, as it turned out. In fact, the closest Gruyere came to producing communal harmony is the fondue. If Gruyere production is idyllic communism, the fondue is disappointed communism. This is a dish where each diner is rewarded according to their greed, not their need, and the happiness of all can be spoiled by the selfishness of a few. The pot crowds with other people's crumbs. Fondue's philosophy is "share and share alike"; but its reality is chaos and injustice. Personally, I'd rather eat a plain piece of mature Gruyere with some fruit on my own separate plate and think of the cowmen of Jura. But some people think it fun to eat fondue, just as some people enjoyed living in Stalinist Russia.
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