Why Cheese Smells Like Feet: The Odd, Nose-Tickling Chemistry Explained

Cheese or Feet? Who Dealt That Smell?

Let’s not tiptoe around it: Cheese that smells like feet is a universal punchline – and sometimes a party-ruiner, depending on the ventilation and sense of humor in the room. But here’s the big twist: it isn’t just your imagination. Some of the world’s most delicious cheeses share an uncanny olfactory resemblance to your gym socks after a marathon in July. You might ask: why? Why do otherwise respectable foods unleash aromas that cause people to wince, back away, or try to discretely blame the dog?

It turns out, the infamous footy smell is no mere accident of fermentation. It’s a calculated byproduct, the handiwork of microscopic artists working tirelessly on every block, wheel, and wedge that dares venture into the world of stinky cheese. Get ready to meet the culprit with a penchant for both cheese caves and human skin — the bacteria that binds us all in one big, smelly embrace.

The Smelly Culprit: Meet Brevibacterium linens

Brace yourself: the bacteria Brevibacterium linens is the villain (or hero?) of this aromatic drama. This unassuming microbe is found both on human skin (especially between toes, in a good pair of unwashable socks) and on the rinds of cheeses like Limburger, Époisses, Munster, and Taleggio.

What do these two environments have in common? Warmth, moisture, a dash of salt, and a general lack of concern about social acceptability. B. linens thrives when given time to break down proteins and release volatile sulfur compounds, like methanethiol, which waft through your nostrils in a parade of ‘fragrant’ glory. (If you enjoy cheese, replace “parade” with “opera.” If not, maybe “chemical spill.”)

What Exactly Are These Compounds Doing to My Nose?

Brevibacterium linens, with a work ethic rivaling obsessive gym rats, loves devouring the amino acid methionine. In the process, it excretes methanethiol, along with a rogue’s gallery of other sulfur-containing molecules. These same molecules are the main reason your shoes can clear a room during sleepovers. Yes – the foot-smell signature your mother warned you about also drives passionate cheese aficionados to spend hundreds on properly aged French rinds. Nature is nothing if not creative.

The nose’s olfactory sensors are finely honed to detect these compounds even at incredibly low concentrations. So, the next time you cringe at someone opening a ripe round of Limburger, remember: your ancestors evolved to sniff out danger and decay. You have, in effect, a gourmet-grade mold detector built right into your face. Bravo!

When Did This Become Desirable?

History tells of daring palates – and probably extremely hungry peasants – who first noticed that stinky cheeses tasted delicious. Over the years, what might have started as a mistake (or a dare) has morphed into a culinary obsession in cultures across Europe. The red, sticky rinds washed with brine, beer, or wine – and inoculated with perfect cultures of B. linens – are not an accident! From the caves of France to the monasteries of Belgium, cheese makers have become expert microbiologists and casual chemists, cultivating the funk with the pride of great perfumers.

During the Middle Ages, visitors to certain abbeys were said to have fainted at the entryway, allegedly felled by the robust aroma wafting from the cheese cellars. Monks, known for their solemn dedication, were also apparently skilled at smuggling cheese past border controls (unsurprisingly, ferocious dogs were never fooled).

The Global Tour of Stinky Cheeses

Europe wears the crown with formidable entries. France alone could gag a whole classroom:

• Limburger (Belgium, but adopted by Germans and Americans with alarming enthusiasm)
• Époisses (so stinky, it *was banned* from public transport in France)
• Munster (from the Alsace, not the monster in your closet, though both are pretty ripe)
• Stinking Bishop (England’s finest answer to France—or worst revenge, depending on your nose)

Not to be outdone, Italy brings Taleggio and Gorgonzola to the barnyard dance, while Germany’s Handkäse delivers a punch to the palate and the sinuses. The reality: each stinky cheese owes its personality to the careful nurture of specific bacterial cultures. Ich bin ein Limburger, indeed!

What Science Says: Research, Reactions, and Revolting Discoveries

Real science has investigated why people love or hate the cheese-foot conundrum. Food scientists and neuroscientists have discovered that cheese fans’ brains actually process these stinky molecules differently—a phenomenon called learned pleasure. An infamous study out of Switzerland found that stinky cheese lovers not only tolerate but actively anticipate the aroma, because they associate it with rich, creamy, umami-packed flavors that only a truly mature cheese (and person) can appreciate.

Meanwhile, younger or uninitiated noses react with full fight-or-flight: wrinkling, recoiling, perhaps even deploying an exaggerated gag reflex—great for parties, less so for cheese shop employees. This is all perfectly natural. Humans are weird, and so are the things we train our brains to love.

Cultural Reactions: Reverence or Revulsion?

If you think everyone hates stinky cheese, you clearly haven’t been to France during a heatwave. In France and parts of Italy or Switzerland, stinky cheese is a badge of honor, a right of passage, and occasionally the cause of minor diplomatic incidents when brought on airplanes. Cheese boards overflow with suspiciously pungent wedges, often arranged in order of olfactory aggression.

Elsewhere—say, in Japan or parts of the U.S.—offensive cheeses are sometimes banned from public places, or at least shunned by polite company. In the U.K., retailers once risked legal action after Stinking Bishop nearly shut down a city bus. In oddly specific Swiss traditions, stinky cheese is paired with black coffee, resulting in an a.m. aroma ritual that could wake the dead (or at least the neighbors).

Are There Health Risks to Such Ripe Rinds?

Relax: Brevibacterium linens is harmless except to your social life. It’s not a human pathogen; in fact, the only time you’d ever risk a cheese-induced malady is by eating poorly stored dairy. Well-made stinky cheese is safe, nutritious, and packed with protein, calcium, and flavor compounds (which, sure, sound like laboratory mistakes but are perfectly edible).

So...Why Do We Crave the Stink?

This, dear reader, is the evolutionary whodunit. It’s the culinary equivalent of Stockholm Syndrome: what should repel us—aromas associated with decay—now entices our curious, adventurous palates. Certain food-lovers are drawn to intensity, novelty, and, perhaps, the bragging rights of eating something that could double as industrial solvent.

Food psychologists theorize that cultures develop prestige foods as ‘tests of bravery’—if you can survive a meal of Époisses or Munster, polite society will never bother you again. And once you learn to love it, the brain’s dopamine pathway kicks in (reward for danger and adventure!), amplifying desire for the next nose-plugging bite. Evolution, you magnificent prankster.

Comparing Cheese to Other Stinky Delicacies

If you think cheese is the only food that fights for nasal supremacy, think again. Pungent fermented foods like durian fruit, fermented tofu (stinky tofu), kimchi, sauerkraut, and certain fish sauces reveal that every culture has its olfactory endurance tests. Some of us run marathons; others eat Limburger. Daring is in the eye (and nose) of the beholder.

Consider durian, Asian king of fruits and international airport-pariah. Or Sweden’s famous surströmming—fermented Baltic herring, banned from some apartment buildings for the risk of permanent stink. Why do we do this to ourselves? To prove, perhaps, that flavor conquers fear, or just to have a good story at the dinner table.

Pop Culture & Cheese Jokes

From children’s cartoons (“who cut the cheese?”) to movies employing the classic cheese-under-the-door gag, foot-scented fromage has achieved immortality in comedy. TV chefs compete to see who can introduce the stinkiest cheese to hesitant guests; meanwhile, cheese-shop employees across Europe trade war stories about tourists whose eyes water before the tasting even begins.

There is an undercurrent of reverence too—mature cheese is expensive, labor-intensive, and has its own rituals and fandoms (think of connoisseurs as the sommeliers of cow socks).

What If B. linens Had Never Found Its Way Onto Cheese?

Imagine if cheese makers were tidier than Swiss bankers and stopped B. linens from colonizing their rinds. The world would lose entire categories of bold, rich, savory cheeses.

What would replace it? Perhaps the cheese world would be filled with anemic, flavorless dairy bricks—nothing to challenge your tastebuds (or the air in your refrigerator). Fewer pilgrims would journey to France for a cheese tour; artisanal producers might hedge their bets on blandness. And where would comedians be without a good cheese joke?

The Big Picture: Embracing Smelly Magic

Every time you try a pungent cheese, you partake in a centuries-old experiment of taste, bravery, and the wondrous power of fermentation. What started as a microbial accident now connects villages, nations, and dinner parties in an endless campaign to see who can handle the funk. It’s a dance between disgust and delight, guided by nature’s weirdest collaborations.

So next time your cheese board threatens to empty the room, remember: you’re not just snacking, you’re participating in evolution’s favorite inside joke. Thanks, B. linens—we owe you a (toe) jam session.

A Final Slice of Wisdom

Whether you plug your nose or sing odes to the stink, the world of cheese remains mysterious, marvelous, and magnificently malodorous. Let it remind you that the boundary between repulsion and attraction is thinner than a cheese rind, and that life—like a good Limburger—should sometimes be enjoyed with reckless, aromatic abandon.

References

• McGee, Harold. "On Food and Cooking." Scribner, 2004.
• Fox, P.F., & McSweeney, P.L.H. "Cheese: Chemistry, Physics and Microbiology," Academic Press, 2004.
• BBC Food: Why do some cheeses smell so bad?

Wait, That�s Not True?

A common yet unfortunate misconception is that stinky cheeses are spoiled or unsafe to eat—after all, anything that can clear a room in five seconds must have gone off, right? Not so! The robust smells are in fact a sign of careful, expert craftsmanship and—here’s the kicker—harmless bacterial action. Brevibacterium linens (yes, the same bug found on your feet) is not a pathogen and poses no threat to healthy people. The creation of a cheesy stink is a deliberate process managed through washing the rind, controlling humidity, and coddling microbial colonies like VIP spa guests. While mold-ridden leftovers hiding behind your fridge’s crisper drawer probably ought to be tossed, genuine stinky cheese is safe, nutritious, and celebrated as a mark of cheese artistry, not neglect. The intensity of the aroma results from specific, flavorful compounds, not spoilage toxins, and the smell is unrelated to freshness or safety in properly crafted cheese.