Tuesday, April 10, 2007

I like cheese. I do, a lot. I can even be a bit of a cheese snob. I was miserable when I was pregnant because I was a titch lactose intolerant so I couldn't eat as much cheese as I wanted.

The new (to me, anyway) fabulous grocery store in my neighborhood has a wonderful cheese section, where I could just spend an entire afternoon gazing upon aged dairy products. And, like a supergood cheese section, they have samples of different cheeses every day. And, really, what's better than cheese? Free cheese.

The other day they had this cave-aged Gruyere that was so delicious, I was still talking about it the next day. It was buttery and salty and creamy and so wonderful that I wanted to buy a thousand pounds of it and make myself a lounge chair out of it. It was the best cheese I've ever eaten.

As I sampled some fabulous white cheese today, I was thinking that I might have to go there every single day for breakfast... or lunch... or snacks... because there's nothing bad about free cheese samples.

until...

I opened up the little sample thing to take out a piece of Havarti. I was instantly overwhelmed by the smell of feet - but, hey, that's cheese, right? So I popped a cubic inch of it into my mouth and was instantly overwhelmed by the taste of feet... and vomit... and ass or something. It was like someone had eaten a pound of rotten sweat socks, encased in moldy underwear and then vomited it into a holey little cheese form thing. And worse than the taste was the fact that they didn't have a little spit cup nearby into which I could hock it - so I was forced to actually ingest it. Then finish my shopping trip with that taste in my mouth.

oh, free cheese, you are a cruel mistress...



apropos of something, I got a credit card offer in the mail today addressed to "The Cheese Connection". How did they know?