Like every good Wisconsinite, I love my cheese. And I don’t just believe cheddar is better. I adore everything from feta to bleu, gouda to muenster. The older and stinkier, the better. When I was younger and was asked what my favorite foods were, I recited in a sing-song voice “Pickles and cottage cheese.” Not much has changed.
I was a vegetarian for four years (during high school), but instead of eating more vegetables, I simply doubled the amount of cheese in recipes to make up for the lack of meat. So healthy. The only cheese I actively dislike is goat’s cheese. I’ve tried it every which way under the sun and, believe me, I want to like it. Especially when people rattle off such foodie things as “goat cheese crostini with fig compote” or “prosciutto and goat cheese pizza.” But some things are just not meant to be. I can’t force myself to like country music, and I can’t force myself to like goat’s cheese.
Dave and I have a cheese drawer in our fridge, which generally holds at least three different kinds of cheese. Right now, it contains fresh mozzarella, pesto gouda, monterey jack, sharp cheddar, and parmesan. We usually have some cottage cheese, too.
To say I’ve been on kind of a cheese kick lately is an understatement. I have cheese as part of every lunch and dinner, and one of my go-to snacks is cheese and crackers. I went to town on a box of whole grain Cheez-Its last week, too. They’re really good for you when they’re whole grain, you know.
Yesterday, I started doing a mental tally of how much cheese I had consumed the previous week. Possibly a little more than medically allowed. So I decided to take a day off from cheese.
Breakfast was a PB&J on raisin honey wheat, and lunch was tuna with wheat crackers and applesauce. Dinner is the tricky part. What is this cheese-loving world is there to eat for dinner? There’s only one solution.