The best cheese in the world does not exist

But unconscious bias does.

This newsletter was slated to hit your inboxes weeks ago. I’d drafted a few thousand words, but my thoughts weren’t coming together. So I cut myself some slack—I’m the boss, after all! And then I had to do my taxes, and picked up a last-minute work assignment, and found out my cat has cancer. So here we are, a month after my last missive. 

What happened in the meantime is that the discussion around what I’d been writing about—the now-infamous TasteAtlas list of the “best” cheeses in the world—took on a whole new dimension. And I realized the uniting theme behind all those words I’d been trying to parse. Who has authority, and why? How is it claimed? What do we expect it to look and sound like? And how does that shape what we see and seek out—whether in the pages of a magazine, on our social media feeds, or in the case at our favorite cheese shop?

First, a recap: In mid-February, the food and travel website TasteAtlas posted a graphic headlined “Best Cheeses in the World” to its Instagram account. A white square with the names of 50 cheeses, a tiny flag emoji, and a numerical rating next to each. The cheese world went nuts. 

For some, the furor was a matter of national pride: Italian cheeses dominated, while many iconic French styles were absent. There were no British or American cheeses—meaning no cheddar. Greek and Eastern European cheeses were particularly well represented. This wasn’t what folks in the US or Europe were used to seeing. There were other curiosities, too—for example, mozzarella in some form takes up five slots.

tasteatlas

A post shared by TasteAtlas (@tasteatlas)

But it was the upper-left corner of that white square that sparked the most controversy. The top five spots were held, in descending order, by Parmigiano-Reggiano, Gorgonzola Piccante, Burrata, Grana Padano, and queso Oaxaca (which I’ll refer to by its true name, quesillo). 

Any list, ranking, competition, or awards show is going to prompt discussion. But in this case, people commented, shared, and responded because the cheeses on the list—in particular, the order in which they appeared—diverged so sharply from the Western European styles that consumers and industry folk have become accustomed to seeing (and placing) in the spotlight. 

My first impulse as a journalist was to examine the source. TasteAtlas, founded by Matt Babich, a self-proclaimed “controversial journalist and internet entrepreneur” from Croatia, catalogs regional foods from all over the world. I’m no globetrotting gourmand, but based on their coverage of American food, there’s reason to doubt the site’s authority. I haven’t lived in the Midwest since college, but I feel confident that Corn Flakes and Rumchata are not the region’s most popular food and drink. 

But best-of lists ranking food categories seem to be TasteAtlas’s rustic bread and artisanal butter. These lists are generated based on users’ star ratings of foods in the site’s catalog, not with any sort of comparison or criteria in mind. There is no way to confirm that a user has even tried the items they rate.

The rankings also shift constantly. The Best Cheeses list has gone through several iterations since the fracas began: Within a few days of the initial post, French and British cheeses had rocketed to the top of the list, despite Babich’s claims that the site has a system in place to prevent “nationalist” votes. The Instagram post was a snapshot of a meaningless list based on star ratings by internet randos at one moment in time. That’s all. 

That didn’t stop just about everyone who works with or enjoys cheese from going in. After French TV station TF1 accused TasteAtlas of juicing the rankings in favor of Italy, Babich posted a response to the drama his site had stirred up. “The basic idea of ​​the rankings we constantly publish is to arouse visitors' curiosity and interest in various foods,” he wrote. “Rankings awaken passion, which is a good way to pique interest.” 

One of my pet peeves is people claiming that everything a website or publication does is “for clicks”—but that, dear reader, is the definition of clickbait. 

Originally, that was going to be the gist of this newsletter: Lists, even those from legacy publications or authoritative sources, are meaningless. All cheeses have value on their own merits, and it’s pointless to compare them this way. Click through to the story and assess the source.

But shortly after the to-do died down, the reaction to the TasteAtlas list—or rather, the reaction to the reaction—sparked a much more valuable conversation in the American artisan cheese community than Babich could have anticipated. 

Among the backlash to that top five was incredulity that quesillo, a fresh, mild pasta filata cheese from Mexico, could be better than wheels from European countries like France and Switzerland. (No one seemed to have a problem with burrata, a fresh, mild pasta filata cheese from Italy, ranking so high.)

Then another website, LatinoMetrics, tried to be cute and scoff at the TasteAtlas cheese list for ranking quesillo so high in an Instagram post about cheese production in Latin America (click through to the comments to see mongers correct the record). 

latinometrics

A post shared by Latinometrics (@latinometrics)

Jessica Férnandez—cheesemonger, advocate, and co-founder of Mexican Mongers—drew attention to the post and called out the bias in this and other comments criticizing the quality of Mexican cheeses from those who know nothing about them. Monger Izzy Ocampo shared frustration about the way cheese professionals are often left out of cheese coverage, especially where Latin American cheeses are concerned, and compiled a great list of resources to learn more about these styles. 

Cheese scholar Carlos Yescas connected biased reactions to the TasteAtlas list, the recent Gruyère labeling court case, and the implications of associating Europeanness with quality in the global cheese economy. Monger Julia Gross dropped some serious knowledge about real cotija—which is nothing like the fresh, salty blocks made in the US—which we can’t access in this country due to regulatory restrictions. I encourage you to click through, hear the important insights they have to share, and follow.

I’m not sure this story has a happy ending, but when we consider what happened in the context of authority, it’s certainly an illustrative one. TasteAtlas tries to pass itself off as an authority to drive traffic to its site and inadvertently contradicts conventional wisdom about cheese quality in the process. Some readers spot this and think they know better, but they simply reinforce bias against non-European cheeses—something ingrained over time by media and the industry (and, of course, the white supremacy, capitalism, and settler colonialism that shape pretty much every aspect of our lives).

Then the real experts—respected professionals with the experience and credentials to back up their claims—push back with thoughtful analysis and point out the bias. We all learn something, and now we can have fun filling in our Cheese Madness brackets. 

But I still feel unsatisfied. As Izzy mentioned, it’s frustrating that those with real authority—the kind backed by hands-on experience, in-depth research, and firsthand knowledge—often have to struggle to get real information to the masses. Social media has made this a little easier, but the power of SEO, marketing budgets, legacy media, and now AI to shape the content we see is strong.

And systemic biases and barriers to entry to build authority and affect change are still in place at every level—whether we’re talking about accessing educational opportunities, building a platform, or reshaping distribution channels and regulations to give Latin American cheeses and cheesemakers the respect and access to markets they deserve. 

For the consumers out there: A cheese shouldn’t need to be on some best-of list or win an award or be endorsed by the powers that be for you to want a taste. Yes, people have to hear about these products somewhere, and marketers need fodder for promotion, and these platforms are one way that happens. 

Because a cheese’s real value—its significance in its community, its history, the people and animals and land that created it together—can never be captured or communicated by its temporary place on a meaningless list that will shift next year or next quarter or next month. 

Recent Work

I’m waiting on a few long-gestating pieces to come out, and here’s one of them! I wrote a quick hit on cheese crystals for Plate Magazine’s Crunch issue—how they form, where to find them, and chefs can show them off on their menus.

Recent Cheese

I’ve been hoarding some Linden Dale Farm raw milk goat wedges I picked up at Central Market in Lancaster while I was at the Pasa Conference last month. I busted out their tomme for lunch today with some saltines and Booneville Barn Citrus & Chili Marmalade (and because I was finishing up this newsletter, I tried to make it pretty for y’all).

Recent Listens

I’m a big podcast nerd, and usually, longer usually equals better. For example, I just finished medieval history podcast We’re Not So Different’s 23-part series on historical materialism, which I highly recommend for the Marx-curious.

But I also love a really short podcast that can keep me company while I’m in the shower or getting ready for bed, and Risky or Not is perfect for that.

Hosted by two food safety scholars, Risky or Not eps are typically around 10 minutes long and always educational. Anyone who has ever sent or received cheese through the mail will want to listen to “Semi-Firm Cheese at 45-55 °F for an Undetermined Amount of Time.”