I’m finally getting to see Super Size Me tonight.
One particular allegation had me going “whoa”: a nutritionist was listing the addictive ingredients in a McDonalds meal, most of them familiar. Caffeine, sugar, salts… but cheese? Yes, he said, it contains casomorphin, an opiate. In that case…
… Hi, my name is Brian, and I’m a Cheesaholic. Actually, I prefer the term caseophile. Cheese is truly the Food of the Gods, and I’m not talking about your common Cheddar, oh no. I don’t have one absolute favourite, I try and find a cheese for every occasion. It may be a slice of Dubliner on a home-made burger, grated Parmigiano on Niçoise salad, goat’s cheese on a Four Star “Posh Pizza” from the restaurant down the road, Gruyère and Salami on Rye, or Feta with Olives from the Deli.
Then there are the solo cheeses; it’s been a few years since I graduated from Danish Blue to St. Agur and Stilton, with the world of Gorgonzola, Roquefort and Bleu D’Auvergne still to be tapped, for cost reasons. It’s not all Blue, of course; I no longer live near the shop where I found the Mature Ardrahan that had the neighbours giving me strange looks, but there’s always a place on my plate for some mild Caerphilly, Wensleydale or Camembert de Normandie. A really good Cheddar is not to be sniffed at, only in blocks, never pre-sliced nor grated.
Am I addicted to Dairy? Do I really have to give up cheese? If I did, what would be the point of food at all?