Cabrales is intimidating the first time round. It's blue, it's intense, it smells of cave — because it actually matures in caves — and it carries a tradition going back to medieval times. But you don't need to climb up to the Picos de Europa to get started: in the centre of Gijón, La Quesería has spent more than thirteen years selecting Asturian cheeses with real judgment, working directly with producers. Asturias is Spain's biggest cheese-making region, and this shop is one of the best doors in: you walk in asking questions and walk out understanding.
A country of cheeses with its capital in Asturias
This isn't a proud host's exaggeration: Asturias is Spain's biggest cheese-producing region, and in the early twentieth century it accounted for around 20% of national output. Cows, goats and sheep grazing in damp valleys, and centuries of country knowledge turning that milk into dozens of different cheeses, each valley with its own.
The crown jewel is Cabrales, the Asturian blue cheese above all others: a tradition going back to medieval times, protected as a Denominación de Origen since 1981. Its secret is maturing in natural mountain caves, where the damp and the cold do the slow work no industrial chamber ever quite manages to copy.
La Quesería: thirteen years of choosing for you
La Quesería, in the centre of Gijón, is a specialist shop with more than thirteen years of experience selecting cheeses and other products worth their salt. They work directly with producers from the region, and their counter is an edible map of Asturias: D.O.P. Cabrales, cow's, goat's and sheep's cheeses, and the products that pair well with them.
What sets it apart from buying cheese at any supermarket is the advice: you tell them what you like, how bold you're willing to be on intensity, and they steer you. For a visitor it's a rare luxury — a guided tasting disguised as shopping — and they also ship, so the discovery can carry on once you're home.
How to eat it properly
Cabrales calls for Asturian company: a culín — a small measure of natural cider, poured and drunk in one go — whose bright acidity cuts through the blue's punch, or simply a good piece of bread. If it's your first time, start small and take it slow; it's a cheese that unfolds, and the initial shock soon turns into a habit. Those already devoted to it know no two wheels are alike: the cave, the months, and the producer's hand make each one different.
Our perfect plan in Gijón: a morning walking around, a stop at La Quesería to put together a board — a Cabrales, something mild for contrast, whatever they recommend that day — and an afternoon at a cider house, or better still, a picnic with a view of the Cantabrian Sea. Few travel souvenirs are enjoyed as much as a well-chosen cheese.