Mmmmm!

I like cheese. Not the hokey movie, crappy music, polyester leisure suit cheese. No, I'm talking about the curdled, cut, salted, pressed, and aged kind of cheese. The kind that comes wrapped up in plastic in the grocer's dairy case. The kind that keeps for months in the drawer in my refrigerator. The kind that all the health nuts say is the worst thing I could be eating (not french fries?). The kind the veggies won't eat because some cow had milk forcibly pulled from her aching udders. I love cheese and I love cows for giving up their precious milk so a cheese maker can craft a wheel of sheer creamy bliss.

I'm still a little leery of the stinky soft french kind. I like mine firm, crumbly and aged at least a year, preferably longer. I like cheese that ranges in color from creamy white to very pale yellow. I like cheese that is so sharp it makes my jaw ache a little. I like cheese that satisfies that craving for meat. I like cheese that asks, no, demands to be washed down with a glass of ale. I like cheese that pairs well with chocolate. I like chocolate that pairs well with cheese. I like cheese that pairs well with other cheese.

I hate Velveeta.