‘Three cheeses on, we could still taste it’: Swiss Gruyère crowned the world’s best cheese

This file photo shows a Gruyere cheese. (AP Photo/Larry Crowe, file)

Bern, Switzerland (CNN) — Remember that time you had too much cheese, felt a bit queasy and — as a greasy sheen broke out on your forehead — you lied to yourself that it was salad from now on?

Then spare a thought for the heroic judges at this year’s World Cheese Awards, who assembled on Thursday to anoint an aged Swiss Gruyère as the best cheese in the world for 2025.

This army of 265 cheese experts from all over the planet was tasked with wading through dairy concoctions of every shape, size, colour and consistency in a large auditorium in the Swiss capital Bern. In the space of a couple of hours, each judge plowed their way through at least 40 cheeses — sniffing, stroking, crumbling, and finally, tasting to arrive at a score.

The winner was Bergkäserei Vorderfultigen, a cheese made from cow’s milk at a small dairy in the Alpine lowlands of western Switzerland. “It’s an incredible honour,” said cheesemaker Pius Hitz, shortly after picking up the top prize.

While the win in previous years has resulted in a surge in sales for the champion cheese, Hitz said his herd of red and white Fleckvieh cows can rest easy. A production increase is unlikely, he said, so as not to disturb the delicate balance of the protected Gruyère market.

Bergkäserei Vorderfultigen may have only traveled a few miles to the awards, but it was still a long journey to the top. More so for its rivals, many of which had to navigate long plane rides, tricky import legislation and the U.S. shutdown even before the contest started.

No fewer than 5,244 cheeses from 46 countries made it to Bern’s Festhalle venue where, as judgment day wore on, they made their presence known with cascades of intensifying odours that collided with sound waves from an ensemble of Swiss horns tooting in the corner of the auditorium.

Soft pools of goo

The cheeses were divided up across 110 rows of white-clothed tables under the scrutiny of two- or three-person judging teams. All wearing matching yellow aprons, they were drawn from the community of makers, mongers and mavens who make up the ranks of the international cheese cognoscenti.

Shortly before 10 a.m., they began the Herculean labour of trying to find bronze, silver, gold and “super gold” contenders among the milk-based marvels — stripped of identifying features so they can be blind tasted — stretching before them.

Holes were bored in giant waxy wheels, slivers shaved from wedges, spoons dipped into soft pools of goo. In between tastings, palates were cleansed with sips of water, bites of crunchy apples and, in some cases, emergency swigs of Coca-Cola.

There were cow, sheep, buffalo, camel and donkey milk cheeses. Manchegos, Bries, Camemberts, cheddars, Parmesans, Goudas. Orange cheeses, blue cheeses, green cheeses. Cheeses covered in wax. Cheeses covered in flowers. At least one cheese doused in whiskey and red apple juice.

Some were hard. Some crumbly. Some dense. Some were light and fluffy. Some were so soft they needed to be in jars. Some, their tops cut off to reveal a moist interior glistening with mold, looked as if they might teem with lifeforms as yet unknown to science.

All were awarded points based on appearance, smell, taste, texture and the feeling it gives in the mouth — not always a pleasant experience, apparently.

“There were a couple of no-swallows today,” said Emma Young, a U.K. cheesemonger and author judging the wares laid out on table 26, pointing out a cheese that she thought might have encountered problems during the making process.

It wasn’t all bad.

“It’s bonkers,” Young added. “I’ve tasted some of the best cheeses I’ve had in my life — and some of the worst. It’s been so much of a palate workout.” She pointed to a cheese that earned top marks thanks to a “complexity” she put down to the varieties of milk used.

‘Biting into a cloud’

“If only it tasted as beautiful as it looks,” said Ashley Morton, a judge on table 11, where an unusually bright blue cheese, made using spirulina algae, was attracting camera phones. Morton, a “cheese ambassador” originally from New York who goes by the nickname Brieyoncé, favored a raw goat cheese coated in a gray substance that was “almost like biting into a cloud.”

“Look at the fruit level here,” said Jen Shelton, an organic milk expert originally from Kansas, discussing a large wheel of cheese covered in pressed grapes with fellow table-52 judge Charles Beauquesne, from France. The cheese then scattered onto the table. “It’s very crumbly,” she added. “Milky, but quite dry. The grapes give it a little bit of sweetness, but it’s claggy.”

The pair made a note of the cheese’s score, wiped down their utensils with a paper towel and moved on to the next candidate.

By midday, many of the judges had made their final selection, carrying “super gold” winners to a separate judging area where a team of seasoned cheese experts pared the field down to 14 finalists. These were then tasted and scored live on stage, like an aromatic “Dancing with the Stars.”

The shortlist included a Japanese soft goat’s cheese with a texture like whipped cream, a U.K. hard cheese the colour of a deep sunset, one U.S. cheese and, inevitably, several more Swiss cheeses. It’s widely recognized that entries from the host country have a home advantage — cheeses are not great travelers — but locals don’t always take the crown. A Gruyère won in 2022 when the contest was staged in Wales.

John Farrand, managing director of the event’s organizers, the U.K.-based Guild of Fine Food, said the World Cheese Awards stand out above other dairy contests around the planet because it can claim to be truly global — staged in different countries and involving such a diverse cast of entrants and judges. In 2026, the contest will move to Córdoba in Spain.

The winning cheese of 2025 was championed by Perry Wakeman, one of the top-level judges who normally is found aging cheese at Rennet & Rind, near Cambridge, England. The Gruyère was a worthy winner, he said, describing its complexity: “Butterscotch, caramel. Savoury, some fruit-funk notes, some slight burn on there like charcoal. The length was unbelievable. Three cheeses on, we could still taste it.”

For onlookers, the cheese judging could be a frustrating process. Concerns over foot and mouth disease and other agricultural health problems meant that only judges who’d signed a waiver were permitted to sample the produce under the terms of the contest’s special import license.

At the end of the day, the auditorium tables were still groaning with leftover cheese that would sadly never be eaten. The contest organizers said that the remnants don’t completely go to waste, but would be recycled locally and “turned into energy.”