Tag: Charles VI of France

JUNE 4, 1411: THE CHEESE STANDS ALONE

Posted on by Richard Daybell

Even in 1411, the people of Roquefort-sur-Soulzon had been making cheese as long as anyone could remember.  And all because a young man was lured away from his lunch by a fair young maiden. Or so the story goes.

The cheese-making folks of Roquefort-sur-Soulzon were probably the only ones making the tangy, crumbly sheep’s milk cheese with its distinctive veins of green mold. Nevertheless on June 4, 1411, French King Charles VI granted them a monopoly for the ripening of the Roquefort cheese.

What makes Roquefort Roquefort is its aging in the Combalou caves of Roquefort-sur-Soulzon. Popular legend suggests that the cheese was discovered when a young man eating his lunch of bread and ewe’s milk cheese spied a hot young woman in the distance. Naturally, he ran off to pursue her, leaving his lunch in the cave. Legend leaves the results of his amorous pursuit to our imaginations, but his appetite must have been somehow satisfied since he didn’t return to the cave for several months. When he did, the mold present in the cave – Penicillium roqueforti to be exact – had done an ugly duckling number on his lump of cheese transforming it into a cheese of beauty. The bread, however, was another story.

The French take their wine and their cheese seriously. A ruling in 1961 decreed that although the Roquefort-sur-Soulzon method for the manufacture of the cheese could be followed across the south of France, only those cheeses ripened in the natural caves of Mont Combalou could bear the name Roquefort. Today, its production involves some 4,500 people who herd special ewes on 2,100 farms in a carefully defined grazing area. In 2008, 19,000 tons were produced, with 80% of it consumed in France.  It’s a laborious process — 4,500 folk dropping their 4,500 lumps of ewe’s milk cheese and running off in hot amorous pursuit of 4,500 other folk.

 

 

January 28, 1393: I Don’t Want To Set the World on Fire

Posted on by Richard Daybell

A rather unusual celebration took place in France on January 28, 1393 — a masked ball, given by Isabeau of Bavaria, wife of King Charles VI. The ball, which was later given the name Bal Des Ardents or Ball of the Burning Men, celebrated the remarriage of one of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting. The quaint French custom on such an occasion called for rowdiness and tomfoolery.

At one point during the festivities, six men capered about in costumes portraying wood savages. Their linen outfits were soaked with resin to which flax was attached, making them shaggy from head to toe. They howled like wolves, shouted obscenities, and taunted the audience, inviting them to guess their identities. One of the six men was King Charles himself.

The King’s brother and a drinking buddy arrived late to the party, already drunk. They held torches close to the savages in an attempt to guess their identities — too close, setting the men ablaze. A Duchess, standing near the King, threw her gown over him to protect him. One of the other men jumped into a tub of ale. The other four perished.

Whether or not there was any cause and effect, it was about this time that Charles began to suffer bouts of mental instability, during which he would attack and frequently kill those near him. Modern psychologists, with their advanced knowledge, might refer to the King as mad as a hatter. Charles himself insisted that he was a stable genius and the best king in the history of France.

One of his most celebrated bouts with reality was his belief that he was made of glass and might be easily broken. As a result he allowed no one to touch him and anyone who approached him was required to tread lightly on tiptoe. The windows of the castle remained shut at all times to create an absolutely quiet environment, lest any sudden noise might — well, you know. Modern psychologists refer to this malady as glass delusion or if you break it, you buy it syndrome.

Charles endured his various idiosyncrasies until he was finally shattered in 1422.

Adios Mis Amigos

On January 28, 1948, a DC-3 plane carrying 32 passengers crashed in California’s Diablo Mountain Range, killing everyone aboard. News reports listed only the pilot, first officer and stewardess by name; the others were identified as deportees. The Hispanic victims were buried in a mass grave marked “Mexican Nationals.” At least they were not identified as rapists and murderers and other really bad people.

Woody Guthrie wrote a song about the incident:

JUNE 4, 1411: THE CHEESE STANDS ALONE

Posted on by Richard Daybell

Even in 1411, the people of Roquefort-sur-Soulzon had been making cheese as long as anyone could remember.  And all because a young man was lured away from his lunch by a fair young maiden. Or so the story goes.

The cheese-making folks of Roquefort-sur-Soulzon were probably the only ones making the tangy, crumbly sheep’s milk cheese with its distinctive veins of green mold. Nevertheless on June 4, 1411, French King Charles VI granted them a monopoly for the ripening of the Roquefort cheese.

What makes Roquefort Roquefort is its aging in the Combalou caves of Roquefort-sur-Soulzon. Popular legend suggests that the cheese was discovered when a young man eating his lunch of bread and ewe’s milk cheese spied a hot young woman in the distance. Naturally, he ran off to pursue her, leaving his lunch in the cave. Legend leaves the results of his amorous pursuit to our imaginations, but his appetite must have been somehow satisfied since he didn’t return to the cave for several months. When he did, the mold present in the cave – Penicillium roqueforti to be exact – had done an ugly duckling number on his lump of cheese transforming it into a cheese of beauty. The bread, however, was another story.

The French take their wine and their cheese seriously. A ruling in 1961 decreed that although the Roquefort-sur-Soulzon method for the manufacture of the cheese could be followed across the south of France, only those cheeses ripened in the natural caves of Mont Combalou could bear the name Roquefort. Today, its production involves some 4,500 people who herd special ewes on 2,100 farms in a carefully defined grazing area. In 2008, 19,000 tons were produced, with 80% of it consumed in France.  It’s a laborious process — 4,500 folk dropping their 4,500 lumps of ewe’s milk cheese and running off in hot amorous pursuit of 4,500 other folk.