Ryuji Visits Tokachi Cheese Maker "age": Tasting Award-Winning Cheeses and a Tagliata with No. 7 Cheese

The guide, the president's wife, competes in a contest headquartered in France that tests cheese knowledge and cutting skills. The contest is held once every two years, and she explained that four years ago she won the Japan competition and went on to compete in the world championship in France. Ryuji said he loves cheese but doesn't know that much about it, so he asked her to teach him, and he also said he was looking forward to her wine knowledge.

The welcome drink was a Tokachi wine made from the Yamasachi variety (the subtitles render it as something like "Yamasa"). According to her, only three varieties in Japan are registered as international varieties, and this one, grown in Tokachi, is one of them. Because Tokachi winters get as cold as around minus 20°C, it was created by crossing a cold-hardy variety with the tart crimson glory vine (yamabudo), she explained. It's clean-tasting, so it's easy to pair with food, and it goes well with Japanese cuisine and local game meat. Ryuji described it as clean yet with a deep richness and umami, even reminiscent of dashi.

The first cheese served was Gouda, the mildest of the four. It's shaped into sticks, so you can open the package and eat it as is. She explained that it's a cheese that lets you taste the sweetness of the milk, and mentioned that it won an award at the Japan Cheese Awards two years ago.

Ryuji said he had rarely bothered to bite into Gouda on its own, since it's familiar as pizza cheese, but he was surprised by how strong its aroma and umami were and said it was a higher level than he expected. From the aroma the moment he opened it, he also guessed that the packaging must be designed to keep the aroma from escaping. She added that people also appreciate that it doesn't get your hands dirty and saves the trouble of cutting. Each stick is set at about 15g, and she said you can eat up to four a day without worrying about calories. Ryuji reflected that he had never before sat down and really engaged with a 100% domestic, Tokachi-made cheese.

For the next cheese, Cheddar, she explained that he should notice a toasty acidity compared with the Gouda. It goes well with beer and whisky too, but this time they paired it with a Yamasachi sparkling wine made in the same town. The bubbles and the Cheddar's acidity go well together, she said. Ryuji was surprised that it was completely different from the Cheddar he had imagined—no astringency, fruity, and fresh—and said he hadn't known a pairing could move him this much.

About the red Cheddar commonly seen in Japan, she explained the following. Cheddar is originally whitish, and red Cheddar has coloring added to keep the color consistent with milk throughout the year. In summer, cows eat green grass, so their milk takes on a yellowish tint, and the cheese's color changes with the season.

She also explained that the difference between Gouda and Cheddar lies in how they're made. Gouda, which originates in the Netherlands, is made by adding a little hot water during production so that it retains moisture even after aging. Cheddar is made by draining off all of the liquid—like what floats on top of yogurt—and breaking the curds into small pieces, which gives it a crumbly texture. Ryuji was impressed that the same milk can taste completely different depending on the method and aging period.

The third cheese was "Cheddar Katsuo," an age original made by kneading thick-cut dried bonito flakes into Cheddar. According to her, they added bonito two years ago out of a desire to create a cheese that's distinctly age, and it goes well with sake. The cut surface has a marbled pattern from the bonito, and the bonito also comes through in the aroma.

It was paired with "with Cheese," a Tokachi sake developed specifically to go with cheese. It's brewed in a traditional style and retains some acidity, she said. Ryuji checked its bright aroma and how smoothly it went down, then tried it together with the cheese and exclaimed, "Isn't this an invention?" He said he had initially assumed it contained thinly shaved bonito flakes, but because they're thick-cut, the aroma and texture remain, making it a new flavor. He added that it might look staged because he was praising it so much, but he meant it.

There was a lot of trial and error with the ratio, she said. Too much bonito and the cheese flavor doesn't come through; too little and it tastes like cheese alone. She said it took more than a year to bring it to market. The cheese won a silver award at last year's Japan Cheese Awards. Ryuji expressed surprise that a cheese that might look like a gimmick was being properly recognized. She noted that while many people think of Europe when it comes to cheese, more and more Japanese-style cheeses tailored to the Japanese palate are appearing. She also mentioned that when she had French people try it, they said "Bravo," and that it's delicious chopped and placed on piping-hot rice, where it melts.

The last was "No. 7," whose product number "7" is said to come from the name of a farm. It's a hard cheese aged for over a year, and according to her, it was entered in the Mondial du Fromage, an international competition held in France in September, where it won a bronze medal.

Ryuji picked up the rather hard cheese and reacted at the aroma stage. After eating it, he said, "No sucking up—this is the best cheese I've ever had in my life," and added that it's rare for a flavor to leave him this bewildered. The aroma has depth: after the initial cheesy aroma, a toasty, dashi-like aroma follows richly behind it. The saltiness isn't harsh either. He said he usually ate hard cheeses like this seared, so for it to be delicious just bitten into without any heat is really something. He also said that typical cheeses hit you hard but the aftertaste doesn't last, whereas this cheese has a long finish.

The reason she gave for this flavor was the raw milk. Normally, milk from about 30 farms gets mixed together, but No. 7 is made only from the milk of a single farm. It's possible if a farm milks and makes cheese on its own premises, but transporting milk in and making cheese from a single source alone is difficult. She explained that age owns its own dedicated milk tanker truck and is the only company in Japan that has one. The parent company, founded 58 years ago, deals in bags for beans and wheat, and that connection is how they found their packaging materials too.

Price came up as well. In the subtitles, figures like 2,600 yen and 2,100 yen, as well as quantities like 8 or 10 sticks, are exchanged, and the exact terms aren't clear. Ryuji repeatedly said "That's cheap," noting that before coming he had assumed it was a luxury cheese, but once you eat it you realize it isn't expensive.

Partway through, the president appeared, and Ryuji jokingly greeted him with, "Sorry for being so cheeky." When Ryuji told him again that No. 7 was the best he'd ever had, the president talked about its background. No. 7 is the company's flagship and has the longest aging period. The cheese entered in the international competition was one they started 36 months earlier with the aim of winning an award. They didn't know how it would turn out, but they were aiming for gold. The bronze result left him half happy and half frustrated. The president said it gave him a new goal.

The president also introduced their raclette, which he said took the top spot in Japan last year. Rather than the usual wheel shape, age's raclette is sold cut to a size and thickness that can be placed in a frying pan and melted as is. Cutting from a wheel produces a lot of offcuts, but they want people to eat only the delicious parts, so they use this shape, she explained. The orange rind on the outside also helps bring out the aroma. Aging it for three months while polishing the surface with brine allows linens bacteria (rendered in the subtitles as "linensuki") to develop, which seals the umami inside, she said.

As for ways to eat it, besides pouring it over toasted bread, sausages, and boiled potatoes, it also goes well with Japanese ingredients such as sliced nagaimo yam and shiitake mushrooms. Even without a dedicated machine, you can cook it in a Teflon frying pan, or tear it into small pieces, put them in a heatproof container, and warm it in the microwave.

When Ryuji actually tried the melted raclette, he was surprised that it had no funk at all, when he'd expected it to be more pungent. She explained that in Europe the surface is polished more often, which makes the smell stronger. age's raclette is characterized by a gentle aroma and plenty of umami. The president said that judging raclette is difficult because it looks at both the flavor before cooking and the aroma and melted texture when heated, but theirs came out on top in that judging.

As for drinks, since raclette is warmed and melted, it's said not to pair well with ice-cold beverages, and it can even solidify in your stomach. For sake, they suggested drinking it warmed. Ryuji described the crispy, toasted rind as "the rind is so good," saying that here the aroma comes through more than the umami. He also said the amount of glutamic acid is insane.

On hearing that only one restaurant currently serves their raclette—in Futako-Tamagawa—Ryuji reacted, "That's such a waste." He called on people in the restaurant industry watching his channel to use it. The president's side responded that while sales to individual customers are welcome, being able to supply whole wheels to restaurants would be greatly appreciated. Ryuji went on to say that the cut raclette might even taste better. Cutting it should expose it to air and degrade it, but he speculated that the packaging is so good that the flavor is preserved as is. He reflected that even though he calls himself a cooking researcher, there's so much he doesn't know, and that he hadn't realized Japan had an ingredient like this.

In the second half, as the on-location recipe, Ryuji made "The Ultimate Tagliata" using No. 7 cheese. Tagliata is an Italian steak, and he said it's delicious paired with slices of hard cheese. Since the cheese is so good, his approach was not to do anything unnecessary.

First, he put about 4 tablespoons of balsamic vinegar in a frying pan, sprinkled in a little salt, and reduced it until thickened. Finally, he added olive oil to emulsify it. Ryuji declared that he wouldn't use Ajinomoto today, the reason being that the cheese itself is a mass of amino acids. He explained that balsamic turns into sweetness and umami when heated, so simply reducing it makes a sauce. As another use, he said just tossing a salad with salt, olive oil, and balsamic is delicious, and best of all if you have some grated cheese on top.

The meat was about 200g of beef from a Hokkaido farm, and he didn't score the sinew—because it's good meat. Instead of seasoned salt-and-pepper, he sprinkled on salt and black pepper, applying the black pepper in advance so the aroma would soak in. Wiping off the drippings is the key point, he said. If the sauce sets after sitting, you can add olive oil and a little water and rewarm it, and it will emulsify with the oil and become usable again.

He used three sticks of No. 7 cheese, cutting them into thin strips with a knife. It's not rock-hard, so it goes well with meat, he said. As for cooking, he explained that for an authentic style it's better not to cook it too much, and he finished it on the rare side at 1 to 1.5 minutes per side. Italian steak isn't cooked very much, and if you're slicing it thinly, it's better to be red inside. He said it's not quite carpaccio, but close to that idea. He sliced the cooked meat on the bias, arranged it, and topped it generously with the crumbled cheese. The idea is that the cheese is both seasoning and sauce. He also explained that since it's beef paired with cheese made from cow's milk, the aromas complement each other. To finish, he added radishes, drizzled on the balsamic sauce, and added Italian parsley, olive oil, and pepper to complete the dish.

The president said he had never seen cheese used like this and that the cheese flavor really came through. The president's wife praised how chopping it with a knife preserved the texture and let the cheese flavor come through directly. Ryuji revealed that he would normally use more balsamic, but held back because the cheese was so good. He emphasized that the balsamic is just a supporting player, the cheese is the star, and it holds its own against the meat. He also paired it with wine and had the raclette again.

At the end, Ryuji summed up that although this was sponsored, he went in "for real" with no prior information, and it was more delicious than he imagined. The president's side revealed they had been nervous, having heard Ryuji was a harsh critic, and Ryuji responded that, frankly, he had underestimated them too. The president's wife said she hoped he had felt "the power of the land" along with the local wine. Ryuji mentioned how they had stated clearly that this flavor couldn't be achieved without milk from Nanami Farm, and said he was moved, wondering if that is the power of the land—the power of Tokachi. The president's wife thanked him, saying she had planned to show off her cutting skills, but instead learned a way of eating where simply chopping the sticks lets the flavor come through directly. Ryuji said he had become a fan of age's cheese as of today, that you can't go wrong bringing age's cheese as a gift, and closed by saying he'd like to visit again.