The wine bar: you know it well.
The cheese shop: been there, done that.
The cheese shop/wine bar: uncharted territory with limitless promise.
Allow us to present Mission Cheese, the city’s first cheese bar, and a glowing temple to all things vino, beer and dairy, opening tomorrow on Valencia.
Think of Mission Cheese as a wine bar in reverse (note: they’re expecting their beer/wine license to be approved any minute now). You’ll start by ordering from the list of 60 different cheeses, then opt for a riesling with your gouda, and maybe circle back for some sharp cheddar.
At the door, the familiar, pungent cheese fragrance greets you. Then, upon stepping inside, you’ll find that the space is appropriately cavernous with concrete walls and ceilings, reclaimed barnwood paneling, and a walnut bar with okra-colored tiles to make it inviting enough for several rounds of fromage blanc.
They’ve got set cheese plates, and you can build your own (from seven refrigerators stocked with finds from California and Maine, as well as a highly coveted clothbound cheddar from Wisconsin—it helps that the owner/cheesemonger has Wisconsin roots). And since you wouldn’t stop there, there’s mac and cheese, pressed sandwiches, raclette and charcuterie on hand.
Of course, if you want to take some home, they’ll cut it to order.
Turns out, you can take the cheese out of the cheese bar.
The cheese shop: been there, done that.
The cheese shop/wine bar: uncharted territory with limitless promise.
Allow us to present Mission Cheese, the city’s first cheese bar, and a glowing temple to all things vino, beer and dairy, opening tomorrow on Valencia.
Think of Mission Cheese as a wine bar in reverse (note: they’re expecting their beer/wine license to be approved any minute now). You’ll start by ordering from the list of 60 different cheeses, then opt for a riesling with your gouda, and maybe circle back for some sharp cheddar.
At the door, the familiar, pungent cheese fragrance greets you. Then, upon stepping inside, you’ll find that the space is appropriately cavernous with concrete walls and ceilings, reclaimed barnwood paneling, and a walnut bar with okra-colored tiles to make it inviting enough for several rounds of fromage blanc.
They’ve got set cheese plates, and you can build your own (from seven refrigerators stocked with finds from California and Maine, as well as a highly coveted clothbound cheddar from Wisconsin—it helps that the owner/cheesemonger has Wisconsin roots). And since you wouldn’t stop there, there’s mac and cheese, pressed sandwiches, raclette and charcuterie on hand.
Of course, if you want to take some home, they’ll cut it to order.
Turns out, you can take the cheese out of the cheese bar.
