Cheese is cheese and I love it. Cheese is so heinously under-appreciated and I feel it necessary to give cheese some support, so I decided to give form to the feelings I have for cheese. This little site is really just an infinite love note to cheese of all kinds and colors and smells, because (almost) anything that is cheese is worth a generous try in my book. When I was in the 3rd grade, my family moved to a new house about half a mile away from the old pink house. My cousins came to help us do the moving and we all rode around like crazies in the back of a semi that we had rented to move the furniture. After the house had been gutted all that was left was a nappy old carpet and some painting canvas, so we decided to take our last supper sitting on those leftovers in the kitchen. One of the cousins decided to buy a round of smoked Gouda and Breton crackers, and we smorgasborded there in the kitchen. Gouda was in me, caked on me, and all around me; I devoured cheese, and for the first time I can remember, cheese was my being! I was living to eat cheese! It’s like that quote “some people eat to live, others live to eat”, except I was really only alive to put gouda in my mouth. The Breton crackers, luxury snack that they are, were forgotten and assigned the role of simply conveying more and more gouda to me. It was creamy, salty, smoky, even a little bit caramelly; straight-up divine. While I was eating I didn’t realize how transformational that meal was, but now that my brain has caught up with my taste buds, I know. I know! Cheese is god!
Yes this is a vile picture, but focus on the cheese. That’s what matters here. Anyways, this delicious plate was served to me during a dinner tour on the Seine, a place where the cheese plate is just as important as the salad and entree and dessert. We had us some young Chevre, some aged Chevre, and some Camembert. I thoroughly enjoyed myself.
Back to the purpose of this everything, I like cheese. I’ll write about my thoughts on cheese, local creameries and fromageries to visit, and cheese in genny. I’m really not that pretentious about cheese but that’s just because I don’t know enough to pull it off, and also because I’m too happy when I’m eating to really analyze. Connoisseur no, lover yes. But thank the lord there are people like Mr. Palomar who have this to think about cheese:
Behind every cheese there is a pasture of a different green under a different sky: meadows caked with salt that the tides of Normandy deposit every evening;meadows scented with aromas in the windy sunlight of Provence; there are different flocks, with their stablings and their transhumances; there are secret processes handed down over the centuries.
– Mr. Palomar (from Italo Calvino’s Mr. Palomar)
See, cheese is exotic and ethnic! If little cheeses ran around in Normandy and Provence I would keep them as pets and they would get along only with kittens. I would have a Brie, a couple Camemberts, a Mimolette, and of course a big smoky Gouda. One day I hope my home is like the Humane Society for cheese. I’m going to eat my way through the cheeses of the world, and I’ll write about it here. I’m not sure if anyone will be reading this, but feel free to comment if you have some cheese advice or insider tips (are there insider tips about cheese…?), because I really just want to eat good cheese. Hedonists unite.