For Labor Day, I had a little slumber party at my sister’s house, somewhat reminiscent of childhood (minus the bedtime objections). In anticipation of our sleepover, I packed a bag for Chandler (of course, I included his favorite toy), some clothes, and Just Dance 2. Oh yeah, we were gonna get down. At least, that was the plan. This idea was short-lived, however, as we went to bed not long after dinner like the two old farts we are. Perhaps it was all the cheese we ate for dinner. You read that right, we ate cheese. FOR DINNER. Nicole, having cheese experience with this particular shop, went to Murrays to assemble our feast, which included Champlain Valley, Grayson Meadow Creek, and Comte Saint An. Don’t ask what these names mean. My brain,
unfortunately fortunately, took a back seat to my tastebuds. It’s a different experience, eating without thinking. Who’s with me?
The cheeses were thoughtfully laid out on each plate and I did everything in my power to keep from inhaling these stinky treats while Nicole read each tasty description. The first cheese, a triple creme, was paired with apricot preserves. It was delicious and smooth and probably what heaven tastes like, if we’re lucky. Triple cremes are at the top of the list. They are the cheese to beat. Their delicate sweet notes pull the cheese-eating guilt out of me more than any other food (except maybe pork belly). I’m drooling all over my keyboard just typing this… This was my favorite cheese.
Moving on. The second cheese was pretty stinky. While I’m a fan of smelling stinky cheese (the best part of my day is when I’m lucky enough to walk past the cheese shop while the door is closing, hitting me in the face with pure cheesy stink), this is where I have to draw a line between “mmm…buttery goodness” and “am I licking the underbelly of a sheep?” However, hats off to Nicole. This cheese was the perfect balance. A little nutty, not too salty, texture similar to brie. This was my favorite cheese.
The third cheese was a little firmer and kind of reminded me of Pecorino. You know the type: salty, tangy, little bursts of crystalline texture. A man’s man of cheese, no…a cheese’s cheese. I couldn’t eat this fast enough! This was my favorite cheese.
If only I had more room in my stomach for
seconds thirds. Gravity was ruthlessly pulling at my eyelids in a violent game of tug-of-war and, almost immediately after eating, I began to drift off to sleep to the sounds of Netflix while little cheeses danced in my head.