Apart from their mutual fabulousness, these two cheeses don’t have much in common. One is German, the other Swiss. One is creamy, one is firm. The German cheese is a new creation, the other a venerable classic, from centuries-old methods that hardly budge. But both are examples of masterful cheesemaking, standard bearers for their style. Tasting the greats is how you develop your palate, so I hope you’ll seek out one or both of these impressive imports.

Affineurs (experts in aging) for both cheeses were in Oakland recently for a mini festival at Market Hall Foods, the specialty retailer. Customers stood in a long, slow-moving line to sample these and other Swiss and German masterpieces, like Chällerhocker and Alp Blossom. It thrilled me to see such enthusiasm for fine cheese, although I did wince when a shopper next to me quizzed Chällerhocker’s creator, rock-star cheesemaker Walter Räss, about whether his was Swiss cheese.

“It’s from Switzerland,” I said to her, a bit brusquely. “But is it a Swiss cheese?” she repeated. “You know, a Swiss cheese like…Swiss cheese?”

I won’t pretend I don’t know what she meant. To some Americans, all Swiss cheeses are hard and have holes inside. They’re the rubbery slices you get on a deli ham sandwich.

I hope this shopper sampled the Gruyère 1655 (pictured above on the right) and noticed how utterly superior it is to those sorry deli slices. Aged for a year—months longer than supermarket Gruyère—it delivers abundant brown butter and roasted onion aromas and concentrated, lingering flavor. All those white dots on the surface are crunchy protein crystals that often develop in a long-matured wheel.

Fromage Gruyère, the affineur, is a century-old firm that specializes in aging, not making, Gruyère. They buy thousands of wheels young, at three to four months, and bring them to their cellar for further aging. At five months, the minimum age for Gruyère AOP, they are graded by outside experts. The wheels from Fromagerie Le Crêt, one of the affineur’s 27 suppliers, consistently scored so high (a five-year average of 19.5 out of 20 points) that the affineur decided to brand them separately. These exceptional wheels are matured for a year, occasionally brushed with a rare mountain salt and released under the brand Gruyère 1655. Three other creameries are in the affineur’s 1655 program but only Le Crêt wheels come to the U.S.

Surrounded by greatness: Albert Kraus, maker of Alp Blossom (left) and Norbert Sieghart (right)

Why 1655? According to lore, that’s the year that cheesemakers in the Gruyère region started calling their wheels by the regional name.

The newbie pictured on the left is Red Casanova, whose affineur (Norbert Sieghart of Kaeskuche) was at the Oakland festival. He told me that he and his cheesemaker partner were attempting to create a sturdier version of Limburger, the massively stinky German cheese with a cult following. (I’m in the cult.) Limburger is soft and moist and difficult to get to U.S. cheese counters with any shelf life. I haven’t seen it in years, although Wisconsin’s Chalet Cheese makes a domestic version.

Produced with cream-enriched organic milk from a small Bavarian co-op, the six-week-old Red Casanova is almost a triple cream. No wonder it’s so luscious, with a dreamy texture like softened butter and a thin, slightly crunchy rind. Of course it smells hugely—my nose finds yeast, garlic, onion, scrambled eggs, sausage and cow barn—but thrill seekers will love that. I certainly do. Lay a slice on dark bread, top with a sliver of sweet onion and open a saison. (Boulevard Brewing Tank 7 works for me.) Such well-made cheese, and who better than Casanova to bring to the table on Valentine’s Day?

Find retail sources for both cheeses here.