I believe, unflinchingly, that cheese makes any food experience better. Midwesterners often feel the same way about ranch dressing. If you're from the Midwest and you refuse to admit having at least once dipped your pizza crust in ranch or uttered the phrase "Everything tastes better with ranch," then you're a shameless liar. Still others feel the same way about bacon. Though I occassionally flirt with a bacon obsession, "nature's meat candy" is only my mistress. Cheese is my true love. There are few things that I find more glorious than cheese. If cheese is involved, I'll cross all bounds of decorum to partake to the fullest extent. At italian restaurants, when the waiter comes around with the fresh grated parmesan and says "tell me when," several awkward moments will pass before I let the poor server stop furiously grating away at the block. Generally I say "when" out of guilt, not because I've actually received enough on my plate.
I'm not a cheese elitist. A cheese fanatic? Definitely. In college I used to "spice up" the bland, dry chicken breasts served for dinner with two handfuls of bulk-bought, shredded salad bar cheese. I would melt a heaping mound of it on top of my sad piece of meat in the microwave. One handful of the white mozzerella-like stuff and one handful of the shockingly orange cheddar-like stuff. The color mosaic on my plate made me happy. The taste: vastly improved. I lived in a 50-person communal style dorm where everyone regularly noticed my habit and either laughed in mock amusement or gasped in horror. Every time. Apparently doing the same thing for almost every meal did not make it less weird. Point being, the cheese I doused on everthing could hardly even be called cheese. But it was still delicious to me. I used to say I hated Velveeta-type "cheese products," just to give the impression that I had a cheese palate. Soon even those boundaries came down. On November 1, 2001, I squirted a generous spiral pattern of canned Easy Cheese onto a Ritz cracker at the urging of my college roommate. With much hesitation, I put the whole cracker in my mouth and chewed. I heartily approved. Several more cans of Easy Cheese would be bought that week. A few weeks later, I had my first ever serving of instant mac & cheese. I sat in the dining hall and let the aching feeling of a childhood deprived wash over me. There was joy in the exploration....the new culinary combinations.
I started getting serious and exploring with more imported and artisanal cheeses. Then came the holidays. Every birthday and Christmas, loved ones would feed my obsession with various cheese accoutrements and books on cheese. I stumbled upon a vast new world of delicious cheeses and the love grew exponentially. I... just... love cheese. I've at least appreciated every variety I've tried. (Except American cheese. I'm sorry, but that demon cheese can stay out of my face).
But let's be honest; most of us developed our love for cheese from the humble beginnings. Mac and cheese, lasagna, pizza, even Easy Cheese. I'd bet that many cheese lovers started the love affair in the same manner I did--preferring our cheese melted and covering other food items. And that's okay. Cheese aficionados and newbies alike can recognize that the comforting taste of ball park nachos is often as delightful as a perfect gruyere. The point is to find joy in venturing outside of your comfort zone as much or as little as you want. Go ahead try that manchego! Raw milk morbier? Get crazy! But only if you want to. Good cheese (the classy stuff) doesn't have to be intimidating. Cheese stores should be inviting places where even the timid cheese lovers feel welcome.
In a few days, I will trade in my hastily chosen professional life for the life of a cheese apprentice. I've always wanted to open a cheese shop and write. It took some detours, but I grew the backbone to risk following both of my passions. To do this right, I need to learn a lot about cheese: varieties, production, sensory profiles, quality, distribution. From May to November, I'll be meeting as many people in the industry as possible and working with artisanal cheesemakers in Connecticut and southern Washington state. So begins my hopeful "cheese career." If a Cheesy Street store comes to fruition in a few years, it will be a place designed to make new and intimidating cheeses seem approachable and fun. I want you to be able to walk into my store, explore it, take a gander at the stinky washed rind cheese that smells like feet, and ask questions.
Welcome to Cheesy Street: a place where all ages, levels and varieties of cheese-love have a home!
I'm not a cheese elitist. A cheese fanatic? Definitely. In college I used to "spice up" the bland, dry chicken breasts served for dinner with two handfuls of bulk-bought, shredded salad bar cheese. I would melt a heaping mound of it on top of my sad piece of meat in the microwave. One handful of the white mozzerella-like stuff and one handful of the shockingly orange cheddar-like stuff. The color mosaic on my plate made me happy. The taste: vastly improved. I lived in a 50-person communal style dorm where everyone regularly noticed my habit and either laughed in mock amusement or gasped in horror. Every time. Apparently doing the same thing for almost every meal did not make it less weird. Point being, the cheese I doused on everthing could hardly even be called cheese. But it was still delicious to me. I used to say I hated Velveeta-type "cheese products," just to give the impression that I had a cheese palate. Soon even those boundaries came down. On November 1, 2001, I squirted a generous spiral pattern of canned Easy Cheese onto a Ritz cracker at the urging of my college roommate. With much hesitation, I put the whole cracker in my mouth and chewed. I heartily approved. Several more cans of Easy Cheese would be bought that week. A few weeks later, I had my first ever serving of instant mac & cheese. I sat in the dining hall and let the aching feeling of a childhood deprived wash over me. There was joy in the exploration....the new culinary combinations.
I started getting serious and exploring with more imported and artisanal cheeses. Then came the holidays. Every birthday and Christmas, loved ones would feed my obsession with various cheese accoutrements and books on cheese. I stumbled upon a vast new world of delicious cheeses and the love grew exponentially. I... just... love cheese. I've at least appreciated every variety I've tried. (Except American cheese. I'm sorry, but that demon cheese can stay out of my face).
But let's be honest; most of us developed our love for cheese from the humble beginnings. Mac and cheese, lasagna, pizza, even Easy Cheese. I'd bet that many cheese lovers started the love affair in the same manner I did--preferring our cheese melted and covering other food items. And that's okay. Cheese aficionados and newbies alike can recognize that the comforting taste of ball park nachos is often as delightful as a perfect gruyere. The point is to find joy in venturing outside of your comfort zone as much or as little as you want. Go ahead try that manchego! Raw milk morbier? Get crazy! But only if you want to. Good cheese (the classy stuff) doesn't have to be intimidating. Cheese stores should be inviting places where even the timid cheese lovers feel welcome.
In a few days, I will trade in my hastily chosen professional life for the life of a cheese apprentice. I've always wanted to open a cheese shop and write. It took some detours, but I grew the backbone to risk following both of my passions. To do this right, I need to learn a lot about cheese: varieties, production, sensory profiles, quality, distribution. From May to November, I'll be meeting as many people in the industry as possible and working with artisanal cheesemakers in Connecticut and southern Washington state. So begins my hopeful "cheese career." If a Cheesy Street store comes to fruition in a few years, it will be a place designed to make new and intimidating cheeses seem approachable and fun. I want you to be able to walk into my store, explore it, take a gander at the stinky washed rind cheese that smells like feet, and ask questions.
Welcome to Cheesy Street: a place where all ages, levels and varieties of cheese-love have a home!
This is the most awesome-ist cheese blog EVER!
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