Photo by Howie Southworth
A cheese board and accompanying cocktail at Cheesetique in Del Ray.
“A Table Down The Street” follows Howie Southworth, author of A Taste of Alexandria, one local barstool at a time. No reviews. Only encounters. The bartender chasing perfection, the chef with a story, the regular who swears this place was better before you found it. Food and drink may be the excuse. People are the point. A corner seat can tell you everything.
The door shuts behind me. A quiet crunch of leftover snow I leave on the sidewalk gives way to warmth, literal and otherwise. A cold afternoon in Del Ray. Streets hushed from the morning’s attempt at real snowfall. Inside Cheesetique, everything leans the other way. Light glancing off rows of bottles in the shop. A low hum of neighbors thawing out with wine, conversation and the soft shuffle of someone at the glass case, deciding between Cheddar and something they can’t yet pronounce. They’ll learn.
Rick, the GM, greets me as if we’d planned this. Apparently, 3 p.m. on a snow day, in name only, is when things heat up, and not only with cheese. The menu stretches wide, but it always returns to what melts best. Rick recounts the regulars you don’t expect. Sure, the cheese aficionados are here, always ready to debate Alpine paste versus washed rind, but the crowd at this hour is unmistakably local. The kind who know cheese isn’t the whole point. It’s the canvas, the reason to linger, the excuse to stay a little too long.
Photo by Howie Southworth
A Green Apple Martini at Cheesetique in Del Ray.
I take a seat at the bar, a chill still coming from my coat, bartender Ian approaches with the kind of confidence that can only come from pairing cheese with cocktails long enough to make it appear normal. “Green apple martini,” he says, setting down the drink with a piece of sharp cheddar perched above it, threatening to go for a swim. It was the original paired cocktail, he tells me. I nod like it explains everything.
Before long, a couple settles next to me, Rich and Lily, freshly off a home-work day and intent on maintaining just the right amount of indulgence before daycare pick-up time. Their pilgrimage is simple. Walk from home, drop into Cheesetique, walk to daycare, walk home. Life, improved by a small detour through dairy. Their cheese board arrives, and the glow in their faces could signal royalty, or at very least, well-timed, deserving parents.
Across from us, the walls return our gaze, paintings of classy goats, sheep, cows, pigs, water buffalo. The dairy family, with the required nod to ham. Their eyes seem to follow each bite, as if checking our technique. I decide they approve.
My own board arrives: Stilton, Humboldt Fog, a generous wedge of pimento cheese that earns my respect immediately, and that’s saying something in Alexandria. Grapes, cornichons, baguette, crackers, some cubes of something Gouda-like with an add-in I politely forget. I assume that’s by design. I don’t ask. Ignorantly delicious. It’s a board that travels continents without leaving the bar. Cheese, after all, is nostalgia disguised as flavor. One bite sends you back to a trip you didn’t take or one you hope to repeat.
Photo by Howie Southworth
A selection of cheeses awaits at Cheesetique in Del Ray.
My manager friend, leans in with a story about two well-traveled kids who once sat at his bar and casually debated the merits of Manchego versus Tomme de Brebis. Rick laughs, shaking his head with admiration. This place is education disguised as comfort. The lessons are tucked between sips.
Down the bar, Ian flashes a knowing grin, chatting quietly with guests who clearly know what they want without saying it. There’s no artifice here. No show. Just a shared understanding that cheese and community have a way of merging into something more than a menu. Rick remarks, almost offhand, “This staff and this community, a great combination.” He means it. You can hear it in the way he says community. Soft, like something still forming.
In the early days, Cheesetique was bucking trends, pushing Alexandria toward a world of fermentation and careful aging. Now, two decades on, it’s simply where people go. Not only because it’s chic, but because it’s home. Jill Erber built this place on that idea, that cheese could serve both mind-expansion and comfort. Her now-famous mac and cheese has become its own kind of local landmark, and for good reason. Jill knew from the start that Alexandria was ready for something both familiar and quietly elevated.
Another sip, another crumble of Stilton. Outside, the cold lingers, but in here, deliberate warmth fills the room. Wine, cheese, jamón, conversation that arrives without agenda and leaves without ceremony. The famous Del Ray embrace.
Nothing flashy announces itself here, except maybe Belle Bay, the cow statue that stands watch. Cheesetique doesn’t want to be a showstopper. It wants to be a soft landing, a neighborhood ritual, a quiet education in why things taste the way they do. In a city that loves its history, there’s something fitting about cheese, an edible archive, a small portal to everywhere and everywhen.
I finish my last swipe of role-model pimento cheese and let the sharp notes linger. Across the slowly filling room, another board arrives, and the goats on the wall look pleased. Outside, Del Ray returns to its resettling after a very modest snow, but in here the afternoon continues. Slow, warm, and perfectly aged.
Photo courtesy of Howie Southworth
Author Howie Southworth
Howie Southworth is a seasoned denizen of Old Town Alexandria and the best-selling author behind "A Taste of Alexandria: Modern Restaurant Recipes That Echo Our City's Past."
His forthcoming book, "Hemingway's Spanish Table" will be released on March 17. Past works include "Chinese Street Food," "One Pan to Rule Them All," "Kiss My Casserole!" and "How to Cook Anything in Your Dutch Oven." Howie is also a regular essayist for Salon.com.
