Well, here we go again folks. As if it weren't enough that I knocked myself out in April participating in 30 Days of Photos, now dear Nicky and Mike over at We Work For Cheese have corralled a bunch of us suckers into a 30 Days of Writing exercise. Yeah, I know. I must have stupid written backwards on my forehead. I don't know how they figured it out. They would have had to look in my mirror to realize it. Anyhoo, the first day's theme is - surprise, surprise - cheese.
And here are the internet imbeciles Nicky and Mike managed to sucker into to this little exercise: Well, first off there's me! Once you've read my post you can visit: Mike and Nicky, Cheryl, If I Were God, Katherine, Laughing Mom, Linda M, Malisa, MikeWJ, Sandra, Leeuna and Still Unfinished.
Okay, who cut the cheese?
Well growing up in my house it was usually my mother. She prepared and served the food and the knife was too big and sharp for us kids. What did you think I meant?
Back in the day, though, our cheese usually consisted of cheddar. Or parmesan to go with our spaghetti. We had spaghetti a lot.
We also had tuna casserole a lot. Kraft Dinner (or Mac and Cheese for you Americans). With tuna. With cheddar. And with peas. My mother's idea. I've not eaten a pea since. Although I do still like cheddar. But I'm not a big Kraft Dinner fan. As I've aged, though, (pun intended) I've come to like many other kinds of cheese. I love the balminess of brie, the souciance of swiss, the perkiness of provolone, the cheekiness of cheddar, the frankness of feta, the heartiness of havarti... well, you get the idea. I pretty much like all kinds of cheese, save the bitterness of blue cheese. We'll just file that stuff with those peas I think.
Yep. Otherwise it's all gouda.
No way, I hear you say.
Whey, I say.
I'm not sure how I developed this love affair with cheese. But there's nothing I love more than sitting around with a couple of good friends, enjoying a glass or two of wine or a beer and an assorted plate of cheeses and pates with some nice crackers and baguettes. I think it's the French influence of the love of my mid-life, Mrs. D. She's introduced me to a whole other world of cultured gourmet living.
It's really quite a change to my approach to fine cuisine in the past. I'm far more refined and elegant than I ever was.
I no longer eat Cheez Whiz, for instance. And Cheezies are so, well, cheesy.
No more licking orange dust off my fingers when I have a little snack.
I mean no longer would I ever say, "Hey, hands off of those. They're Nachos, they're mine."