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(Ed Alcock/The New York Times

Camembert is a rich, silky indulgence. Flavours of the sweetest butter, aromatic nuts, woody mushrooms, a finish that is savoury and long-lasting. Enjoying Camembert is like stepping into French culinary history, an AOC-protected product authentic only if made in Normandy. To serve, one must leave it out of the fridge for at least an hour, until there is a bit of gooey interior slipping from the downy rind and the cheese has warmed enough to release its beloved character onto your palate. Anything less than this experience is unacceptable, even insulting.

Recently Senator Nancy Ruth was forced to take a stand on her cheese beliefs when flying. Faced with not only a mediocre Camembert experience (chilled) but a Code Red (ice cold), she had no option but to expense her meals rather than eat the free, but tasteless and flagrantly mishandled French cheese. For those of us who have no taxpayers to cover the costs of reheated airline meals, we have to work with within out means.

You're on a plane, no access to sustenance and all you can scavenge from the flight attendant is a a lump of cold Camembert. You'd rather choke down the dry leaf wrapping of Elven bread than let this defiled, tasteless shadow of the great 18th-cntury classic pass your lips. Fear not, it's possible to resuscitate your cheese by bringing it to room temperature (and releasing its glorious flavour and aroma) with these simple hacks.

• You've probably stuck batteries under your armpits to warm them up, well, you've got two armpits and nothing to do with them so get on it. Two to three minutes is ample, but use your judgment because, darn it, planes can be cold. (Emergencies like this is why I carry wet wipes in my carry-on at all times.)

• Camembert wedges make excellent stress ball substitutes. By the time that turbulence has subsided, your cheese is warmed up and sweet to eat.

• Hold the icy wedge against the porcelain of your Earl Grey tea cup. This is effective and quick, but the downside is you may have to lick the fromage off the saucer. (If the cup is Styrofoam, circumstances have really gone downhill and the cheese won't help.)

Success! Your cheese is edible. It's softened enough that the silky, smooth paste is finally creamy; now scoop it out and use it to stick together the damn broken crackers that came with it.

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