REVIEW: Seduced in Selfridges by Godminster’s Brie

11 Sep

Temptation comes in many forms. Forget the biblical ones – the prophets and apostles were obviously deprived of a good Brie, or else they would have surely forewarned against the perils of its porcelain skin and creamy flesh. Many a diet has been derailed by its wanton allure.

Partial to parading itself in public – markets and festivals seem to be popular haunts – it is difficult to avoid bumping into one another; usually at the most inopportune moments, often after inwardly resolving to abstain from temptation.

I sheepishly share with you one such recent encounter:

Feeling peckish during a trip to Central London but with little or no money in my pocket, I headed towards a beckoning friend: Selfridges. Walking through its charming Food Hall is always a rewarding endeavour – an abundance of free samples should negate the need to purchase a full lunch. Or so goes the theory. In reality, the delicious morsels one consumes more often lead to dangerous impulse purchases.

I have been known to leave the store laden with a range of items I neither required nor intended to buy. In my time, I have carted home everything from expensive vinegars and piquant sauces to gluttonous cakes and healthy yogurts!

However, of all the options in the heavenly hall, there is one that has been known to frequently derail my budget: the cheese counter. Good Lord, what a temptation! Smoked, soft, hard, blue, international, British, pasteurised, unpasteurised, flavoured, plain – there’s a cheese for every palette and every mood. Whether you’re seeking comfort and consolation or pleasure and elation, Selfridges offers a cheese to induce the required emotion.

It was here, by the side of the counter, where we finally met, in the most unexpected and illicit of encounters. I had been strolling along, admiring a particularly beautiful roasted, Organic pork leg when there it was… sprawled naked, ivory curves on show for all to see, lying in the most provocative manner on top of a discarded wrapper.

Posing seductively, its intent was abundantly clear; Godminster Brie wanted to seduce me (oh, how ironic to have the Lord’s name within its title). My rumbling tummy betrayed my growing hunger; I was insatiable, too weak to resist its smooth, silky skin. It was love at first sight.

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Its chaperone, a delightful lady from Godminster Farm, did little to curtail my hunger: “It’s Organic,” she revealed. My heart briefly stalled as my mouth began to water. My new love, such a rare and delicate treasure, was not only beautiful but also angelically pure. I chided myself for ever doubting its virtue.

A longing smile must have seeped across my unworthy features, for the kindly chaperone suddenly uttered: “Would you like to try it?”

I caved to inner desire and there, in broad daylight, within the expanse of the Food Hall, I succumbed. Fireworks exploded! Produced on a farm in Bruton, Somerset, using Jersey milk, there was a delightful depth to its flavour, as if all the beauty of that glorious region had converged into one.

As I lost myself within the pleasure of its melting strokes upon my tongue, the chaperone announced its superior, award-winning status (a Great Taste Award with which I heartily agree).

No sooner had I finished with my fair love, the chaperone coyly introduced its unexpected companion – an exotic-looking, freckled specimen, intent on spicing things up: Brie with Black Pepper!

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Where my fair love had been subordinate and soothing, this new offering was bold and unapologetically dominant. Pulled into the delicious delights of a 50 Shades-esque slap upon my taste buds, I was now torn between the two beauties.

“They’re £5.99 each if you would like to take them home,” explained the chaperone. My word. A bargain at twice the price! You certainly don’t get this sort of offer on the high streets of North London, although one does wonder about the fridge contents of certain Tweed-clad neighbours.

Who would have imagined that an innocent visit to Selfridges would lead to a cheesy seduction and the offer of a private threesome at home? As my mind roved to thoughts of wild abandon over a cheeseboard with my two new loves, snap shots of the props awaiting in my kitchen brought forth a heavy sweat from my brow.

Images of thick, quince jam and plump, curvaceous grapes – vigorously sandwiched between the fair and fiery duo laid before me – were too tantalising to dismiss. I knew then that my inner resolve to be ‘good’ was futile. The two Bries had generously supplied a taste of their charms and I couldn’t be so impolite as to turn them away; such rudeness wouldn’t be Christian.

However, with funds somewhat absent at the moment of our meeting, I had no choice but to reign in my appetite and mumble my excuses. Upon returning to my abode, I consoled myself with the internet. It was a brisk session, over within minutes – I had found the strumpets causing my pain on Godminster’s website, reiterating their offer to join me at home for the tiny additional cost of postage!

Resigning myself to future weekends hugging the Weight Watchers cookbook, I added Godminster’s site to my list of ‘Favourites’ – reflecting our meaningful encounter. It was no slap-dash ‘one bite stand’. Goodness no. We’re involved.

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