The harder the cheese, the higher the protein content—that's the watchword according to cheese expert and James Beard Award recipient Max McCalman, author ofCheese: A Connoisseur's Guide to the World's Best. There are basically three components to cheese, courtesy of the milk it's made from: protein, fat, and water. Less water means more other stuff.
"In a sense you're getting more value for your cheese dollar, nutrition-wise, from the harder cheeses," McCalman says.
That's not the only consideration, he adds. It also depends on the animal the milk came from: sheep's-milk cheese contains the most protein, with goat and cow milks trailing behind. Has your cheese been pasteurized? The heating process might have affected the protein too—it's still there but it's been denatured, unavailable for digestion. (This is just one reason to eat raw cheeses, notes McCalman, a raw-cheese enthusiast. Another is their "fuller aroma and flavor and generally more pleasing textures.")
But we don't need to get into all that. You're just looking for excuses to eat cheese—hard cheese, raw cheese, any kind of cheese. With McCalman's help, we put together a list of some of the more protein-rich options—and then dug up some recipes that let them shine.
Corn season is nigh! Celebrate its arrival with this fancified side dish made with manchego, which is named after the breed of Spanish sheep that produce the milk it comes from.
Featuring pecorino, a hard sheep's-milk cheese, this is an easy weeknight dinner you wouldn't feel bad serving to company: the pasta ishomemadeand comes together in a snap.
This riff on the classic French ham-and-grùyere sandwich works anytime, really, but makes for an especially luxurious brunch.
Here's an excuse to pick up some good aged gouda (as well as to go wild at the farmers' market).
Skip the generic, pre-grated parm in favor of Parmigiano-Reggiano from Italy, counsels McCalman—you don't know what's in that other stuff. (How do you know if it's real? It should have "Parmigiano-Reggiano" stamped on its rind.)
With the help of a little comté, we bid farewell to the last of the spring's asparagus. See you next year, pal.
