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Olivia Potts | Longreads | May 28, 2026 | 4,872 words (17 minutes)
For a cheese lover, Neal’s Yard may be heaven on earth. Enter the Covent Garden branch through its distinctively inky blue front, and you can be in no doubt as to what awaits. An enormous picture-frame window shows off at least a dozen truckles and wheels of cheese. Inside, low-hanging orb lamps glow softly, illuminating the startling array. Huge wheels of Stichelton and Stilton stand stacked on top of one another, their steel-blue veins facing out. Baron Bigod—the British Brie de Meaux (and, whisper it, better than the French equivalent)—oozes suggestively. Yorkshire Pecorino gleams pale, smooth, and yogurty. Wrinkly little Yr Afr, a raw-milk goat’s cheese, fresh from the foothills of Snowdonia, sits alongside bright orange pucks of Yarlington, its cider-washed rind sticky to the touch. Neat writing on large and small blackboards displays the cheese names, origins, and prices.
