Enter any French cheese shop, especially in spring, and you’ll notice that the chèvre section is particularly robust.
Producers of fresh goat cheeses make them all over France and in all shapes and sizes, from the truncated pyramid of Valençay to the suggestive Sein de Nounou (nanny’s breast), from the imposing 1-kilogram Gabarre to teeny Pélardons, Picodons, and Crottins de Chavignol, all of which would easily fit in your pocket.
But of all of them, Rocamadour may well be the tiniest. At just 35 grams, it’s one of the smallest AOP cheeses, but it looms large in terms of its crowd-pleasingly nutty flavor and uniquely oozy texture.
Rocamadour is Resolutely Reflective of its Terroir
Of the 16 AOP goat’s milk cheeses, seven come from the Loire Valley, which has long been known as the cradle of chèvres. But Rocamadour reflects a wholly different terroir, one perhaps better known for its walnuts, foie gras, and truffles. Hailing from the Lot, which straddles the former provinces of Quercy and Périgord, Rocamadour offers a departure from the bright, grassy goat cheeses of the Loire, showcasing instead a natural nuttiness which, when coupled with its oozy texture, makes it fairly unique in the realm of chèvres.
That said, Rocamadour wasn’t necessarily destined to stand apart. It’s just one of many cabécous made throughout Occitanie; these diminutive, 40-gram cheeses get their name from the local Rouergue dialect’s term for little goat. But unlike the cabécous of Fel or Livernon, Rocamadour stands out as the only one of its cousins to boast an AOP.
Rocamadour’s name, like that of many cheeses, comes from a village – and an impressive one at that. The medieval town of Rocamadour is a sight to behold, albeit not for those with a fear of heights. Carved into a cliffside, the town is known for its narrow, twisting streets and monumental staircase that pilgrims climb on bended knee to reach the famous Black Virgin in the chapel of Notre-Dame de Rocamadour.
Producing Rocamadour
The cahier des charges for Rocamadour is quite precise. Each hectare of land can support no more than ten goats of either the Alpine or Saanen breed. Eighty percent of their feed must come from the AOP zone, and the fat content of the whole, raw milk must be higher than its protein content.
About a third of the 1300 tons of Rocamadour produced each year are made by farmstead producers like Sophie Delpeuch. At Ferme des Champs Bons, she and her three business partners and their six employees transform the milk of their own herd of 400 goats using time-tested, artisanal methods.
First, the fresh milk is transferred into two large tanks to which a small amount of rennet is added, along with ferments produced here on the farm. The AOP imposes at least an 18-hour curdling, but the team pushes this to a full 24 hours to develop even more flavor. Next, the curd is drained in large bags for a further 24 hours.
“Of course, we work with raw milk, and lactation varies,” explains Delpeuch. “So it’s up to us to adapt.”
From there, the curd is molded into the diminutive cheeses, each of which measures just 60 millimeters in diameter, and then transferred onto metal racks to age. Delpeuch and her team make somewhere between 4,000 and 6,000 Rocamadours a day.
“Nothing is mechanized,” she explains. “Everything is done by hand. So, of course, that requires some manpower.”
And some goatpower. Delpeuch and her team work exclusively with Alpines, a choice she explains is due in large part to the fact that Saanens tend to be a bit bigger.
“And then of course it’s historic,” she says. “This farm is over 30 years old, and bit by bit, we made a choice to have Alpines.”
Delpeuch was raised here, but she wasn’t destined to become a cheesemaker. She first earned her undergraduate degree in history before working in cultural outreach and then administration.
Finally, she founded a dance school… and then her parents announced their plans to retire.
“We had already come back to the region, with my partner,” she recalls. “And I just thought…”
She shrugs, as though the decision made itself, but watching her work, flipping each rack of cheese one by one, it’s clear she’s found her passion.
Flipping the rack ensures that the cheeses age evenly, to take on their characteristic texture: a fudgy heart surrounded by a runny creamline, all encased in a thin, velvety rind that bears the marks of the grill upon which it’s aged: a hallmark of the cheese. Typically, Delpeuch notes, these marks are only visible on one side.
“When you put them on boards, you’re supposed to put them grill side-up,” she says. “But I mean, it’s mainly an aesthetic choice.”
The tiny cheeses need to age a minimum of just six days before being ready for sale. At its youngest, six- to ten-day-old Rocamadour is creamy, with a mild, milky flavor. At this point, the thin, velvety skin of the cheese should slip easily over the runny creamline with the touch of a finger – another hallmark of Rocamadour that shows it’s been made well. At ten to 15 days of aging, the rind will start to wrinkle, and it will develop more nutty aromas. Upwards of 15 days, and the tiny cheese becomes firm and intense, perfectly paired with local red wines from Cahors.
A Seasonal Creation
While goat cheese is innately seasonal, Delpeuch can produce all year long thanks to long lactation cycles engendered by a bit of autumnal trickery. “We put on the lights for a longer time during the day,” she explains. “That way, they think it’s spring.”
This leads to hormone spikes, which means that part of the herd gives birth in the fall, while the rest gives birth in the spring.
Nevertheless, in January, the aging cellars are relatively empty, following the surge of sales at Christmas, when Delpeuch proposes some specialty products for holiday tables, like apéro-sized buttons of chèvre or barely-set fresh curds coated in black pepper or basil. These join a wider range of offerings she proposes all year long alongside Rocamadour. The Médaillon des Champs Bons is a larger-format cheese more than four times the size of its AOP cousin, though aside from its size, Delpeuch explains, the Médaillon is very similar to the teeny
Rocamadour
“It’s the same process,” she says, “so it’s pretty much the same thing.”
This is not the case of the Lingot du Causse, a brick of goat cheese that’s a bit more generously salted, a process that, coupled with its shape, gives it a unique texture. “They’re a bit less runny, but still very creamy,” says Delpeuch.
These creations predate her arrival on the farm, but a few years ago, she added her own fingerprint to the offerings.
“During Covid, orders dropped,” she says. “But the milk was still coming, so we needed to find a solution to make something.” She chanced upon the idea of transforming the milk into a drinkable yogurt, which she flavors with all manner of fruits from strawberry to mango.
“Drinkable, farm-raised, goat’s milk yogurt, no one’s really doing that around here,” she says.
So we thought… might as well try.”
And it’s proven a decisive success. Not only is it more profitable than cheese, since, as she explains, with a liter of milk, one can make a liter of yogurt, but the product has been so well-received that it even won a gold medal at the 2025 Mondial du Fromage in Tours.
Since Rocamadour’s best season is spring, it should come as no surprise that this is when the region celebrates it.
Each Pentecost weekend, the village of Roquefort hosts one of the rare festivals devoted exclusively to cheese in the French southwest. Visitors come to explore the outdoor producers’ market, take part in cheese tastings and cheesemaking workshops, listen to local folk music… and witness the ceremony bestowing an award on the best Rocamadour of the year.
Are you familiar with Rocamadour?
All images copyright Emily Monaco
Introducing Contributor, Emily Monaco
Immerse yourself in all of Emily’s articles on her Contributor page.
Fascinating! We live a couple hours away from Rocamadour and it’s on my list to visit. I’ve already tasted the cheese but it was fun to learn more about the production process…