On my subway ride into work this morning I overheard a pre-teen kid ask his dad who cut the cheese.
Whenever I hear the word “cheese,” or whenever I see it referenced in print, I tune in.
On hearing this question, and then hearing it again a couple more times, it reminded me of what my daughter may have answered years ago when classmates would ask her what her dad did for a living: “He cuts the cheese.”
Snickers all around.
Besides the association with its misinformed association with daunting aroma and poor food choices, cheese suffers from its association with poverty, as though it is no more than a poor man’s steak.
I recall another comment recently: “Or we could just have cheese.”
Precisely: why not?
The “C” word is heard more frequently than ever. I suppose “bad” publicity is better than none at all. The excitement is building; we are poised to see a capacity crowd taking the second American Cheese Society’s Certified Cheese Professional™ exam in Madison this summer.
In my current duties I may not cut the cheese at the break-neck pace the way I use to at Picholine years ago, yet I eat at least as much as I ever did, if not more.
Max McCalmanPosted by Artisanal Cheese