Tarte au Maroilles

Maroilles is one of France's oldest cheeses, a washed-rind cow's-milk cheese with an AOP, made since the early Middle Ages by the monks of the Abbey of Maroilles in the Thiérache, on the border of the Nord and the Aisne. The tart built on it is the everyday dish of the surrounding countryside, the so-called ch'ti table, and is closely related to the older goyère and flamiche of the Flemish and Hainaut plains. It belongs to the same northern tradition as the savory cheese tarts of Belgium just over the border, but is defined by the specific strength of Maroilles.

The smell hits first — barnyard, ammoniac, unmistakable — but the first bite is a surprise: the baked Maroilles is creamy and savoury, salty and faintly sweet, far gentler than its rind warns. It sits in a soft set custard over a crust that is bready and yielding rather than crisp. Warm, the cheese pulls in soft threads; the crème fraîche underneath rounds out the sharpness. A green salad with a sharp vinaigrette cuts the richness, and the regional way is to wash it down with a blond beer.

Maroilles is a washed-rind cheese: through ripening its rind is brushed with brine, which favours the orange Brevibacterium that produces the strong aroma and the soft, supple paste. That high-moisture paste melts smoothly in the oven, and gentle heat is key — too hot and the fat splits and the cheese turns oily and bitter. The crème-fraîche custard sets around the melting cheese to hold it, while a bread dough enriched with butter gives a soft base that soaks up the savoury juices without going soggy. Baking browns the cheese surface through the Maillard reaction, deepening the flavour while the heat tames the raw pungency.