Why Raclette Is Replacing Cheddar as America’s Favorite Melting Cheese

Raclette, the semi-hard Swiss cow’s milk cheese that transforms into a silk-smooth veil when heated, is migrating from specialty shops into mainstream American kitchens as home cooks discover its superior melting properties over traditional cheddar and American singles.

The cheese takes its name from the French verb “racler,” meaning “to scrape,” a reference to the centuries-old Alpine tradition of heating a half-wheel near an open fire and scraping the molten surface onto boiled potatoes, pickles, and cured meats. What began as sustenance for Valais shepherds has become a culinary phenomenon, with U.S. import data showing a 23% increase in Swiss raclette arrivals over the past three years.

Unlike cheddar, which can separate into oil and protein when overheated, raclette’s protein structure and 50% fat content create a stable emulsion that stays cohesive between 130°F and 160°F — the precise temperature range of a properly griddled sandwich. The cheese carries AOP (Appellation d’Origine Protégée) status in Switzerland, meaning wheels labeled “Raclette du Valais” must come from raw milk of cows grazing on designated Alpine pastures above 2,600 feet, where wild herbs and flowers impart floral, nutty notes that vary by microclimate.

“The terroir expression in raclette is remarkable,” says Master Cheesemaker Rolf Beeler, whose affineur operation supplies several New York restaurants. “A wheel from the Bagnes valley tastes distinctly different from one produced in Goms, even though they’re 30 kilometers apart.”

For home cooks, the learning curve starts at the counter. Raclette arrives as a wedge cut from a 13-pound wheel, not pre-sliced. Cheesemongers recommend slicing paper-thin shards with a wire plane or offset knife while the cheese is cold — warmth from hands softens the paste and complicates clean cuts. A mandoline set to 1/16-inch works in a pinch.

The classic accompaniment remains cornichons, their vinegar snap cutting through the cheese’s richness. But modern variations have emerged: sautéed chanterelles and pearl onions add umami depth; thinly sliced Asian pear contributes crisp sweetness; a smear of Dijon de Bourgogne sharpens without overwhelming. Purists argue that anything beyond cornichons and boiled fingerlings obscures the cheese’s nuance.

Wine pairings follow the same logic. A crisp Chasselas from the same Valais slopes mirrors the cheese’s mineral backbone, while an off-dry Riesling from Alsace balances the fat. Red drinkers should reach for light-bodied Gamay or Pinot Noir served slightly chilled.

Storage matters. Wrap wedges in cheese paper, not plastic, and refrigerate in the vegetable drawer where humidity hovers near 85%. Properly stored, a cut wedge lasts three weeks. Freeze only as a last resort — ice crystals rupture the protein matrix and degrade melt quality.

The latest development: Wisconsin cheesemakers have begun producing domestic raclette-style wheels using local milk, priced 30% below Swiss imports. Early batches show promising melt characteristics but lack the Alpine floral complexity that defines the original.